“There are other ways to travel, Miss Sinclair.”
Maeve frowned.
“I flew.”
Her lips parted, and her brows pulled together. “You flew?”
Reeve flashed his teeth. “You’ve never seen my full Aterna form. How could I forget?”
Maeve had wondered if the rumors about Reeve’s less than human shapeshifting were true. She brushed it off, understanding now.
“He sent you.”
Reeve nodded once. “It’s too dangerous for him to portal. They’re all being tracked. The Portals and the Fires are being compromised on purpose.”
“By who?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice to know.”
Maeve’s head kicked back. She ran her hands across her face. “Can you take me home to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?” She snapped.
“Because,” he sighed, “your little Magical body can’t handle the duress of the magic it would take.”
Maeve frowned. “You didn’t fly here.”
“No,” said Reeve. “I promise your father is working ceaselessly to get you home.”
“All this time, our eyes were on Germany. But they aren’t even responsible for this.”
“There is no one man or alliance or country responsible for this,” said Reeve. “I have been alive a long time. It takes the coming together of many great minds to do something so disastrous.”
“How did the Orator get here last night if he didn’t use a portal?”
Reeve’s face dropped. He didn’t know. The Orator had traveled here without her father’s knowledge.
Maeve began shaking her head. “This is all fucked, isn't it?”
Reeve was silent a moment.
She was right.
“You look like you haven’t slept at all,” he said.
“You pick that up from your godly wisdom?”
Reeve’s warrior front fell only for a moment when he looked at her like he might smile at her. Truly smile.
But the High Lord returned a blink later.
“Sleep. Eat,” he said. “You need your strength. Now, you’ve lingered by my side for too long. Walk back inside, Maeve,” said Reeve. “Trust no one here except your little Dread Descendant friend Malachite and your own blood. Walk back inside now.”
Maeve’s heart kicked. “What did you just say?”
Reeve glowered at her.
