Mal arrived not a minute late. Maeve watched him stride between two tall bookshelves towards her. His dark hair was pushed back, perfectly in place.
“Good evening, Sinclair,” said Mal, politely.
“I asked for anyone but you.”
“There’s no one better than me,” he said without bothering to look at her.
Maeve watched him set out his parchment and books.
“Wonderful,” she said with a slight grimace.
“It is true you performed on an Elite level for Charms last year? That is, to say, beyond a fourth-year level as just a second-year student?” Asked Mal without missing a beat.
“Yes,” replied Maeve, lazily.
“And that you spent the summer working on the Committee on Experimental Charms at the Orator’s Office?”
Maeve paused for a moment.
“Yes,” she answered hesitantly, surprised by his questions. No one outside of the school Professors, and a few jealous and nosey students, knew about that.
“Because you created a new memory charm last term? With Headmaster Rowan?”
“Rowan can barely take credit for that and I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had a biography published,” laughed Maeve.
Malachite’s famously charming smile appeared. His silence told her he wasn’t continuing without an answer.
“Yes,” said Maeve, laying into her answer. She opened her Alchemy book.
“I’m sure Rowan made sure you had that opportunity at The Orator’s Office then,” said Mal, turning the pages of his potions book as his smile faded.
Maeve picked up on a change in his tone.
“Actually,” she started, “my father did. He’s very close to Orator Moon.”
“Now you’re bragging,” smirked Mal.
“Wouldn’t you?”
His face hardened. Maeve immediately knew she had stuck a nerve. Mal didn’t have parent’s to brag about. Likely sensing she was about to apologize, Mal spoke before she had the chance.
“Well, according to your Alchemy scores you have nothing to brag about. Let’s get started, shall we?”
Maeve didn’t object.
The next morning at breakfast, she was reading her first edition of “A Witches Guide to a Modern World” by Evelyn Starbound (a gift from her father) when a flash of bright blonde hair appeared by her side.
“So,” began the musical voice that belonged to none other than Abraxas, “am I to understand that the one and only Maeve Sinclair has actually stooped to being tutored?”
He gave a dramatic shiver.
“Shut up, Mr. Rosethorn,” said Maeve plainly, taking a bite of her toast.
“Oh, resorting to formalities. You do know how to wound me.”
Maeve smiled at him from the corner of her eye.
Abraxas had been her friend since they were children. In fact, Maeve couldn’t remember a time that they hadn’t gotten along perfectly. This was partly due to Abraxas being Maeve’s cousin, as her Mother, Clarissa, was a former Rosethorn. Abraxas had been just as sour as Maeve when she wound up in a different court, but forgave her shortly into their first year at Vaukore. In fact, all of Maeve’s childhood friends were given a place in Serpentine.
