Clarissa spat. “Don’t you dare speak about my son and that trash your father lay with in the same sentence.”
Maeve scoffed. She dropped her napkin on the table and stood. She looked to her sister. “I’m sorry, Arianna. I’m sorry for everything.” She meant it. “I’m sorry you lost your father too.”
Arianna’s eyes swelled with tears. “It’s your fault.”
Maeve swallowed and spoke softly. “I know it is.”
She turned on her heel. Clarissa called after her.
“Always ungrateful for everything I have given you. And how will you fare then?” Shot Clarissa. “How will you get by without all the wealth that would be handed down to you if you had stayed in line?”
Maeve didn’t stop. “While you dangle your precious gold above me, I know that when you married my father, the Rosethorns had nothing left. The Sinclair’s money was their saving grace, delivered in exchange for you. You, who had nothing when you married him, dare to lecture me on what you have given me! When it was never yours in the first fucking place.”
“I have grown tired of you.” Spat Clarissa.
Maeve stopped and turned back towards her. “Fuck you.”
“Go and marry your Prince boy then. Your blood is perfect for him.”
Maeve shook her head. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t care about marrying him. I don’t care about losing my inheritance. You can keep your precious blood money.”
She turned once more and walked out of the dining hall.
The house was filled with eerie silence as she made her way to the third floor. She pushed open her bedroom door, and there stood Zimsy, carefully packing all of Maeve’s belongings into a trunk.
“You’re leaving,” said Zimsy quietly.
“Yes.” Maeve strode past her to her vanity, which she found empty. “You already. . . ”
Zimsy nodded. “All of your personal and private things are tucked away. Your favorite books, all your clothes.” She gestured to the trunk.
“You fit it all in there?”
“Extendable charms.”
“Of course,” said Maeve awkwardly.
They stood silently for a moment. Zimsy took a step towards her. Maeve took a step back.
She swallowed hard. “You’re free to go.”
Magic severed between them, like a solid steel bar snapping in two. It felt easy to break the rest of Zimsy’s enslavement curse. Like tugging at a loose bow.
Zimsy shook her head and grabbed her chest, her eyes wide.
“No,” said Zimsy, her voice concerned.
“It’s not a trick,” said Maeve. “If I’m leaving, you should leave too.”
Zimsy’s mouth quivered. “I could come with you-.”
“No,” said Maeve plainly. “Leave. That’s an order, Zimsy.”
Zimsy rubbed her hands together nervously.
“But-”
“No!”
