Mal looked back down at Jude. “You’ve gotten taller.”
“Sister Caroline says I’ll be as tall as you at this rate.” Jude grabbed Mal’s hand and pulled him towards the orphanage. “We already had lunch, but I can find you something in the kitchen. Your friend too.” He looked back at Maeve, a perfectly innocent face. “Sorry, I forgot your name.”
Mal tugged gently back on his hand.
“Jude,” he said, his voice smooth. “I’m not staying.”
Jude turned. His joyful spark gone. “But I thought you were going to stay and work here, like last summer.”
“I was,” said Mal. “But things have changed.”
Jude’s mouth twitched, turning into a slight tremble. “But you said.”
Mal reached towards him and brushed the top of his head. “I know. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure everyone was ok.”
Jude nodded. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his tears away. “Okay.”
“Bye Jude.”
“Bye,” the boy said, his voice shaking.
Mal released him and turned sharply on his heel, walking back towards Maeve.
“It was lovely to meet you, Jude,” said Maeve with a soft smile.
He never tore his eyes away from Mal, disappointment ringing from his face. Mal didn’t look back at Jude as he passed Maeve. She took a few steps back and then turned and followed Mal back to that darkened alley way one block down.
The owner and curator of the fine teas at Esmarelles was delighted to see Maeve. After a courteous conversation, and Maeve purchased a box of new tea leaves, Maeve and Mal stepped towards the white brick fireplace. It was decorated with rosy shades of flowers and vases.
“Have you moved through the fire before?” Asked Maeve.
“No,” said Mal.
“All Magical fires are connected, but each fireplace is like a locked doorway. Only those with a key are able to pass through. And our individual Magic is our key.”
“And I have a key to Sinclair Estates?”
“To the foyer fireplace, yes,” said Maeve, placing the tin can of tea in her bag and pulling out two silver coins. She dropped them in the hanging teapot next to the fireplaces, which was the fee for using the fire. “See you on the other side.”
She smiled widely and stepped onto the marble base of the fireplace. The warmth from the fire vanished, and the flames turned cool.
Maeve stepped in, closed her eyes, and recited her destination over in her head. The cool flames rose high, swirling up past her head, and she was whisked away from the tea shop, and after only a moment of an unpleasant feeling of being squeezed, she was placed gently back on the ground. It was her preferred form of travel.
Though obscuring with Mal did put her in a desirable position.
She stepped out onto the glistening white marble floors in the grand entryway of her home. There was a large sweeping staircase and double high ceilings. Sinclair Estates had been built in the late 1800s and was decorated lavishly with the time.
“There she is.”
Maeve turned as Ambrose Sinclair came down the stairs with favor in his stride. She met him at the bottom and threw her arms around him. She inhaled his familiar scent of cigars, filling her with an immediate sense of safety.
“Hi, Maeve,” said Arianna, who ascended the stairs slowly behind her father. Maeve nodded politely in her direction.
The sisters didn’t embrace, but it was uncommon for the pair to show affection.
The fire crackled loudly, and Mal stepped into the foyer as Maeve’s Mother, Clarissa, rounded the corner.
Mal stepped towards Maeve.
