“Your braids,” said Eryx tensely, as they stood just outside the Celestian Palace, preparing for their journey to Heims. “They’re Elven.”
“Well,” said Maeve with a small shrug, absently touching her hair, “Zimsy taught me.”
She and Eryx hadn’t spoken since he nearly put a sword through her at the last mention of Zimsy. Neither of them need ask if there was an update. There wasn’t. No news from someone with a gift like Mely’s was good news.
“Zimsy told me a story once of your childhood,” said Eryx as they remained waiting for Drystan and Reeve to bring the horses.
“Oh?” asked Maeve.
Eryx nodded. “She said you were rebelliously independent, and she herself was always being punished for it.”
Acid churned in Maeve’s chest. She didn’t look at Eryx as he continued.
“You wanted to make your own bed, run your own bath, do your own hair. But one day, your mother struck both of you as punishment. And Zimsy said from that day on, you had a common enemy. And you swore to her that she would pay for her sins.”
It was clear to Maeve her friend had spent a decent amount of time with Eryx before Reeve hid him away in self-preservation. And even clearer, as he continued to speak, that he’d paid astute attention to Zimsy.
Eryx was silent for a moment. “I’ve seen the scars on the backs of her arms. So my question is. . . Did you make her pay?”
The thought of Zimsy’s scars and her horrible stand-in mother. . .
Clarrissa Sinclair.
She thought often about her, about her cruelty. Mal had asked Maeve numerous times if she wanted her handled, brought to thecourt at Castle Morana. But as much as Maeve hated her, there were two distinct factors that stopped her from shattering her fake mother’s mind.
The first was that Maeve wondered what such infidelity would feel like. What the physical reminder that your husband chose to sleep with another woman would do to you, let alone having to pretend you created, carried, and birthed said child. None of it was an excuse for her mistreatment. But it was enough to stop and make her think.
The second, and strongest reason she didn’t kill Clarissa was Arianna. She wouldn’t suffer her sister the loss of another parent.
So all Maeve said was, “I have no idea where she is.”
“How old were you when you swore that?”
“I was eight. It was a Thursday. Zimsy and I played cards afterwards. Then I showed her the spot where Arianna hid her diary.” She paused a moment and smiled, reflecting on that day. “I refused to let Zimsy make my bed. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last time I allowed her to be punished in that house by a choice I made. My mother struck her across the face with the back of her hand. No magic. Just the physical manifestation of her hatred. That wasn’t the first time I had seen her hurt Zimsy, but I hadn’t cared. Zimsy was always trailing me, wanting to help me, annoying me, and I didn’t understand then. . . After my mother struck Zimsy, she turned to me and hit me so hard across the face, my head spun. She had never hit me before. And suddenly I understood two things. The first was that I would never allow Zimsy to be hurt again at my fault. And the second was that I had made a friend through our mutual hatred of my mother.”
“And you failed.”
Despite Eryx’s temper being much more in check than it was at their last breakfast, his words still cut deep. For indeed, she had failed. Eryx scoffed as if speaking to her was so beneath him. Maeve smiled, a wicked thought occurring to her.
“You know,” she began, “you should be nicer to me if you want to be with her.”
Eryx frowned.
“Couple bad words from me and who knows,” she continued, sucking in through her teeth, “my best friend might not find you so worthy of her companionship.”
Before Eryx could tell her off, Reeve and Drystan appeared with the horses.
Reeve’s gaze locked on her at once. His eyes traveled from her turtleneck, down the fashionable coat, to the boots at her feet, and back up to her eyes. He wrestled with the smile twisting at his lips.
“You look. . .nice,” he said, fishing for her gratitude.
Gratitude, she wouldn’t give him so early in the morning. For all Maeve knew, the head-to-toe matching luxury winter set just appeared in her room. She held her chin high and remained silent.
“There’s only three horses,” said Eryx.
Maeve’s head whipped to where Drystan stood, with indeed only three horses' reins in his hands. She looked back up at Reeve.
“Something to say?” he asked with false concern as Eryx and Drystan mounted two of the three horses with ease.
