Chapter 24
Reeve’s Portal to the Celestian Palace closed in a swirl of Magic behind her.
She heaved a loud sigh, finally out from beneath Shadow’s blanket of Magic.
As they stepped across the pale crystal floor, the amethyst banners along the walls shifted, turning a deep emerald green.
The Aterna coat of arms vanished, replaced by the Dread Mark. Maeve stilled.
A skull and two serpents, one ferociously baring its fangs, shone in gold against the deep green fabric. Reeve stepped beside her, his gaze also fixed on the changed insignias.
Maeve pulled her arms to her back, locating the lacing of the white gown.
She began to pull, loosening the bodice, until it slipped free from her back.
She pulled her arms from the shimmering sleeves and threw it to the floor, leaving her in just a fitted undergarment.
Reeve didn’t look over at her. His eyes remained on the changed banners.
His face was unreadable. Her fingers moved to the skirt next, letting it fall to the ground like a large deflated balloon.
He shrugged off his overcoat and extended it to her. She stepped out of the skirt and snatched his coat from him, sliding it over her body. It was laughably large, but it was better than that tainted pile on the floor and better than remaining exposed.
“Take me to him,” said Maeve softly.
Reeve nodded, and she followed him silently across the Celestian Palace. Not a single word was spoken as they walked. Maeve’s white boots were the only sound as Reeve guided her through the massive palace.
With every step, Maeve felt them growing closer.
“I can feel it,” she said, breaking their silence at last.
“Of course you can,” replied Reeve as two crystal doors opened at their approach. “It’s your Magic.”
Maeve’s pace quickened as her eyes saw it.
The room opened up into a vast cathedral-like space.
Pale-blue crystals, in varying shades and intensities, shot up like deadly swords from an altar.
The solid stones, jagged and massive, thrummed with her power.
Beneath Maeve’s crystalized Magic lay Maxius, perfectly sleeping with the Dread Locket around his neck.
She found it difficult to be relieved. This would just be another part of his life taken from him. And for how long this time?
Spinel lay curled asleep at the foot of the altar.
Maeve stepped towards Maxius, placing her hand on one of the stones and looking down at her son. She wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of his skin. To run her fingers through his soft hair. To see his face light up as Spinel massaged his paws against him.
“Will they remain, you think, after I am dead?”
“Of course they would,” Reeve replied. “Your body is merely a vessel for this power.”
“What if I die before it’s safe for him to be released?”
Reeve hesitated. “At some point, the Magic in him will awaken. Besides, you plan on dying anytime soon?”
She ignored the question. The answer was obvious. “My sister and her children are on Earth? Agatha?”
“Yes,” answered Reeve. “Alphard as well.”
Her throat tightened at the thought of Zimsy, her blood coating the floors of the Throne Room at Castle Morana. She hadn’t been able to get her to safety.
Nor Abraxas. How could she have just left him there? She should have forced him, found a way.
“Mal can be saved,” she said, her eyes still on Maxius.
Maeve expected a snappy reply, something about how delusional she was. It never came.
“And how do you think that’s going to happen?” was all Reeve replied.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, running her fingers over the crystal casing. “I don’t know the path. But I know the prophecy. He will vanquish her. That means. . . he’ll be saved. Right?”
Reeve crossed to the other side of Maxius.
“This must have been brutal,” he commented, his eyes on the crystals, ignoring her question completely.
“It was,” she answered.
“Let me heal your face,” he said.
She looked over at him, tearing her eyes away from Maxius at last. The crystals cast pale-blue light across his face. His eyes lingered on the bruise across her cheek.
“No,” she answered softly. The thought of his hands on her was out of the question.
Her eyes widened. He commanded. She disobeyed.
No pain sliced through her. No stinging of Magic whipped down her back.
“I broke that Curse the moment it shifted into my possession,” he answered her unasked question. “Disgusting Magic.”
Reeve looked down at Maxius. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. One that looked like regret and acceptance all bundled together.
“He’s so big now,” breathed Reeve. “The last time he was here, he was so small.”
Maeve remembered it all now. How it had been Reeve she’d hid Maxius with the first time. She hadn’t meant to erase her own mind of Maxius then. That was the first time she cast her spell, and judging by how quickly it broke and Maxius was back at Castle Morana, she had cast it poorly.
“I remembered the most beautiful thing this morning,” she said, looking down at Maxius as she twisted her Sinclair family ring.
“My father knew I was pregnant before he died. He was the second to know. Mal and I knew almost immediately. But getting to see my father’s face for the first time again when we told him. . .was remarkable.”
They sat in the moment together, enduring the silence, until Reeve spoke.
“Do you think you’ve broken all the times you used the spell?”
Maeve thought for a moment. “How would I ever know?” she answered truthfully. “I think I have, but it’s like a bunch of timelines crossing and lapping over. It’s all real, even the parts I made up in my head. It’s not like I forgot them. Just. . .now there’s even more life added back in.”
Another long silence.
“Why did you do it?” asked Maeve. “Why the fuck did you give them that army? Earth stands at risk now.”
“We are all at risk now. I did what I think will lessen casualties until a greater plan can unfold. It would have only been a matter of time before The Dreaded Dead crossed the Black Deep and slaughtered my people.”
“A greater plan,” repeated Maeve. “You have one of those?” She looked back over at him.
He held his tongue.
Maeve laughed darkly. “Of course.”
“I’m sorry, Maeve,” said Reeve, an edge in his voice. “This is all happening rather quickly, and you are somewhat of a loose cannon.”
She shook her head, a smile at her lips that was far from happy.
“I can tell you more when the time is right,” he said.
“For you. When the time is right for you.”
He fell silent.
“I’m grateful for your protection of Maxius,” she said. “But you can go now.”
She felt his eyes burn into the side of her face for a moment longer before disappearing from her periphery.
“Mely is looking for Zimsy. I do not know if she’s alive,” he said, and then his footsteps retreated, plunging her into complete silence save for the soft, vibrating thrum of her crystalized Magic.
She slid down the side of the altar, back pressing against it, and pulled her legs in.
She buried her face down, forehead resting against her knees.
Smooth fur rubbed against her hand as Spinel forced his way into what little space was accessible in her lap.
His damp nose rubbed against hers as small purrs began to vibrate through him.
Each day in Aterna brought less sunlight. Sunlight Maeve couldn’t even find joy in. Another warmth stolen. The frozen tundra crept across the Black Deep like vines. Soon, snow would begin falling in Aterna, coating the land just like it had in the Dread Lands.
It had taken a week of sleeping on the floor with Spinel next to Maxius for Maeve to relent and move to a chamber.
The entire palace sat high on the north mountain cliffs overlooking Crystalmore.
With a balcony spanning down the side of the palace, she had a firsthand view of the brewing dark clouds across the Black Deep.
It was visible even from the plush bed, as the west walls of her chambers were made of high arching windows.
Tempting as it was to close the drapes and forget about the evil lurking in the mountains across the sea, she left them open. No servant visited her. Nor did Reeve. Food appeared and vanished for each meal on a gold tray by the desk in her chambers.
Adjusting to a body without Magic was tedious. Sleep was endless and all-consuming. She lost track of time, and no matter how long she slumbered, it was never enough. Food tasted different; nothing was the same on her tongue. Not even bread. Even if it tasted good, her appetite was absent.
She only ate when the lining in her stomach became so desperate that she stuffed a cold roll or pastry in her mouth, and then retreated into the comfort of her four-poster bed.
Her chambers were close enough to Maxius that she could feel the steady beat of his safety.
Spinel slept with her sometimes, but most nights, he remained curled at the foot of Maxius’ altar, waiting for Maeve to join him each morning.
She had given up on trying to wash her skin clean in the ensuite bathroom.
She would be tainted and dirty forever. The water was never scorching enough to burn away the feeling of his Magic hurting her.
Each pass with soap and water across her arm was a relived memory of the bone snapping. And his fury.
She’d never imagined his hands inflicting such pain.
She tried, manically, to scrub her body free of the dark, inky veins that ran along her body. It was illogical. But she scrubbed until her skin tingled with a red coat. Where once in those veins there had been a life, a second heartbeat almost, there was only a void of connection.
A tap on the door. Maeve ignored it. A louder tap with more persistence had her pulling the covers back and stalking towards the door. She slowly pulled open one of the smooth white doors and peered outside.
A girl bowed at the neck and didn’t meet Maeve’s gaze.
“The High Lord of Aterna requests your presence at breakfast.”
Maeve surveyed her, wondering if the downward look at the crystal floors was a sign of respect or fear.
Something deep inside her laughed emptily.
“Requests?” asked Maeve.
The girl nodded. “The High Lord says if you don’t feel up to it, he will try again next week—”
That was enough for Maeve to close the door quickly with a snap. She turned on her heel, the cold floors guiding her back to the bed, and sleep claimed her swiftly.
As promised, a week later, another knock came at her door.
“The High Lord requests your presence at lunch,” said the girl.
She was an Immortal. Maeve looked up at her, where she towered over Maeve, as all Immortals did.
“Tell him to try again next week,” was all she said.
The Immortal raised her brows, but Maeve closed the door without another word.
Sunlight, pure, golden sunlight poured into the room. Maeve groaned and rolled over, attempting to hide under a pillow.
The covers were swiftly drawn back, and the pillow vanished. Maeve sat up and squinted as an older Magical with grey spiraling hair was finishing snapping back the curtains with the palm of her hand. With Dread Magic.
Maeve rubbed her face and sat up at once. Confusion at the audacity of this woman.
“Afternoon, dear,” said the Witch without turning to Maeve.
The woman snapped her fingers, and Maeve’s dressing gown appeared next to her on the bed, and Maeve snatched it up, throwing it around her.
“And you are?” said Maeve with a yawn as she stood from the bed.
“Name’s Gelsey,” said the Witch. “Head of the High Lord’s household.”
Gelsey snapped her fingers, and a duster appeared. She began cleaning each surface of the room.
The bedding behind Maeve snapped new. Clean, fresh sheets appeared from nowhere, smooth and fluffed.
“You don’t have to do that,” said Maeve uncomfortably.
“I do actually,” said Gelsey with a smile, the wrinkles in her face spreading. “It’s my job and it pays quite well.” She laughed.
Maeve stood awkwardly, avoiding looking out those giant windows.
“Besides,” said Gelsey. “You need to get dressed for dinner with the High Lord.”
“I won’t be going to any dinner,” said Maeve.
“Of course you will,” said Gelsey happily. “I laid out fresh clothes for you.”
Gelsey jerked her head towards the closet Maeve had not even entered since her arrival. A fresh set of clothes in the morning and pajamas in the evening had appeared every day on the bed; now she understood that was Gelsey’s doing.
“You know, technically, you should all be calling him a King or something. That title doesn’t make any sense.”
“The High Lord refused the title of King after his father before him,” she stated. “Oh—A few of the members of the house staff would like to place flowers around Maxius. If that would be alright with you?”
Maeve rubbed her eyes, speechless. With a small shake of her head, not understanding, she said. “Why?”
Gelsey twirled her fingers across the tray of barely touched food, and it vanished at once. Maeve’s stomach tightened with something like envy. Gelsey turned towards her.
Something shifted across the old woman’s face. She smiled with a gentle understanding. “Because we adore him.”
Maeve’s mouth opened and then closed as she stammered a response.
“You didn’t think the High Lord kept him all to himself, did you?” she asked with a smile. Without waiting for a reply, she said, “So no to the dinner then?”
Maeve shook her head. Gelsey didn’t argue and merely said she’d send something up. As the old Magical made for the door, Maeve called after her.
“You’re of Dread Magic. And yet, you reside here in Aterna.”
Gelsey nodded. “One of the many Magical families that made it into Aterna before the Shadow War.”
Maeve couldn’t understand.
“You’ve never been to the capital city, Crystalmore, have you?” asked Gelsey.
Maeve shook her head. Even when Mal had attacked the city, shortly before Reeve erased Aterna from their minds, she wasn’t there.
“Oh!” She laughed sweetly. “You’ll be in for a surprise then.”
Just before Gelsey closed the door on her way out, Maeve stopped her once more.
“Flowers would be fine,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”