And that was that. There was a light clapping sound, and then retreating footsteps across the echoing entryway.
“Eves-dropping?”
Maeve shook her head, and remained looking out over the lush gardens at Sinclair Estates. “Doesn’t really count as eves-dropping if I was here first and you held your conversation on the other side of an open door.”
She could feel his smile before she looked at him. He was already dressed for work. All black, which suited his silver streaked dark hair, a high collar and a long black wool blazer. A small circular pin on his breast pocket that indicated his status as Premier.
Ambrose Sinclair oversaw the Magical Militia. Only the Orator, an elected official like her Father, held higher rank in the Magical world.
A world hidden from humans. A world living in secret refuge on Earth.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said, beaming at her.
He leaned casually on the bannister, folding his arms over his chest.
“Don’t say that,” replied Maeve as her cat, Spinel, rubbed against her legs.
Her father was arguably the only thing The Vaukore Academy of Enchantment lacked. Leaving him after such a divine summer was nearly unbearable.
“You’ll probably miss that sunrise more,” he teased.
She tilted her head to this side in disapproval. Ambrose’s smile widened.
“Oh, please, plus jeune serre-livre,” an affectionate name he used for her, “I know you are about to burst.”
“Truthfully,” she looked out over the garden, “yes.”
Ambrose laughed knowingly. “Like father like daughter.”
Maeve smiled, and reached down to pet Spinel. “Perhaps because I’ll be there all by myself for the first time . . . I don’t know. I just feel something. . . Different. A change in the wind. I felt it all summer.”
“A Witches instinct is nearly never wrong.”
Maeve’s brows pulled together.
“At any rate,” said Maeve, “I have to do something about my Alchemy score.”
Ambrose groaned and rolled his eyes. “Still on that?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Not if I was already performing at an Elite level in Charms,” laughed Ambrose.
“I suppose,” agreed Maeve after the nice reminder of her success in her favorite subject. “Still not a Supreme though.”
A moment of silence fell between them. Then Ambrose spoke.
“Neither are most Magicals until they are nearing thirty.”
Maeve ignored his rational and asked:
“Do you really think your men are necessary at the school?”
Ambrose nodded. Just as he had each time she asked him about it since it had been voted on and signed into law.
“Do you think Kietel is truly assisting the humans in warfare?”
Ambrose hesitated. “He might be.”
