He knew.
How could be possibly know?
She stepped towards him, ready to argue.
He let out a soft growl and his teeth smashed together as he turned fully towards her.
“Inside the Castle. Now.”
The command was so stern, so passionate that her mouth snapped shut. His eyes burned with intense fire, demanding and fierce. A bit of that Immortal power whipped from him, tossing her hair behind her shoulders and buckling her knees slightly.
“I don’t obey you, remember?” She said challengingly. “I am not of the Immortal people. I am not a subject of Aterna.”
“Inside.”
“How do you know about Mal?” She said lowly.
“Sinclair,” he started, his voice laced with threat.
“No,” she shuttered. “How dare you come to me and say such a thing and then demand I walk away.”
“Do not feign as though you aren’t aware.”
“Of course I am aware,” she hissed. “I just don’t know how you are.”
“If I tell you, will you go inside?”
“Maybe.”
Two Magical Militia were making their way into the courtyard through the topiaries.
Reeve watched them with narrowed eyes as she spoke. “It screams from him. His Magic. Dread Magic is engraved in my memory.”
Maeve opened her mouth to speak, but Reeve spoke first.
“Leave me.”
Those Magical Militia were heading towards them.
She huffed and turned on her heel.
“Fucking brat,” he murmured.
Maeve swiveled on her heel. “Excuse me?”
Reeve stepped towards her. The mountains beneath them trembled. The sky darkened, and the temperature turned hot. Flaming hot.
But her blood ran cold. She glanced aside as the trees in the courtyard seems to yearn for escape. Loose fragments on stone rolled beneath their feet.
Her jaw fell slightly open and she looked up at him.
His voice was barely audible as he said, “turn the fuck around and go inside.”
And she obeyed with no argument to stay. She turned and left the courtyard. The sky lightened and the ground beneath her stilled. She looked back over her shoulder. The courtyard was calm and Reeve was nowhere to be seen.
“You’re pacing,” said Mal, not looking up from his book.
Maeve walked back and forth across a flat edge of roots and rock against Mirror Lake, her boots squishing lightly in the muddy earth. They shouldn’t be getting dirty, they cost too much money- her mother’s nagging voice echoed in her mind.
