“I know that,” said Maeve sincerely. “But who will stand in opposition to him after his coronation in two night’s time? No one stands in opposition to him now.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Alyicious wandered back into his portrait, smoking his cigar. The same ones Ambrose smoked. Both Maeve and Agatha studied him.
“You know,” started Agatha. “It breaks my heart that Atony won’t continue the Sinclair name. My sweet Alyicious would be so devastated.”
Maeve contemplated her grandmother for a moment as Agatha stared longingly at the portrait of her late husband.
“Did you love him?” Asked Maeve.
Agatha smiled softly. “Oh, yes.”
Maeve leaned toward her earnestly. “I don’t love those men.”
“No,” said Agatha. “And Malachite has all but made it clear to me, if they forced you, those men wouldn’t live to see their wedding day.”
Maeve smiled. Mal’s ring sent a trickle of Magic down her finger tip.
Agatha let out a small sigh. “Here sits my youngest grandchild, master of charms and confounding witches and wizards twice her age, pleading with an old bitty to get her way.”
Maeve chuckled softly at the compliment. “I could never confound you.”
“I will tell The Committee of the Scared that you are not moving forward with Mr. Mavros or Xander. And if they have issue, they can take it up with our new Dread Prince.”
A large sigh of relief escaped Maeve’s lips. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. “I have one more thing to ask Grandmother. Something you must make happen. I cannot ask Mal for it. He won’t understand.”
Agatha raised her brows.
“Convince the Committee of the Sacred that Victoria Deaveros is not going to marry Damario. She will be Alphard’s.”
Agatha eyed her for a moment.
“And the Mavros will not pay for her,” said Maeve. “No more bidding war.”
Chapter 60
Clarissa hosted a charity ball to raise money for the Opulentos Society, for which Maeve had very little care. But Abraxas insisted she attend. The society would be providing major contributions to reestablish a thriving society in The Dread Lands. They had planned restaurants and shops and the restoration of mansions and palaces.
Maeve was seated at the bar in the main hall. Mal was still far off, unreachable, in the Dread Lands. She didn’t expect him to return until the last second before his coronation.
“How did you squirm your way out of it?”
Maeve looked to her right at Arianna, disappointed to hear the disdain return to her sister’s voice, given that they had been on agreeable terms lately.
“I’ve been trying to tell you for a while now. I take what I want.”
“I cannot believe you used magic on our ancient grandmother to get your way!”
Maeve scoffed. “I did nothing of the sort.”
“You lie,” seethed Arianna. “It’s all a lie. I’d love to see you duel without that pretty little ring.”
Maeve’s heart skipped a beat. Arianna wasn’t stupid.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” said Maeve grimly. “I didn’t confound Grandma Agatha, and I don’t appreciate the assumption that I did. And I will gladly kick your ass any day without it.”
Arianna pushed away from the bar, but Maeve was on her heels, unable to let it go.
“Jealous, are we? Jealous that you’re too scared to venture out of the box created to keep you confined?”
