“You remember my sister,” Maeve said to Mal, gesturing to Arianna.
“Of course. Hello Arianna.”
Maeve could have sworn she saw a flush come to her sister’s cheeks. This was no surprise.
“This is my Mother,” said Maeve quickly, not meeting her gaze.
Mal extended his hand to Clarissa, who smiled and took it. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Sinclair. Your home is beautiful.”
Clarissa averted her eyes to Ambrose.
“And of course,” beamed Maeve, “you remember my father.”
Ambrose ran his fingers through his silvering hair before extending a gracious arm to Mal.
“Good to have you,” said Ambrose.
“Thank you for having me, sir.” Mal smiled softly, humbly.
“As I said at Vaukore, the invitation is open-ended.”
“I hate that I missed your teaching at Vaukore. The other professors speak so highly of you.”
Ambrose grinned and gave a wink, “Ahh- nonsense.”
Mal gave Ambrose his award-winning smile.
“We’ll let you get settled then,” said Ambrose.
“Trudy,” snapped Clarissa. The old elf appeared with a CRACK. “Show Mr. Peur to his quarters.”
“I’ll show him,” interjected Maeve.
Trudy obscured with their belongings without a word.
“Just in time for dinner, too,” said Ambrose. “Anything you fancy, Malachite?”
“Oh, no, sir. I’m only honored to be here.”
Ambrose clapped him on the shoulder and strode off down the corridor. Maeve and Mal began ascending the winding staircase to the mansion’s upper floors. The guest suite was on the third floor, one floor above Maeve’s room, at the center of the landing.
Mal looked up at the painted ceilings.
“I told you it was over the top,” muttered Maeve.
“You love it here,” he retorted without hesitation.
They stopped on the first floor landing, looking over the bannister to the south side of the foyer below. Through the two story windows that arched into the ceiling was the stone balcony and the gardens.
She was certain Mal had never seen a home like this.
On the third floor, he let out a chuckle as they entered the massive guest suite, which was ornately decorated in emerald and silver. The Serpentine Crest hung on a tapestry above the black marble fireplace. All his belongings were already in place. His clothes were put away, his books neatly placed on the shelf, and his Vaukore Paragon badge was on the bedside table in a crystal case.
Two emerald green leather armchairs sat on either side of the fireplace. The four-poster bed was trimmed with silver and emerald fabric, too.
“The room’s enchanted,” explained Maeve. “It decorates itself to match the aesthetic of its guest.”
Mal picked up a brown wrapped package on the bed and looked at her questioningly.
