She turned towards Mal.
“Do you agree, Mal?” Asked Ophelia sweetly.
“It’s lovely, yes,” said Mal with a smile.
Ophelia’s face brightened, and she bit her lip. Maeve’s grip on her knife tightened.
“Back home,” said Ophelia, “zis is all the women wear. Eet is quite fashionable. I see none of zat here. All embroidered collars.”
Maeve was well aware the collar of her dress had embroidery on it. Arianna looked away from Titus and frowned at Ophelia’s comment. Embroidered collars and sleeves and shoes were Arianna’s favorite.
“You’d look lovely in such a style, Maeve,” said Xander.
Maeve looked down at her plate as she felt Xander’s eyes burn into her.
“Oh, pleaze,” said Ophelia with a giggle. “Maeve n’a aucun style.”
Maeve has no sense of style.
Ophelia yelped, and her hand flew to her face as a small incision appeared across her cheek.
“Oh, dear,” said Xander, reaching for his handkerchief and attempting to help Ophelia from across the table.
Eryx’s eyes grew wide for the first time. He looked at Maeve with the smallest hint of approval.
Ophelia’s eyes shot around the room as she avoided Maeve’s gaze.
“It’s alright,” muttered Ophelia as her cheeks flushed. “I - I- must ‘ave hit a branch earlier on ze ‘orse an’ not noticed.”
“Oui,” said Maeve coldly. “C'est ça.”
Shock rang across Ophelia’s face as she realized Maeve spoke French.
Maeve looked across the table at Mal. Who stared back at her emotionlessly. A calming sensation resonated from the ring around her neck, and Maeve relaxed in her chair with a deep breath. Ambrose cleared his throat quietly, and Maeve tilted her head towards him. His whispers were covered by the fuss everyone was making over Ophelia.
“No physical magic?” Asked Ambrose curiously.
Maeve shook her head subtly. “Some Dread Magic is silent and swift.”
Ambrose picked up his brandy with a satisfied look on his face.
And Maeve realized, feeling only the slightest bit of guilt, that the mark on Ophelia’s face would scar. As all Dark Magic did. As all Dread Magic did.
Chapter 52
Arianna and Titus’ wedding was the ‘event of the decade,’ according to Leslie Loxerman. Clarissa and Titus’ mother had thrown quite the party. Every important witch and wizard alive was present, and Mal made sure to impress them all.
The real event of the century was in exactly one month- Mal’s coronation. The beginning of a new age.
Mal slowly danced Maeve around the ballroom while they talked.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better,” said Maeve.
She spent the majority of the morning feeling lightheaded, the compressions in her chest heightened once again. The feeling had come and gone since their travels three months prior. Her father had gotten Irma Mavros to come over and examine her many times, but the skilled healer found nothing out of the ordinary.
Still, she was lightheaded more often that she ever had been. Her breath would turn tight in her chest. And then it would fade. She refused to acknowledge what the High Lord had told her. That there was dark and unwelcome magic in her. She continued to take pain potions and deny any negative symptoms.
