He pulled a small black box from his pocket and ran his fingers over it. “I was hoping you would keep this one as safe as you have my ring.”
He opened the box and ran his fingers over its contents.
Inside was the Dread Locket.
“How did this one go?” Asked Maeve, looking up at him.
He stared at the locket. “Like the others.”
He pulled it from the box and held it in the light, standing and crossing towards her. He sat next to her.
“It’s gorgeous,” said Maeve, staring at the fine detailing. “Even more so now, it’s. . . It’s glowing with Magic.”
“I have a place I want to conceal it in The Dread Lands. But until then. . .” He placed the box on the table and turned to her. “May I?”
She turned her back to him and pulled her hair to the side as he placed the locket around her neck, fastening it. His fingers were cold and sent a quick chill down her back. A wave of deep magic came over her, so strong that she had to breathe deeply to counter it. She gripped the cushion beneath her. Her vision went out of focus, and when it re-entered, she could have sworn the room’s colors seemed different. Her mind swam through a few thoughts she couldn’t quite make out.
The ring didn’t have nearly such a profound an effect as the locket.
She turned back to him and looked down at the locket, which was glistening in the light.
Mal ran his fingers down the chain and grasped the locket. His touch brought heat to her cheeks. He ran his thumb up and down the emerald markings and spoke in his perfect velvety voice.
“Time is strange in those lands. It feels like weeks. I’ve missed you.”
She looked up, and his eyes were already on her.
Mal continued before she could say anything. “How does it feel?”
“It... It feels like you.”
He smirked at her and let go of the locket. “Good.”
His hands moved to her wrists, pulling her with him as he relaxed back on the sofa. Their chests pressed together as she lay atop him. He brushed her hair to the side.
“Tonight you shall wear them,” he whispered, their noses nearly touching. “Do you have your gown?”
“No,” said Maeve with a small smile, thinking about the custom dress. “Grandmother Agatha wouldn’t let me even see it yet.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, his thumb tracing over her cheek. “That won’t do.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see you in it now,” he murmured, his voice smooth and delicious.
And he did.
The sun was barely rising, the sky a pale shade of blue, when they Obscured to his flat. Mal opened the doors to his armoire. And Maeve’s heart soared.
It was every hue of sapphire blue and silver, like an early evening cosmos. Satin and beads and tulle and sparkling fabric draped elegantly across the hanger.
“It’s stunning,” she said.
Mal moved behind her and put his lips close to her ear. “Put it on.”
He left the room. She obeyed.
Moments later she emerged into his sitting area. The sight of him stopped her feet and her breath all at once.
