“You ended one war just to begin another,” she said softly. “I was a child when that shadow overtook the Dread Lands. My father was a picture of strength. I never saw fear in his eyes until that shadow came for us. Rest assured, young wizard, it is still there, lurking in the Dark Peaks, sinking in the Black Deep and buried in the vines and roots that snake across the land.”
Mal nodded at her.
Ambrose spoke now. “Mal’s coronation will be on the thirty-first of December in four months time. We have all been given a choice. The Dread Lands are neither your burden Queen Lithandrian nor yours, High Lord of Aterna. But should you decide to aid us in our fight, that is the day to pledge yourself as allies.”
Chapter 39
It had been Maeve’s idea to hold Mal’s coronation on his birthday. He would be twenty-two on New Year’s Eve.
They had four months to find the Dread Armor and charm the Magical World.
Ambrose brought them back to Sinclair Estates after the meeting with the other realms.
“That went well,” said Ambrose lightly.
Mal looked to her father. “I think so.”
Ambrose stopped and turned towards him.
“Regardless of your speech, which I think you truly mean, you threaten to destroy the power that is already in play,” said Ambrose. “It will not be given to you without a fight.”
Mal nodded.
“But Lithandrian like you,” continued Ambrose with a chuckle. “Which is unheard of.”
“Why doesn’t Reeve like her?” Asked Maeve.
“The High Lord,” he corrected, “and Lithandrian have never gotten along to my knowledge.”
“They both turned their back on Magicals three hundred years ago,” said Maeve. “It seems like they are perfect company.”
Ambrose stared at her for a moment and then spoke. “Reeve’s father and Lithandrian’s father were responsible for that. Reeve is our greatest ally. If you are to be Mal’s second, you need to learn to forget the past and make moves calculated towards a future.”
Maeve nodded.
“You can continue to stay here Malachite,” said Ambrose. “Until we secure you a place of your own.”
“What about the Hapswitch House?”
“The flat in London?”
Maeve nodded. “It’s been vacant for years. Since Uncle A died.”
Mal looked to Ambrose.
“I can take you to see it today,” said Ambrose.
Mal nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“And,” said Maeve tentatively. “While we are gone, it can be prepared for Mal to move in.”
“Gone?” He asked.
Maeve looked to Mal.
“So,” said Ambrose, looking back and forth between Mal and Maeve, “you’ll be leaving in a few days to track down this Dread Armor?”
Maeve hesitated. “We don’t want to waste any time.”
