“I didn’t expect this to happen,” said Maeve weakly. Then she laughed, almost with a cry. “Especially when I know it will never be anything more.”
Ambrose was quick with a response. He squeezed her hand three times. “It already is something more.” He held Maeve’s hands in his own. “I know that he brings you more excitement than you’ve probably felt in all your life, and I know you are drawn to the same dark magic he is, and I can’t blame you there. It’s in your blood. I have watched you do great things since making his acquaintance. Things I hoped for you even as a just a child. That’s all I can hope you continue to do.” He looked at her tenderly. “There is nothing you weren’t born to do. It is all yours for the taking, Maeve. I pray you take it all.”
Maeve pushed off her chair and threw herself into her father’s arms where he sat, wrapping her arms around him. He held the back of her head and kissed her hair.
“My plus jeune serre-livre,” he murmured. “My littlest bookend.”
Chapter 62
The sun was still down, no where close to breaking the horizon. Maeve couldn’t sleep. The anticipation of Mal’s coronation was heavy. She propped herself on one side and read A Witches Guide to the New World, with Spinel curled tightly at her stomach. Her new favorite read wasn’t enough of a distraction. She read the same lines over and over, her mind drifting to Mal and his crowning.
An unmistakable cold tingle shot down her spine. She sat up with a gasp that sent Spinel running. Her heartbeat kicked loud as a drum in her ears, and her head spun for a moment. She tossed her book and went bolting for the bedroom door. Spinel was still chaotically running about.
She made her way across the landing and began her descent from the third floor. Halfway down the stairs, she came across Trudy, who jumped upon seeing her.
“Oh! You have a visitor, Miss-”
“I know.” Maeve interrupted her without even a glance.
She tried to slow herself as she flew down the main staircase to the foyer. She reached the last few steps.
“Hi,” said Maeve, out of breath.
“Hello, Maeve.”
She sighed with relief and hopped from the stairs, throwing her arms around Mal’s neck. He caught her with both arms wrapped around her waist.
A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Three days and this is how you behave?”
He slid her down to the balls of her feet. She looked up at him.
“Tonight,” she said. “Everything is going to change.”
His eyes traced over her entire face. “Not everything.”
His cheeks were slightly more sunken, or more prominent, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it suited him nicely. He looked like the Prince he was.
“Would you like to sit in the drawing-room?” Offered Maeve, trying to sound calmer, but her heartbeat was pounding even louder now that she was close to him.
He released her waist and nodded once. They stepped across the foyer and Maeve closed the doors to the drawing room behind them.
“How have you been?” Asked Mal as he took a seat.
“Skip the pleasantries, shall we?”
Mal smirked.
She sat across from him. “You did it. I can feel it.”
Mal watched her for a moment. “Does that disappoint you?”
Maeve shook her head. “It amazes me. You are-”
“Perfectly fine,” he said. “As I told you I would be.”
“Perhaps one day I’ll stop doubting you,” she said quietly.
“I doubt it. So,” he leaned forward, “I have something for you.”
