It was a command like many he had given her before. She had never disobeyed him and didn’t intend to start now.
“I will show you,” said Maeve.
He didn’t hesitate to enter her mind. It only took a moment for him to witness the altercation from the previous night. A smirk tugged at his lips as he finished watching the memory unfold.
He withdrew from her mind.
“Very good, Little Viper,” said Mal, his face only inches from her own.
Chapter 54
Maeve knocked on the door to her father’s study. His voice called for her to enter. Maeve sat down in one of the armchairs and waited for her father to finish reading the piece of parchment in front of him. His desk was strewn with books, newspapers, and proposed military legislation in the Double O.
Ambrose looked up at Maeve. Then at the book in her hands from his personal collection. She was researching for any information about the Dread Armor’s whereabouts.
“You found something?” Asked Ambrose, looking back down at his papers.
“He’s a pathokenesis,” said Maeve.
Ambrose looked up at her, loosed a laugh and nodded. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it.”
Maeve nodded. Ambrose’s smiled faded as he realized Maeve’s expression was one of worry.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “He doesn’t know?”
“Oh he knows,” said Maeve. “He just doesn’t. . . know. He is aware of his effect on others. But. . .”
Ambrose’s brows lifted.
Maeve exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if he’s doing it to me.”
Her father nodded in contemplation and looked away. He retreated into his thoughts for a moment before he finally spoke. “And you never will.”
“I’ve considered telling him. And asking him not to manipulate me that way.”
Ambrose looked back at her. “I don’t think there’s any harm in that.”
Maeve’s stomach filled with acid as the adrenaline of penitential confrontation kicked. And just after she had narrowly avoided his disappointment with Alphard.
Ambrose gave her a sympathetic smile and softly said, “If you don’t want him to manipulate your emotions, then make it so Maeve. You need not rely on his word alone.”
“Put up a shield?” She asked with a frown. “I don’t want to have to do that. I’m not even sure it would work.”
Ambrose nodded. “Then you’re back to your original idea.”
Maeve slipped through the study fireplace into Mal’s flat. He was behind his desk, writing with a long, black quill. She crossed towards him and placed the book down in front of him, not bothering to wait for him to finish his writing.
“What’s this?” Asked Mal.
“It’s a book,” she replied plainly.
Mal frowned and looked up at her, annoyed. Maeve smirked.
She slid the green leather-bound book across the desk towards him. “It’s a text about the power of pathokenesis.”
“Pathokenesis?” He asked with a raised brow.
He took the book in his hands and flipped open the front cover.
