Abraxas’ pace quickened up the path and he hollered back at her.
“See you!”
Maeve shook her head with a laugh and opted not to ride to the castle, but to take the long walk along the mountain trail instead.
She was almost to the entryway of the castle when a raven swooped down and stretched his leg out towards her. She recognized the silver and black bird instantly. It belonged to her Father.
There was a small scroll of parchment attached to its leg that read:
Dearest Maeve,
I’m so glad to hear your term is going splendidly. Thank you for the invitation for tea in London at your next trip. I can’t wait to see you- so close to your birthday too.
The annual Autumn Gala was wonderful. I do hate that you missed it. Arianna won first place in her age range for duels, with your cousin Ignatius coming in ninth in his.
I also spoke with Daniel Rodriguez, who was quite impressed with your work at the Offices of Magical Oration this summer. He will be visiting again over Christmas. Interesting.
Write me soon,
AS
Maeve walked along the main corridor of the castle absentmindedly.
Of course Arianna won.
It was nauseating really.
Maeve wondered what a duel between Malachite and Ariana would look like at one of those parties. Malachite would, of course win, but she’d like to see it none the less. Maeve pictured Ariana frowning, crying practically, in defeat. Only, it wasn’t Malachite that Maeve pictured defeating her, but herself.
Determination fueled her footsteps as she jogged up the stairs.
She didn’t want to just be good at memory charms, she wanted to be proficient in everything, and there was only one person who could help her achieve that goal.
She found him in their normal spot in the Library, nose deep in writing an essay.
“I want to learn how to fight,” said Maeve in one winded breath.
Malachite didn’t look up at her. He was mouthing the words he was writing, and only when he reached the end of his sentence, and placed a very precise period, did he speak.
“Tomorrow then.”
Without another word Mal dipped his quill and continued writing.
Even though he never looked up from his work, Maeve was certain she saw a hint of satisfaction on his face.
Maeve met Mal the following evening in the dueling hall. Mal received special permission from Professor Larliesl to use it for practice.
“Again,” said Mal coldly.
Maeve pulled herself up and readied herself for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.
She wasn’t ready for him as he knocked her to the floor once more with a blast of pale blue light.
“Again.” He spoke louder this time.
“Malachite-”
“Up.”
