Maeve smiled. “Best of luck, Mr. Peur.”
“Come and watch.”
Maeve shook her head. “That sounds terribly boring,”
Mal reached out and ran his fingers across his ring that draped across her chest. His fingers hooked around the chain and tugged her close to where he leaned in the doorway.
His mouth hung open. “I didn’t ask,” he said with a raised brow.
Maeve attended without complaint.
Before their return to Vaukore, Ambrose Obscured them to the city to purchase school books for their final year and new uniforms and cloaks. Ambrose insisted on buying Mal a tailored set of Serpentine attire from?Wizard’s Wears, the most expensive Magical Shop in Paris.
Maeve knew Mal would have secretly liked to decline, but Ambrose’s love language was gift-giving, and Mal was wise to gratefully accept.
Ambrose also purchased them both new cauldrons and vial sets. Mal eyed a black leather-bound journal in the window of Hobs and Hyde Bindings. Ten minutes later, Mal’s name was burned across the back cover in gold inlay.
“Ambrose!”
They turned, and one of Ambrose’s colleagues was striding towards them.
“Maeve,” he said, nodding at her curtly.
He then turned to Mal with the most excited look on his face.
“Malachite, my boy,” he said, extending his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Beaux,” said Mal, shaking his hand with a smile.
“I cannot tell you enough how amazed I was at your dueling skills,” said Mr. Beaux. “And your dancing.” He nudged Maeve with a wink.
Maeve pressed her lips together and avoided her father’s gaze.
“Thank you, sir,” said Mal. “That’s too kind.”
“And London,” said Mr. Beaux, “hasn’t stopped talking about you either.”
Mr. Beaux looked at Maeve and laughed. “I told her, as her husband, it was making me a little jealous!”
Maeve smiled softly at Mr. Beaux. They were already falling for him. And they didn’t even know the greatest secret of the century yet.
He was their salvation.
On their final summer evening before returning to Vaukore, Maeve had a surprise for Mal. They saddled up two horses and began a journey north. They rode a few times over the summer, exploring cliffside caves and the forest, but they had never traveled as far as where Maeve was taking them.
The ride was just short of an hour, and they took turns setting the pace. Sometimes they traveled quickly, wind blowing violently around them. Then Mal brought them to a slow trot, where they admired the cliffside sunset and talked about their final year at Vaukore.
Mal decided that until the Human War conflict was resolved, and his studies at Vaukore complete, he would be making no claims as The Dread Descendant.
Maeve understood. There was too much happening. The Orator’s Office was occupied. The Magical Militia was now fighting in a human war they were never supposed to be in. But as civilian death tolls rose in the spring, Ambrose felt he had no choice but to lend his army to protecting the innocent.
Mal’s secret protected him too.
There was still so much they didn’t know.
And Kietel was becoming violent, rash and out of control. With an army to back him.
“Did you see the paper this morning?”
