“What a surprise, Reeve,” Ambrose laughed. “It’s been years since you visited Earth.”
“Four years actually,” Reeve corrected.
“Has it been that long?” Asked Ambrose. “My my. Come- the duels are about to start.”
Maeve looked over at Abraxas, who was in a trance, nearly drooling. She pushed him playfully and linked her arm with his. “Let’s go watch Mal.”
Twenty minutes later, Ambrose and what would be considered the most influential witches and wizards in the Magical World, stood with their mouths hung open as Mal defeated a Bellator with Supreme status and a Magical Militia Captain twice his age. Then another. Then another. It was the toughest duels Maeve had ever personally witnessed. There were spells shooting back and forth so rapidly it was difficult to keep up. And Mal took them all down without breaking a sweat.
When Mal’s deadly finger was placed on Arman’s throat, the party erupted in clapping and cheers for him. Ambrose’s second’s face was set in emotionless shock.
Mal helped him to his feet, and they shook hands. Arman shakily stepped into the crowd and Mal bowed his head at the applause and cheers.
He raised his hand up in the air, and the crowd fell silent and still at his silent command.
“If I may,” he said. “You’ve all been so graciously welcoming. It is an honor to duel here tonight. If you will indulge me, I’d like to share this spotlight with another Magical. I’d like you to see the power of two new age Supreme’s together.”
Maeve’s cheeks burned hot.
Mal gestured his hand towards her. “The Premier’s blood runs strong. Maeve Sinclair.”
A buzz lifted through the party.
Mal smiled fully.
It was an intoxicating sight. She would drown to see it never fade.
“Indulge me,” he said softly.
Those in front of her parted and she took her place beside him. He took her hand and kissed her fingers gently.
He was putting on quite the show.
“I don’t have your ring,” she whispered through her smile.
“You don’t need it, Little Viper.” He fingers slipped down her pointer and middle finger. “Let it all flow.”
It had been a dance. So intertwined. It was like they had rehearsed it a thousand times. Each step was so natural, so instinctual, so passionate that she nearly cried as he circled around her, one hand on her throat and his pointer finger at her temple in victory.
He released her quickly and pulled her to her feet. The pair embraced and pulled away from one another. Mal’s eyes were swimming with a wild desire. Maeve panted as they shared one breath.
Larliesl’s cheers boomed over the rest. Maeve’s jaw soon hurt from smiling. Mal was surrounded by Bellator who were part of the Magical Militia, not much older than them, as soon as he broke away from Maeve. They looked at him in admiration, offering him drinks and praise. He accepted them all with elegant ease. Each one desperate for him to know their name.
Perhaps high ranking Double O officials were not all that mattered in the game to come. The boys that surrounded him looked up at him like Roswyn and Hendrix and the rest did. Pure admiration.
Her Father appeared at her side.
“What do you think?” Maeve asked Ambrose, her hands behind her back as she watched Mal.
Ambrose stared forward. “I think. . .”
Maeve’s head shot to Ambrose, expecting some light- hearted comment from her father. It was quite the opposite. Ambrose’s face was serene.
Ambrose didn’t answer. Maeve changed the subject.
“Is it odd to see your men drinking and dancing?”
Ambrose smiled. “Not at all. I would be worried if they didn’t engage in some revelry.”
