“No, I think he’s going to fail miserably and bring all of us down with him.”
Maeve’s jaw tightened. “Ah.” She looked to her father. “And there lies the real reason he wanted my spell. Speaking of things failing miserably,” she looked back at Reeve, “good luck casting it right.”
“Now look who is arrogant.”
“I do not hide my arrogance behind the guise of diplomatic alliances and humanitarian generosity. I will be feared for my arrogance.”
Reeve was closer now, towering above her. So close she could see a bright white scar that ran across his neck, surrounded by ink. Those same three necklaces hung from his neck.
Vexkari markings.
“I don’t doubt that,” muttered Reeve.
Maeve turned back towards her father. “So what if the humans start another war? We will be moving from this realm soon.”
“How soon?” He asked gently.
Maeve didn’t have an answer. Ambrose pulled a cigar from his pocket and handed one to Reeve. The tips of them lit instantly.
“You wanted to be in the room, Maeve. You begged me not to be excluded. Now here you are, having the real conversations.”
“So I am to accept the Premier gave away my most prized secret, not that my father did.”
Pain glimmered across his eyes. “Yes.”
Maeve swallowed, and accepted his point, horrible as it was.
“Fine. I can accept that reality. And to answer your question: tomorrow.”
Ambrose’s cigar dipped from his fingers. “What?”
“His coronation won’t be at Vaukore Hall. It will be in the Dread Lands. In just a few short months, he has restored Castle Morana. And then soon the rest of what was once a great city will be ready for our return.”
Ambrose’s eyes were wide with joy. “Incredible.”
Maeve’s throat tightened. “Do not tell Mal what you’ve done. Do not tell him you doubted him,” she spoke directly to Ambrose. “You are the closest thing to a father he has. Do not devastate him in this way.”
Ambrose looked at his daughter with remorse.
“I need a moment alone with my daughter, Reeve.”
The High Lord didn’t argue. He didn’t look at Maeve as he passed by her and left the study.
Maeve and her father sat silently for a moment. Ambrose finished his cigar and then stood. He moved around the desk and pulled one of the armchairs towards her. He sat with their knees almost touching.
She didn’t look at him.
“Maeve,” he said gently, his voice warm and calm.
She looked up at him. His face was content.
“A year ago we sat in this office and I had to beg you to even tell me Malachite’s name. Now here we are, and you are fighting to protect him still.” Ambrose reached forward and held her face in her hands. “You are going to be the most fearsome and dedicated second.” His eyes traveled to her neck and then to her arms. “Do not fear these marks, Maeve. Show the world what you have done to earn your place tomorrow.”
“I worry that he won’t find me beautiful anymore.” The brutally honest words slipped from her before she second guessed them.
Ambrose exhaled. “You will always be beautiful, my darling daughter. He could be blind and I know he’d still choose you. The connection you share goes beyond the physical. Like calls to like.”
She calculated what to say next, but as the person she loved most in the world bore into her, she couldn’t hold a facade.
