Maeve shook her head. Panic raced through her.
The soldiers that stood before her didn’t look at her. They stared straight ahead.
“Don’t be stubborn, I want to see,” said Kietel.
Maeve stepped back, still shaking her head. Kietel looked at her shaking hands, her trembling lip.
“You’re afraid,” he said quietly.
Maeve’s jaw tightened. She scowled at him. Rage swelled inside her, fueled by embarrassment.
“You haven’t jumped since you jumped to me, have you?”
Maeve cursed herself. And refused to answer.
“At last,” he said. “A weakness.”
Maeve turned towards him.
“Do it,” he said. “Every day that you do not is another day you spend here without food.”
Maeve looked back at the two soldiers. Her stomach knotted, sweat pooled at the back of her neck and her palms.
“He’ll find me eventually,” she said quietly. Then she spoke louder and pointed at Nicklefrost. “I can’t get to his- he’ll have to open his mind to me.”
Kietel nodded.
Maeve stood before them, begging the part of Mal around her neck to keep her safe, to keep her calm.
The only thing standing in your way is you.
Mal’s voice rang out over her head. She regretted not letting him push her to jump before. Now she was cornered with the enemy breathing down her throat.
“Are you a Supreme?” She asked Felden.
He nodded.
Maeve looked at Nicklefrost. She didn’t ask him if he was ready. She barreled into his mind. Flashes of his life shot before her. Trainings, meetings, attacking Vaukore, a conversation with Headmaster Elgin, a blonde woman with little clothing on.
Maeve called out for Felden. And Nicklefrost’s mind bent to her. A memory popped forward and Maeve snagged it. They were training in a facility. Felden and Nicklefrost calling the drills.
Maeve took a steadying breath as the door to Felden’s mind opened, and she slipped inside. The darkness beneath her remained steady as the memory changed to Feldens. It looped through once and Maeve pushed deeper into his mind. There was nothing stopping her.
The room filled with soldiers reappeared, blurry at first. And then she saw herself. She did look disgusting. Her days old dirty and wet pajamas made her look like the prisoner she was.
Her eyes were solid white. She looked to her side, Felden’s side, at Nicklefrost. He glanced over. Maeve felt a surge of satisfaction. There was a confused fear in his eyes.
Maeve lunged for him, Felden’s magic bursting from his palms, palms that she controlled. She slammed Nicklefrost’s throat to the ground. Curse after curse slicing into his throat.
The room erupted in red light. Maeve screamed. She was yanked from Felden’s mind and sucked back into her own. Her arm burned hot. She gripped at it protectively.
She opened her eyes at the ceiling. Kietel stood over her. She hadn’t felt herself hit the floor. She pressed into her arm with a wince. She let her head rest on the wooden floor beneath her, panting. The metal shackles reappeared on her wrists.
“That is the problem, isn’t it?” Said Kietel quietly. “If you’re going to use that trick, you can’t protect yourself.”
Maeve looked over at Nicklefrost. Blood pooled beneath him. Two healers stood over him, working quickly to seal up the wound.
“He’ll be fine,” one of them said. “It isn’t too deep.”
