“I’m fine,” she said and looked back over her shoulder. Belvadora was walking in the opposite direction as Abraxas watched her.
Mal looked back and raised his brows. “Flavor of the week?”
“Eventually he has to actually fall for someone,” said Maeve under her breath. “Maybe it’s her.”
Mal shook his head. “It’s not her.”
Maeve perused the book Mal slipped her that evening. The book confirmed what they already suspected. The ring Mal took from his father and the locket he spoke of were powerful magic objects. They were made with Dread Magic, and they were two of many Magical objects.
“Seven of them,” said Maeve with a surprised exhale. “The Dread Armor.”
Mal nodded. The Dread Ring sat atop his finger, glimmering in the candlelight. The two silver skulls that held the black stone in place had deep ruby gems for eyes.
“I think it’s safe to say this locket it speaks of is the same one your father did,” said Maeve.
Mal nodded. Maeve flipped back a few pages.
“So the ring, the locket, the dagger, the goblet, the spell book, the stone, and the crown,” said Maeve.
“How do we even begin to search for these things?” Asked Mal. “There’s only one other object we know that even made it to Earth. The rest could be scattered across the seven realms for all we know.”
“Two,” corrected Maeve.
Mal’s brows raised.
“The goblet was once on display in the Double O. Until they scrubbed the place of any mention of Dread magic. It was auctioned off privately. But I bet we could figure out to who.”
They were silent for a second.
“Where did you get this?” Maeve asked.
Mal hesitated. “It was in my room at your home.”
Maeve nearly dropped the book. She exhaled a quick burst of air. “That’s not a coincidence.”
“I’m aware of that,” said Mal. “Someone knows.”
Maeve chewed her bottom lip. “Or someone saw you duel and thinks if you had these powerful objects, you could defeat Kietel.”
“Reeve could easily do that,” drawled Mal. “Why hasn’t he?”
Maeve continued perusing the mystery book. “I don’t think Kietel has done anything my father or Reeve deem defeat worthy.”
“The papers are saying he’s murdering human born Magicals who refuse to declare him as the Dread Descendant,” said Mal.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” she said. “But the papers also lie. Father and Uncle Mavros were arguing before we left about it. Abraxas’ father wants to support him. A few other pureblood houses do too. They are tired of our current government.”
She looked up at Mal. His mind was distant, far from her words.
“Mal,” she said softly.
He slowly looked at her.
“What are you thinking?”
Mal looked out the window. “I’m thinking my priority needs to be finding these objects so I can be who I claim to be. They aren’t just symbols. They are power. They are me.”
Maeve leaned back in her chair. “You’re thinking of leaving school.” It wasn’t a question.
