Maeve laughed.
“It’s not a joke,” he said. He looked to Mal. “Just some silly girl’s emotions getting the best of her.”
Maeve scowled. Abraxas started to interject, but Mal cut him off.
“This doesn’t concern you,” he said to Roswyn.
“Oh, it concerns me a great deal,” he replied.
“Enough,” said Mal. “Get up.”
Everyone, including Maeve, obeyed.
Mal grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back down to her seat. His face was searching hers. He was silent until the table cleared.
“That’s what this is about?” Mal asked her.
Maeve scoffed and snatched her wrist away from him. His face turned stern as she pushed her chair away from the table and made her way angrily towards the door.
Certain that he was on her heels, she didn’t look back. Once they were in the corridor, he called after her.
“You’re angry with me?” Mal called after her. “Why?”
She didn’t stop as her blood boiled.
“Speak your mind, Sinclair!”
“Because,” Maeve turned on her heel and faced him boldly. “You misunderstand me still! I have proven myself to you again and again, over and over, and my frustration with the fact that I do not stand at your side and they do is perceived as ‘silly, girlish emotions.’ I have given you everything. Every ounce of energy, pushed myself to the edge for you willingly. I have held your secrets and you mine. I can perform magic in circles around those boys, and you know it. I have won every duel and have proven a loyalty to you they can only dream of.”
She let herself breathe for a moment to take in his face. It was set in arrogant stone, as it always was, but something was different. Maeve had surprised him with her outburst.
She waited for his look of disgust or his lip to curl upwards and his eyes to devour her. With her last ounce of courage, she finished her speech.
“I worship you.”
A noticeable breath rose in Mal’s chest, and the exhale escaped his lips quicker than he probably would have liked. As Maeve’s adrenaline faded, she quickly became aware of the cold evening air chilling her skin.
Mal lowered his proud chin, and she caught a glimpse of what looked like a smile tugging at his lips. His eyes lifted to hers. “Say that again.”
Maeve’s lips pulled into a thin line. Mal’s eyes darkened. His smirk vanished.
“I said, ‘say that again,’ Sinclair.”
Maeve swallowed.
She obeyed.
“I worship you.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, one of satisfaction. He removed his jacket that was slung over his shoulder and walked towards her. He brushed against her lightly, rounding behind her and placing his coat on her.
“Pay attention, Maeve, for I’ll only say this once.” His voice hummed in the silent corridor. His hands slipped into his pockets. “I do not control the actions of others. If you want a place at Hummingdoor’s table then take it. Demand it. But if you think you do not stand at my side, then you are not at all the clever witch I thought you were.”
Maeve opened her mouth to fire a retort.
“Goodnight, Miss Sinclair,” whispered Mal, his cheek mere inches from hers. He turned promptly and made his way towards the Serpentine Common Room and Dorm.
Maeve looked over her shoulder at him as he strolled away.
