She started with Remy. She pointed two fingers at him, but she didn’t erase his mind. She dove into it, searching for the memory of their encounter.
She had never done it before, but she knew it must be possible. She grabbed onto Remy’s memory of being in the Yatir Forest, of their encounter. She held up her hand, preparing to destroy just that memory.
She snapped her fingers. A cracking sound echoed across Remy’s mind. Maeve held her hand up to her eyes. Blinding white light surrounded her.
She pulled out of Remy’s mind, prepared to be satisfied with another accomplished new spell. But her face fell gaunt as she saw Remy.
He was convulsing like the man in alley in Albania. His body shook, his mouth foamed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Maeve’s hand shot over her mouth.
“What did you do?” Mal said.
“I-” she stammered.
Mal crossed over to Remy, pulling him up by the collar. He wasn’t dead, but he may as well have been.
Just like that man in Albania.
“Answer me,” said Mal.
“I just- I don’t know- I just-”
“I told you to erase their minds.” He looked over at Brighton and the rest. “Not shatter them.”
“I didn’t mean to,” said Maeve. “I was trying to do something else-”
“That’s not what I instructed you to do,” said Mal, dropping Remy to the ground.
“I was trying to erase the specific memory, alter it-”
“Again,” said Mal, “I didn’t say practice a new idea on him I said-”
“I know what you said!”
Maeve’s ribs were throbbing now. Her leg pulsating. The numbing spells and potions were completely worn off.
Mal inhaled slowly. Maeve swallowed.
He looked back down at Remy.
“Erase his mind now,” said Mal with calculated control. “If there is any mind left.”
Maeve dropped her hands to her sides and nodded.
“And then wipe the rest clean, too.”
The forest stilled as Mal’s slender fingers pulled the Dread Crown from a hollowed out spot in a tree. It was shining like it has just been polished. Not a single bit of dirt or tree bark, dust or debris, touched its radiating silver color. Serpents ran, twisting and biting, across the sparkling crown. Their eyes were set with emerald stones, and their flared tongues of rubies.
Magic radiated from it, surging the longer Mal held it.
“It’s beautiful,” said Maeve.
He frowned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Finders Stone. It was snapped down the middle once more, laying in two equal pieces in his hand.
“Well now we know your Uncles weren’t idiots,” said Mal.
“That is still up for debate,” said Maeve. She ran her fingers over the stone. “It must break after each use.”
