“Reeve is here,” she said plainly.
“The High Lord is here,” he corrected her. “A very unexpected visit.”
“The war is about to turn ugly,” said Maeve. “I can feel it. You can feel it. And I guess The High Lord felt it despite being tucked realms away.”
“I imagine that is exactly why he is here.” Ambrose looked over at her. “You were otherworldly up there.”
Maeve bit her lip through a smile.
“How did I do?” Asked Mal, appearing before them.
Ambrose smiled and shook his head. “Bloody brilliant, my boy, brilliant.”
Maeve gave Mal a slight nod.
“Later this evening,” said Ambrose, grabbing a drink from a floating tray, “come to my office after the party.” Ambrose gave him a wink and left them alone.
“Well done,” said Maeve.
Mal played with The Dread Ring around his finger absentmindedly.
“Though,” continued Maeve, “I figured once they saw you duel, you’d receive an invitation. Seems like your introduction to The High Lord of Aterna will be sooner than anticipated.”
“The most powerful magic in the world runs through his veins,” said Mal. “It’s strange. I felt his presence the moment he arrived.”
“I did too,” said Maeve. “But I think we are alone in that.”
Maeve looked across the Hall just in time to see a girl named Isabella Zaichosky meet her gaze and look away immediately. Maeve frowned.
“Mal!” Abraxas appeared at their side. “Come, I want you to meet my parents.”
They disappeared into the crowd, and Maeve wandered out of the Hall. She crossed The Ballroom, where distant conversation drifted across the foyer.
Her father’s infectious laughter filled the air.
She turned the corner into the Bar.
Orator Moon, Her father and Reeve were pouring themselves oversized glasses of Immortally Brewed Bourbon from the bar.
“Maeve,” called Ambrose. “Come and join us.”
Maeve smiled.
Reeve looked over his shoulder at her casually, his eyes tracing down to her toes and back up. A grin pulled up at his lips.
Maeve reproached him with her eyes. “Your Grace,” said Maeve.
“Maeve, the Sinclair youngest,” said the handsome High Lord.
Ambrose slapped his arm around her shoulders with a grin. Reeve leaned against the bar with royal ease. He was finely dressed in a black suit with amethyst embroidered swirls of fire. His silken dark hair grazed his shoulders, soft waves billowing throughout.
He was stunning. Not like Mal, whose chiseled and tall face was smooth as moonstone, his slender and built frame a perfect match to Maeve. But Reeve was different. Where Mal was the most gorgeous boy she had ever laid eyes on, Reeve was pure man. Even the thick velvet of his suit couldn’t conceal the muscles underneath. His tan tattooed hands gripped his goblet in such a way she was certain he could shatter her whole with one movement of those fingers. Her eyes snapped away from his frame as he spoke with one brow raised.
“Dueling like that, surely you’ll be offered a top spot out of school,” said Reeve.
“She already has been offered it,” murmured Moon into his glass.
Maeve grinned.
