“You fought off that Grindylow,” corrected Maeve, mimicking his movement as she played with his ring around her neck.
Mal’s gazed dropped to the ring around her neck. “I am not afraid of them. In fact, I am ready to woo them,” he smirked up at her.
“Are you?” She asked with a smile. “And how is the wooing going here?”
“As good as expected. Those that know who I am think it’s remarkable that I would take such a humble job, working alongside the every day Magicals.”
Maeve bit her lip and shook her head. “I bet they do.”
Mal dipped his face closer to hers. Maeve heard footsteps creaking down the stairs of the shop.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.
“What about tonight?” He insinuated with a devilish calm.
“I have training tonight.” Maeve pushed off the counter and called to Mr. Bogstrum in the next room.
“Mr. Bogstrum, I’m going to use your fire!”
She heard muffled cursing from the other room. Mal shook his head.
Once she was back home, Maeve spent the rest of the day avoiding Ophelia, who had pestered her multiple times, ensuring that Mal would be attending dinner the following day.
She ducked into her father’s study, quietly closing the door behind her.
“Mal coming tomorrow?” Ambrose asked.
Maeve laughed and sighed. “Yes.”
“Are you ready for tonight?”
Maeve nodded.
“Are they giving you a hard time?”
“Of course they are,” said Maeve. “And I don’t even blame them.”
She sat in one of his oversized armchairs.
“Which ones in particular?”
“No,” said Maeve, unwilling to divulge which fellow Bellator in training were being rude to her. “Distance, remember?”
Ambrose raised his hands in surrender.
“Tonight will determine the Optimum,” said Ambrose. “They will see that you are not merely there because you are my daughter.”
And Ambrose was right.
Optimum was placement for each level and class of Bellator. It was a series of duels with only one winner per rank, who would earn the titles of Optimum. And in three weeks, be challenged once again by those in their fellow rank.
It wasn’t about age. It was about Power. It was likely Maeve and Roswyn, who had also been offered Bellator, would move into the higher ranks quickly.
Ambrose didn’t even smile when she won that night. He pinned the new badge on her black high collared vest without any emotion. Right next to a bright shiny S. She placed her fist over her heart and looked up at him. He gave her a nod and strolled away. Arman walked at his side.
“Congratulations, Sinclair,” said Hennington, Captain of the Bellator, and her direct officer. He was a few years her senior. A true Supreme, and a decorated Wizard.
“Thank you,” she said.
