He nodded.
Maeve answered plainly. “He was an orphan in London.”
“No idea of his bloodline?” Pressed Kietel.
“That’s two questions,” said Maeve cooly.
Her captor smiled, but Maeve could see he was fighting a temper. “You’re a clever girl from what I’m told. Surely you understand quite plainly why your school had to go. The government has had its hand in our Magical Educational System for far too long.”
“That’s what set him off, you know,” said Maeve quietly.
Kietel’s brows raised, and Maeve answered his unspoken question.
“He loved that school.”
His brows now pulled together. “I arrived just as the last of you made it through. I think he loves more than you are willing to admit. Because you’re in denial, or because you want to protect him. But either way, I did luck up with you as my bargaining chip.”
Maeve leaned back in the chair, completely unwilling to acknowledge what he said, but now fully aware that she was bait for both her father and for Mal.
He continued. “Answer my question.”
Maeve contemplated her answer. She had two options to consider, and either one could be beneficial or potentially hurt Mal.
“If you lie to me,” said Kietel, “I’ll know.”
Maeve scoffed. “No, you won’t. My shields are not part of my magic, they are indestructible. As all Pureblood children’s are. No one get’s in my mind without my permission.”
“We will see.” No smile laced with venom. A simple threat.
Maeve sighed and looked at her dirty nails with boredom as she answered. “Mal’s bloodline is irrelevant.”
“Not to me it isn’t,” said Kietel, a little too honestly.
Maeve’s eyes flashed to him. Her jaw fell open slightly as it hit her.
“You are doubting if you’re the Dread Descendant, aren’t you?” She smiled. Kietel looked as though he was scolding himself for speaking so boldly. She remembered Reeve, how he knew about Mal just by being around him. How she herself had known there was something there. Rowan and Larliesl knew somehow. “And now you have seen him. And now you doubt. . .because you can feel that power in him too.” Maeve smiled. “You may be a powerful dark wizard who commands the German Magical Militia, but you know nothing of civilized conversation or holding your cards close.”
“Yes,” he said in a mocking tone. “You Pureblood bitches are all the same.”
Maeve laughed audibly, feeling more and more like herself every bait he took.
“That may be the case, but at least I’m not desperately hoping to be someone that I’m not.”
“Then he is of the Dread House,” said Kietel, the color slipping from his face.
Maeve folded her dirty hands in her lap and straightened. One pointed smile was all she needed to answer his question.
“It matters not,” said Kietel. “Soon I will have control of the Magicals and the Humans.”
“And you want the Humans because you think they are creating weapons you need?”
“I don’t need their weapons. I need the wars they create. War creates chaos. Chaos yields power. War sustains power.”
“War ruins everything. It is why we are here at all.”
“You need a history lesson, girl.” He nearly laughed. “Where did you get that ring around your neck?”
Maeve’s hand gripped at Mal’s ring.
