Chapter 17
Maeve lingered in the doorway of Mal’s study. She adjusted the sleeve of her gown in the silence, wondering why he’d called her there prior to that evening’s events.
Alphard was to be publicly honored for his efforts in the war and for his allegiance to the crown.
Maeve arrived at Castle Morana early, as she had been instructed to.
Mal played with the Dread Ring on his finger as he reclined at his desk, eyes on her. Hazel swam in them. A pathetically small comfort for her.
“Where is your Queen?” asked Maeve, tucking her hands behind her back and testing the waters.
Mal’s eyes traced down over her at the gesture. A predatory smile kicked at the corner of his lips. He stepped towards her once more. “Is that jealousy in your tone, Mrs. Mavros?”
“Of course not,” said Maeve smoothly.
“I know you’re a better liar than that.”
A silent moment passed between them, Mal’s green eyes holding her hostage.
“Apologies, my Prince,” she said softly. “I suppose I should have bowed formally and thanked you for honoring my husband this evening.”
A swift breath rose across his chest, and he stood. Maeve’s chin lifted slightly higher.
“You’re going to tell him before his promotion,” said Mal lowly, now standing. “About Maxius.”
“What?” she asked, her teeth tightly together.
“And it’s King now,” he added, closing the gap between them gracefully. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Maeve swallowed.
“Because,” he continued. “I’ll be telling Maxius tonight myself.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the words came out as nothing more than a quick, throaty sound. Magic held her tongue as his head cocked to the side. The realization that he’d been loose with her, he’d given her space to think she stood a chance against him, washed over her.
It took hardly anything from him to stop the very air in her lungs. She froze beneath his power. Her Magic remained still and unmoving.
His brows raised. “You’re not even going to fight back?” He smiled lazily. “Tonight will go smoothly, then.”
He passed her, releasing his invisible hold on her throat, and commanded her as he walked away. “Go and break his heart.”
His unhurried footsteps were long gone before she moved.
Alphard wasn’t there to be honored. Maxius wasn’t there to watch.
They were all there to be exposed for the lie.
Her lies.
“I need to speak with you,” she said, pulling Alphard away from a Bellator in the main floor’s corridor without an apology or even a slight courtesy.
“You’re shaking,” he noted as he followed her out of the hall without question.
“Where are Zimsy and Maxius?” she asked, rounding a few guests.
“Should be here any minute,” he replied, looking over her.
Once they were a decent distance from guests and court and council members, Maeve turned on him in the corner. She kept her face calm, as there were still nearby eyes.
“You need to take Maxius and go.”
Sensing the panic washing over her, he didn’t hesitate.
His hands captured her face. “Maeve,” he said, no trace of frustration in his voice. His voice was reminiscent of when she had her episodes. “Nothing is wrong. Maxius has been invited here as a great honor on the day I am to receive a promotion.”
“No,” she hissed. “That is not why we are here. You do not understand.”
Alphard’s eyes locked on something behind her. His shoulder fell slightly, and Maeve was certain it was his beloved red head, Victoria, that caught his eye.
“Listen to me,” she snapped, electric Magic zapping at her knuckles.
Alphard’s eyes looked down at her side as his brows pulled together.
“Something is wrong—”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the hall. They turned one corner, and he looked down at her.
“Is this about Victoria?” he asked hotly.
“What?” she replied, her face scrunching in confusion.
“No. This is about Maxius and you and me and. . .everything.” Words poured from her, fearful her chance to speak would be cut short.
He had to hear it from her. Not from Mal.
“I can see so much now. Every second, I see more and more like. . . like this spell is ripping apart against my will.”
“Alright,” he said hesitantly. “What do you see?”
Tell him Maxius isn’t his.
“I’ve altered things in our minds,” she replied. “Everyone’s minds.”
Alphard nearly laughed, but just as quickly as his expression shifted to one of disbelief, he turned serious.
“What?” she asked.
Alphard shook his head. “No. No,” he reasoned with himself. “You couldn’t do that. There’s no way. That’s just, just, unheard of.”
It was clear something unsaid ran through his mind, and he wrestled with the thought.
Maeve urged him further. “I have to confess something because I’m concerned what hearing it from someone else will do. I do not think we are here as honored guests. I think Mal knows it was me who did this.”
She had to tell him; she had to before Mal did. This Mal, the one entranced by his white queen, would not be merciful or kind in his deliverance. She’d felt the possessive way Mal’s Magic reached for and desired Maxius’ for weeks now.
Fear sank into Alphard’s expression. Maeve pushed forward, even though the words that needed to be voiced confirmed she had deceived Alphard.
“Maxius is his.”
Alphard held his hand up, his eyes moving rapidly. He sighed, closing his eyes. “I shouldn’t have even let you get this far into this delusion. I keep telling Astrea you aren’t okay and you need the potions back—”
Maeve didn’t think twice. She didn’t hesitate. She dove into his mind, breaking through his Pureblood mental shields with far too much ease, and showed him just how real her words were. His eyes flooded white.
She showed him the memories she’d collected so far of Maxius’ birth, of Mal as his father. Memories she hadn’t let herself enjoy. Not yet. Maybe not ever. His mind remained pliant under her grip.
And then she showed him the one thing she’d come to see clearly that could make him snap. She showed him the night she appeared on his doorstep, bruised and frightened, just before he was meant to marry Victoria.
She only let the memory play out once, and then she withdrew from his mind. Alphard’s eyes opened and latched onto hers. His chest rose and fell as his expression became vacant.
They didn’t have much time. She couldn’t allow him moments of digestion.
“Alphard,” she said gently.
His mouth hung slightly open as he stared at her. “What have you done?” he asked darkly.
“Listen. I am afraid that all of this spell is about to crumble, and neither you nor I will be immune from Mal’s reaction.”
“He knows,” said Alphard. It wasn’t a question. “He’s known Maxius was. . .is his.”
“Yes,” she replied.
His face hardened. “How long have you known?”
Maeve hesitated, stumbling over the truth of just how long she’d been certain Mal was Maxius’ father. “I wasn’t sure,” she began.
Alphard’s face twisted. He tilted his head back, biting hard into his bottom lip. “I have always had these thoughts about Victoria, things that felt so real. . .Fuck, Maeve.” He looked back down at her, denial and reality colliding. “Fuck.”
“I can fix this,” she offered, aching to find Zimsy and Maxius and get them away before the spell completely shattered.
Alphard laughed once. Then twice. Then he was hysterical. Maeve stepped away from him.
“Fix this?” His laughter bounced wildly off the marbled walls of the corridor. “It is because of you we are here! It is because you are insatiable. You have never been and can never be satisfied.”
“That’s not why I did this! That’s ridiculously unfair—” she argued back.
“Fair?” shouted Alphard. “Did you know that I couldn’t deny you?”
“What?”
“Did you know,” he repeated, bending towards her, “when you came looking for a way out, that Magic would force me to say yes?” He held up his palm, where a faint scar was visible. “Did you know that because you were in peril, and because I promised to protect you, I couldn’t say no?”
“No,” she replied hastily. “Roswyn bears the same scar—”
“Indeed, he does, because somehow, despite the fact that you never hesitate to choose yourself, all those around you aren’t so selfish. And we continually choose to protect you.”
“You did that for Antony,” she fired back.
“Yes! Because I loved him and I love YOU!” He stepped back from her, shaking his head. “She was mine. She was a breath away from being mine.”
“I know,” said Maeve. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of another way—”
Alphard turned on her, nothing but fury in his eyes. “You can alter the entire fucking world’s memory and couldn’t come up with any other explanation for Maxius? The possibilities were endless, Maeve.”
“I wanted him to have a good father in his life,” she said defensively, her voice breaking as tears swelled at the corners of her eyes.
“Oh,” said Alphard, a laugh of disbelief burning through his throat. “Don’t start crying now.”
“From the looks of that memory, it appears I saved all our necks,” she fired at him.
“And now you have put us both on the chopping block,” he snarled.
“I’ll fix it!”
“By doing what, Maeve? Have you thought this through at all?”
“I’m not going to stand here and do this with you,” she snapped. “Maxius needs us now.”
Alphard’s eyes were blown wide. “What he needs is the truth. A truth which he likely already feels. Like calls to like, after all.”
“What are you suggesting then? What great plan do you have?”
“That you stop digging and confess what happened. Allow Maxius and our King their truthful relationship. He’s the fucking heir, Maeve!”
“And abandon the notion that the only reason this happened was to protect him? What a dumb thing to suggest, Alphard.” She shook her head.
“Knowing you, it was probably only about your protection,” shot Alphard.
“You ass—”
“Am I interrupting?”
Both their heads snapped sideways at the new voice. Abraxas stood with his hands in his pockets, looking rather annoyed. It was uncommon to see a scowl on his playful face.