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.”
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, invarying 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.
