Chapter 23
The earth beneath Castle Morana trembled at Reeve’s presence.
Maeve watched from a balcony, high in Castle Morana, as Shadow’s newest addition to her army emptied into The Dread Lands, pouring from massive Portals in perfect formation.
“You need to get dressed,” said Abraxas, his voice clipped.
“Why does he need them?” she asked, her eyes still on the thousands of Warriors below.
“To take Earth,” answered Abraxas.
Snow brushed her exposed shoulders as it fell from the sky, settling across the balcony in sheets of ice. She returned to Abraxas’ suite, twisting her wrist at her side to gently pull the doors closed behind her.
The doors to the balcony remained open. Maeve stilled. She didn’t let the pang in her chest linger as she turned and closed them by hand.
“Still no word about Zim?” she asked quietly, crossing towards Abraxas.
Abraxas shook his head once.
A long silence fell between them.
The gown Maeve was meant to wear lay draped over the sofa, pooling to the dark floors like white water.
It was exquisite. And under different circumstances, perhaps she would have been over the moon to wear such a finely crafted gown.
But being traded. . .wearing a wedding dress just for the purpose of cruelty, was far from a dream come true.
“How can I leave you here, Brax?” she uttered, her voice at a loss.
“Because it is our duty,” he replied swiftly, his silver tongue talking for him.
Duty. The word’s meaning had changed so quickly, in just a matter of minutes. But she knew what it was that kept her breathing. That kept her heart beating.
She had failed time and time again, it seemed.
“I meant what I said,” she whispered softly. “I failed him before. I will not fail him again.”
“Good. You are needed in Aterna.”
She couldn’t look at her cousin as words that weren’t his spilled from his lips. How could she tell him that wasn’t what she meant at all? How could she express that she didn’t give a damn about Reeve’s Inheritor or what lands Mal claimed and conquered?
His destiny was written in prophetic Magic.
Her’s wasn’t. But that didn’t matter. She would save him from Shadow.
Maeve ran her hands over her face and looked back at the gown. A mockery of something she’d once envisioned for herself. She’d known she and Mal would change the world. She had felt that so deep in her soul.
This wasn’t ever what she imagined.
She stepped towards Abraxas. As she placed her arms around his waist, his arms moved across her back and shoulders in tandem.
There was no look of satisfaction on Reeve’s face as he entered the filled Throne Room.
Not even a hint of that usually present, playful gleam in his eyes.
No, Maeve had seen this look of pure disgust on him before.
His expression was cold and unyielding, just as it had been that day he refused to kneel, and now she would face the consequence of his resentment.
This was the face of war.
Eryx moved behind Reeve, several paces back, as they strode towards the throne in similar armor.
Maeve stood beside Mal, where he sat on the throne, the Dread Crown sat perfectly in his dark hair, and she in the white gown she’d almost rebelled against wearing.
Eryx stopped, stepping to the side as Reeve ventured a few more paces towards them.
Reeve stood in perfect opposition to Mal.
His glowing skin, broad shoulders, and muscled body screamed that he was a Senshi Warrior, not just the Immortal holding all of Aterna’s Magic.
His long, black hair fell gracefully to his shoulders, half of it tied neatly at the top of his head.
He’d shaved and faded one side, the side bearing his dark, scar-like Magic, and it had two lines completely shaven running through it, following the pattern of his scars.
Reeve’s eyes landed on her at last. The thread of warm Magic connecting them flared. Maeve pressed down on it, determined not to let it grow.
“Don’t you want to run to him?” asked Mal. “Have him sweep you away from your torment here?”
Maeve remained where she stood. She had not been instructed to move.
Mal laughed. It was dark. Nothing playful about it. “I trade you and you learn obedience?”
She looked over at him. His green eyes were already on her.
“Go to him,” he said, impatience in his tone.
Maeve stepped forward, gathering her dress in her fists as she stepped down the dais. Her heels echoed twice across the hall before Mal called out.
“Stop.”
She halted at once.
He Obscured, suddenly behind her. He circled her and brought his lips to her ear. Together, their eyes locked on Reeve.
Mal whispered, with his arm snaked around her, so softly she had to concentrate to hear every word.
“I don’t want to hear a single word of your rebellious resistance.
Is that clear? You find out who his Inheritor is and put a stop to the Inheritance.
All your traitorous thoughts are best kept to yourself.
If you cost me this army, and the allegiance of the man that leads them, then it will cost you every last one in The Dread Lands you care for. ”
Maeve understood then. She was the bargaining chip between Shadow and Reeve.
He was here to bend the knee in exchange for her.
He offered his armies for her. He saved Maxius again and again for her.
Another Inheritor, someone who wasn’t in a fated bond with Maeve, might not care to lay down their sword and let Shadow reign.
They might fight.
The thought made her sick. Reeve couldn’t possibly be so reckless.
Mal dropped his arm and stood at his full height, passing by her and examining Reeve.
He looked back at Maeve. “Crawl to him.”
The spark of rebellion he had just warned her against kicked inside her. She couldn’t contain her cry as a whip of Magic slashed across her, bringing her to her knees. Her eyes burned as they squeezed tightly shut. The white gown pooled at her waist as her palms made harsh contact with the floor.
She pressed her knees into the cold tiles, her hands moving forward at once, crawling as she was commanded. Reeve didn’t spare her a glance. With each of her movements, his eyes remained on Mal.
“Is this necessary?” drawled Reeve.
“If you had just bent the knee the first time I gave you the opportunity,” replied Mal smoothly, “perhaps you could have spared her the embarrassment.”
Magic crackled like electricity down her spine, the residuals of her refusing to follow his command. She whimpered against the weight of it, forcing herself to keep moving forward. Palms then knees.
“You didn’t want to give her to me the first time,” Reeve reminded him.
When she reached Reeve’s feet, her breathing was tight and labored. He dropped into a crouch, his face inches above hers. His fiery eyes scanned hers and then locked on the lingering bruise from her duel with Mal. His brows pulled together in annoyance.
Without asking or offering, he stood and pulled her to her feet, his eyes still locked on hers. He placed her behind him and turned back to Mal.
“I don’t intend to draw this out,” said Mal.
Reeve nodded once.
Magic snapped between them, harsh and sharp, a whip hitting its mark. Maeve gasped as she felt the exchange between them. The Enslavement Curse Mal placed on her shifted into Reeve’s possession. Her stomach turned over, but the chain she’d felt pressing against her mind was gone.
Completely gone.
“It is done. Amaranthine Maeve Sinclair is yours.”
“It is done. The Senshi Warriors, yours to command.”
Mal moved towards the empty throne. Reeve’s eyes found Maeve.
Eryx appeared at Maeve’s side. He did not look at her. It was only his duty to Reeve, who now controlled her, that brought him to her side. She knew the hatred he felt for her.
The firelights in the Throne Room flickered.
Shadow’s oppressive blanket of weight filled the air, pressing down on them.
Maeve pitched forward. The room spun violently, blurring in one perfect loop.
Without her Magic, Maeve could barely stand in her presence.
If this was the evil meant to ascend upon Earth, she could wipe out the entire race of humans with ease.
“You’d come across the Black Deep and not bow to your Queen?”
Shadow appeared on the throne, black, misting Magic barely concealing her naked body. Her long white hair draped across her front. Reeve turned from Maeve, his eyes locking with Shadow’s.
Mal joined her, standing at her side.
“You look different, Shadow,” said Reeve, his head cocking to the side. “Those blue eyes don’t suit you, my Queen.” His voice was almost flirtatious, but his face remained stoic. “Perhaps, you can give them back to their owner as a sign of good faith.”
Shadow’s lips pursed, and her legs spread. Reeve’s eyes never left her face. “Still so brave, I see,” she remarked.
Reeve made a small motion, something like that of a shrug. “I offered to surrender my crown and my armies for Maeve. You accepted that offer. That means all of her.”
Shadow giggled. Maeve would never become accustomed to the sound. She steadied her breath, begging her body not to vomit as rolls of cursed Magic ripped through her.
“I never thought I’d see the great Dragon of Aterna begging for scraps,” she said.
“Your Magic is clever, much more so than when it resided in your father. You Immortals, always so specific in your Magic and how you use language. But it doesn’t matter.
She gave them to me willingly.” Shadow’s voice dipped into something far less patient than when she first appeared.
“That makes them mine. Not hers. And you still have not kneeled.”
Reeve stepped towards her.
Shadow smiled, getting her way at last. “I told you that you’d be bowing before me soon enough.”
Maeve anticipated his quick and clever return.
As suspected, Reeve said, “Three hundred years is quite a blink when you’ve been alive as long as we have.”
And then the bastard returned her smile.
“I have waited far longer than three centuries to rule the seven realms,” said Shadow.
Reeve didn’t reply. He drew his sword, where it was sheathed at his side, and held it out in both his broad, tattooed hands, a symbol of his dedication, and kneeled, fully kneeled before Shadow.
The sight dropped Maeve’s jaw as he fixed his stare on the marbled floor. Red flashed in Maeve’s eyes. So much blood against the deep-green tiles, she wondered how it wasn’t stained crimson.
Beside her, Eryx's face remained perfectly poised, but the words he whispered held a horrible weight.
“Aterna has fallen.”