Primrose looked to Maeve with a satisfied expression.
“However,” continued Mal. “Once I return us to the Dread Lands Magic will flourish. We will no longer need such desperate arrangements.”
“And until then?” Pressed Primrose.
“Until then, you will walk by your conscious and I by mine.”
Primrose glared at Maeve over her spectacles. “Not one single Pureblooded woman with that mark on her wrist has fled from her duties. Do not shame those of us who came before you.”
Alphard Mavros.
There are only so few names on the list, Mal had once said.
“Are you not still affectionate for the boy?” Asked Primrose. “Or has that void been occupied by another?”
“Primrose,” warned Ambrose, who had been incredibly restrained for the entire evening so far.
Every head at the dinner table turned towards him. Ambrose’s face was stern.
“I believe you’ve pestered my daughter and our honored guest enough for one night,” his voice danced on casual annoyance.
“Yes,” said Primrose with a sneer. She turned towards Mal. “I hope you do not misinterpret my disappointment in my granddaughter as disdain for you. I am honored to have lived to see the prophecy brought to life.”
She toasted Mal and sipped the rest of her drink in silence. Mal watched her casually for a moment.
Maeve’s mind was looping on one thing: Alphard Mavros.
“And if I asked of you to refrain from your opinions of disappointment?” Questioned Mal.
Primrose swallowed and set her drink back down. “Are you asking as The Dread Prince or as her lover?”
Maeve may as well have been spread on the table naked.
“Enough,” said Ambrose, his voice sounding more like The Premier.
Mal held up a reassuring hand to Ambrose. “It’s alright, sir. I am prepared to answer.”
He was calm, entirely too calm. They all sat rigidly still at the table.
“Let me make something clear, Primrose Rosethorn. If you ever speak of my second again in such a vulgar and disrespectful way I will ensure your right to The Dread Lands is denied. And anyone with your blood as well. Save for for Abraxas, who luckily did not inherit your lack of poise. I will see to it personally that you are abandoned here of Earth, with not a scrap of clothing to your name.”
Magic snapped taunt between them. He was serious.
Primrose’s eyes grew large. Her mouth opened slightly.
Agatha grinned and raised her glass. Abraxas jaw was practically on the floor with glee in his eyes. Ambrose eyed his mother-in-law and Clarissa stared at Ambrose, disdain running through her.
Arianna watched Mal. And Maeve stared at Grandmother Primrose, who was speechless for the first time.?
“You would see Magical bloodlines preserved, huh?” Maeve asked Mal at the Gates of Sinclair Estates, feet away from the magical boundary.
“You are not everyone, Maeve.” He answered quickly, ready for her questioning.
“Did you know?” She asked after a moment.
Mal exhaled. “No.”
Maeve looked away from him. “No.” She repeated.
