“What’s there to figure out?” Said Primrose, nastily. “Get married and start producing heirs.”
Maeve grimaced and looked to Agatha, whom she knew strongly disliked her daughter-in-law’s mother.
“Prim,” said Ambrose. Primrose looked down at him. “Maeve will be Malachite’s second.”
Agatha slammed her fist on the table. “Now that’s more like it.”
Primrose’s eyes moved to Maeve. “His second.”
Mal nodded. “Maeve is an excellent fighter.”
Primrose looked to Clarissa, her daughter. “And her betrothment to Alphard Mavros?”
Abraxas choked on his drink, and Maeve’s stomach plummeted.
The room fell cold. Silent.
“My what?”
Clarissa avoided Ambrose’s gaze. Maeve’s head whipped to her father.
“My. What?” She said, biting into each word.
Ice was radiating from Mal next to her. The entire room dropped in temperature. Significantly.
Primrose laughed. “Merlin, Ambrose. She doesn’t even know?”
Abraxas’s eyes darted between them as they spoke. Arianna stared at her plate.
“Things are changing, Prim,” said Ambrose. “The agreements we had with the Mavros-”
“Is suddenly void because she is to be the Prince of Darkness’ second in command? Can she still not produce heirs and continue strong Magical bloodlines? Speaking of,” said Primrose, “Arianna. What’s the hold-up?”
Clarissa’s eyes rolled. “Mother, I don’t think a dinner party is an appropriate place to discuss such things.”
“When should we discuss it? Morning tea?” Asked Primrose. “By the time I was her age, I already had two.” Primrose turned to Maeve. “And by the time I was her age, I was already with child,” said Primrose proudly.
“We aren’t even married yet,” said Arianna, looking to their mother for support.
Primrose shrugged. She and Agatha began arguing. Their voices drained from Maeve’s ears.
She was arranged to marry Alphard. And no one told her. Alphard knew, it only made sense. He had probably known for years.
“Well obviously that’s not happening,” she blurted out.
Their conversation halted.
“You think you are special?” Primrose set her drink down. “You think you can skip the transitions of this family, and the duties of a Sacred Seventeen-”
“I don’t give a damn about those duties,” said Maeve.
Primrose’s eyes slid to Mal. “Do you.”
“Of course I do,” said Mal calmly.
Maeve’s stomach twisted around. Her throat tightened and her jaw seized up.
“Magic is dying here on Earth. creating and preserving Magical bloodlines is crucial.”
