Chapter 49 #2
Antony and Alphard stared at each other, both knowing that if Abraxas said it, it was likely the truth.
“Where is Larlisel?” asked Antony, his tone lighthearted, not knowing the question was a loaded one.
“He’s at Morana,” answered Abraxas.
“Not for long,” said Maeve swiftly as Abraxas’ face drifted into thoughts she couldn’t bear to imagine.
Her cousin witnessed firsthand the decline of his life, his people, and his loved ones in the Dread Lands. He’d watched Shadow’s darkness take over. He’d watched her defile the one she’d sworn to protect.
The one she’d failed to protect.
“When is that happening?” asked Zimsy.
Eryx stiffened beside her.
Maeve didn’t answer right away, dreading having to tell her best friend just how soon they’d either salvage what was left of their world or watch it fall to ruin.
It sat at the back of Maeve’s mind like an incessant reminder of what she faced. And based on the way it bore down on her shoulders, she knew facing Shadow was a breath away. Still, selfishly, she wanted to linger in that moment.
In the moment when her brother lived and told stories of their life before.
She wanted to listen to Arianna speak of her children’s father without crying, telling Antony how Arman died for Maeve, not with resentment in her voice, but with pride in her eyes.
She wanted to cherish the way Eryx looked at Zimsy, certain no one had ever vowed to protect her in a way that triumphed over Maeve’s promise except him.
She wanted to bathe in Alphard and Victoria’s forgiveness.
Abraxas, who watched Lyrux closely if he even disappeared behind a chair for too long, was just as tense as she was. She could feel it. The rest of them didn’t carry the weight of consequence like Maeve and her cousin did.
“At dawn,” said Maeve, answering at last.
Zimsy nodded. “I know that look on you well, Maeve. You don’t need to worry about any of us. You need to ensure that Mal and Maxius are safe. Nothing else.”
To Maeve’s surprise, Eryx didn’t recoil at her words.
“I would like to propose a toast,” said Arianna, raising her glass of bubbling gold liquid towards Maeve.
Her throat caught tightly as her jaw tightened.
Zimsy’s glass flew up without hesitation, a prideful look across her gorgeously delicate features.
One by one, her friends, her family, raised their glasses towards her—Even Eryx.
“To my sister who, despite the horrors she has endured, remains fighting. My sister, who chose her blood, the blood of our father Ambrose Sinclair, the blood of our children, over her own desires. I am proud to be your sister, I am proud to fight alongside my family.”
“Usque ad mortem, Sinclair,” said Antony, his glass high, the Sinclair family ring once around his neck in his wolf form, glistened against the crystal, on his finger. The male twin to Maeve’s and Arianna’s, except his was set in a silver band.
Arianna’s head lifted, her own matching gold ring dancing in the luminous candlelight just the same. “Usque ad mortem, Sinclair.”
Maeve grabbed a crystal flute of water and raised it high, her eyes dancing over her own ring, the last of the set. The words engraved on the golden band were those they spoke, “Usque ad mortem, Sinclair.”
She smiled at the impossible, that the three of them were together again, despite how much had changed, and despite their loss—
Maeve gasped, her grip on her glass nearly loosening completely as she looked from Antony’s ring to Arianna’s and at last back to her own.
Three were made and given away. Bound in gold and silver chains, the Magic lay.
Emerie’s last prophecy echoed across her mind clearly as she stared at the three stones set in gold and silver bands. The lightning she produced, which Arianna, too, produced, unheard-of and ancient power, was no longer a mystery.
Reeve shifted in his seat, leaning forward to take in her expression.
“Three were made and given away. Bound in gold and silver chains, the Magic lay,” recited Maeve.
Reeve’s throat bobbed. “What?”
Her eyes moved back to the ring on her brother’s hand. And then on her sister’s.
Abraxas slammed his drink down on the table. “Holy hell,” he said as he swiftly put together her words and her stare.
“Maeve?” Antony asked with concern.
Maeve looked back at Reeve, her heart beating fast. She pushed one single, simple thought into his mind.
We have the Dread Stone.
Abraxas recited the prophecy fully as they all stared at the three rings laid out on the table between them.
“Three were made and given away. Bound in gold and silver chains, the Magic lay, buried beneath another, from the protection of the father. When the night devours the sun, when the holy three join one, the Dread Stone will stand alone.”
“I can’t believe I never knew,” said Arianna as the three Sinclair siblings looked completely dumbfounded.
“How could you have?” asked Antony. “The Magic is sealed deep, buried just like the prophecy says.”
Their father’s Magic.
“If these are the Dread Stone,” began Arianna, “how come Mal never felt the pull of them?”
“Because, like Emerie’s prophecy said, they were laced with another’s Magic,” answered Abraxas.
“Father’s,” said Antony.
Arianna’s eyes widened.
Maeve nodded. “Vexkari.”
“Do you think Father intended to tell us?” asked Arianna, the question directed at Antony.
Antony ran his hand through his hair. He leaned back and shook his head. “I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“He didn’t know this war was coming,” said Arianna. “Or he would have equipped us with the knowledge that our protection was quite literally at our fingertips. Right?”
Reeve’s hand took Maeve’s smoothly, holding up her two striking fingers. “So if I put one on, I can produce some of that lightning that so easily slips from your fingers, can’t I?”
Maeve glared at him, annoyed that it was simply a powerful object of the Dread Armor that granted her such abilities.
“Don’t pout,” said Reeve with a small laugh, “it’s still incredible to be able to wield the power of something like this at all.”
Antony laughed. “And here I thought I was special.”
Alphard barked a laugh. “Oh Primus! That Sacred party where you got so mad at Kensing for beating you in the duels, the curtains in Mr. Iantrose’s smoking room exploded. Everyone accused the old man of drunkenly starting the fire, but it was you! I knew it was you.”
“It just sort of burst from me,” said Antony apologetically.
Arianna looked down at the stones, lost in thought.
“They need to become one again,” she said. “To give you a fighting chance.”
“It’s safer they remain in parts,” chimed Abraxas. “Keeping it in parts is harder for Shadow to get her claws on. If the three of you can harness the power of these stones, I have no doubt she could. And she’s been searching for this object herself and through Mal.”
“But Maeve should still take all three of them,” said Arianna.
“I don’t disagree,” said Reeve, “But you all have a part to play tomorrow.”
“I’d feel better if they remained in your possession, and if you needed them, they’d be at your disposal.”
“You are the one about to look Shadow in the eye,” argued Antony. “You’ll take all three.”
Arianna nodded.
“See,” said Antony, “you’re outvoted.”
“How nostalgic,” said Maeve coolly.
Reeve’s attention turned to the doorway, where Drystan and Mely appeared.
“Mely,” said Reeve, his voice flooding with concern.
And rightfully so. She was corpse-like in appearance. Her skin was sallow, and her eyes were darkened by her flooded pupils. Drystan held her up with ease, despite his small frame.
She looked to be on the brink of death.
A hollowing feeling prickled across Maeve’s skin.
She wasn’t the one on the brink of death.
“Mal,” whispered Maeve, as Mely’s half-lidded eyes landed on her.
With just a few words, Mely solidified Maeve’s claim:
“He is near his end.”