Maeve reclined in the sea, genuinely stung by his words.
Ambrose sat behind his desk, one hand rubbing his chin. “You are aware that you did that in front of at least a hundred people?”
Maeve was speechless. Conflicted by the way her father was looking at her and the knowledge that Arianna had deserved it.
“You have nothing to say?”
Maeve looked blankly at her father. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”
Ambrose shifted in his chair.
Maeve continued. “I have lived under her torture for a long time. She has always pushed me when I was down and made it clear she viewed herself as superior to me. And now that she is the one envious of me, she wants to be nasty still. She threw four curses at me before I countered. I blocked every single one too, and I think that only made her madder. Do you remember when her curses brought me to my knees? She isn’t above me anymore and she can’t stand it.”
“She is your sister and my daughter, too.” Ambrose lowered his head and spoke tenderly. “You could show her some compassion.”
Maeve’s mouth fell open. “Compassion? Where was her compassion towards me my entire childhood?”
“Stop dwelling on the past, Maeve!” Ambrose raised his voice. “Can you not see the strides your sister has made toward you? Did you not witness her concern for your safety after Christmas? Her empathy? Newfound as it may be, it is there.”
Maeve chewed the inside of her lip.
“Of course, she is envious of you,” continued Ambrose. “You have the whole world ahead of you, whatever you choose for it, and she does not. You are about to stand at the side of The Dread Descendant- there is no greater honor I could wish you.”
“But that’s not-”
“Whose fault that is remains irrelevant,” interrupted Ambrose. He shook his head, lowering his voice. “If anything, it’s my fault.”
Maeve’s face scrunched. “How’s that?”
Ambrose leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “I told myself, after Atony, I would put an end to it. That no more of my children would suffer at the hands of the Committee. I promised your sister that even, did you know?”
Maeve shook her head.
“Oh, yes,” said Ambrose. “As she sat where you sit just after Atony’s funeral, she sobbed, terrified, of these people that were capable of such a thing. She’s smart. She knew it was no accident. I promised her refuge. When the time came, I fought for her. But there are consequences to going against The Committee and their influence in the Orator’s Office, and I feared there were already too many marks against me. I relented, and they picked Titus for her without a second thought. And the promise I made her was broken. Just a year ago.” Ambrose sighed. “I can’t imagine how cheated she feels to know you are the benefactor of the promise I made to her.”
They sat silently. Finally Maeve said, “I’ll fix it. I’m sorry I embarrassed and disappointed you.”
“You can’t erase it, Maeve,” said Ambrose. “What’s done is done.”
“That’s true,” said Maeve, standing and running her left-hand fingers down her index and middle fingers on the other. “But that doesn’t mean they have to remember it.”
Ambrose’s eyes glittered for a moment.
“Would you like to see it?” Asked Maeve.
Ambrose contemplated what she was saying.
“You’re certain you can do that?”
Maeve smiled. “I’ve already done it.”
They made their way back down to the party, Ambrose at Maeve’s side.
“You’re going to forget the duel between Arianna and me. I can’t help that, and I can’t control one person not forgetting,” said Maeve. “But you’ll remember the rest of our conversation and that we are standing here because of it. Make of that what you will, I suppose.”
Maeve stood in the center of the foyer. Party guests were in the ballroom, singing hall and bar, scattered through the house. She raised her two fingers to her temple and closed her eyes. She extracted the memory of her argument with Arianna from only moments ago. It lingered at the tip of her fingers, swirling around in a silver mass.
“Specifica oblivium,” said Maeve.
