The men began examining Antony’s body. The High Lord Reeve placed a hand on Antony’s chest and closed his eyes in prayer.
The sight became nauseating quickly, as it had been quite come time since Maeve examined this memory. She could no longer feel the burning pain throughout her body.
“No,” whispered Maeve. “Get out.”
She felt Mal pull away. She gathered all the strength she had and managed to break free of the loose grip he held on her as the memory slowly faded.
Mal stood silently a few steps away from where she kneeled on the floor, exhausted. She ran her shaking hands over her face.
Maeve pushed off the floor and grabbed her bag without looking at him. She headed for the door, eager to be as far away from him as possible. She took the long way to her dorm in the East Wing, so that if he did come after her, their crossing paths would be unlikely.
A golden riddle in swirly handwriting shot across the ivory doors with a fizzing sound.
If you have it, and you show it to other people, it’s gone. What is it?
“Aren’t you cheeky,” said Maeve.
That is incorrect,appeared in small writing beneath the riddle. It disappeared as Maeve sighed. A book appeared at her feet.
Need a clue?The door wrote.
“No,” said Maeve, annoyed. “It’s a secret.”
The double doors clicked open. Her feet were heavy as she climbed the marble stairs to her room, already tugging at the tie around her neck. Spinel jumped into the bed ahead of her, purring loudly.
It would be easy enough to avoid Mal for the rest of the weekend, but during class might prove more difficult. Though Maeve had a feeling he would give her the distance she deserved.
Chapter 7
Maeve was in a gloomy mood as Hendrix Fawley sprinted downstairs from his dorm , across the Volaticus common room and slammed down a copy of The Daily Divination.
“What?” Asked Maeve as she set her tea aside.
“Look,” said Fawley as he pushed the paper towards her and sat in one of the bright velvet sapphire armchairs. “I looked for you at breakfast but Lavinia said you’ve been eating up here for a week.”
Spinel crept out from under Maeve’s seat and rubbed against Fawley’s legs.
Maeve shot to the edge of her seat with one glance at the headline.
THE DREAD DESCENDENT ALLEGEDLY RETURNS
KEITL CLAIMS TO BE THE PROPHESIED DREAD PRINCE ORATORS OFFICE URGES ALL MAGICALS TO DISREGARD CLAIMS THAT THE FABLED DREAD DESCENDANT RETURNS
She snatched up the article at once.
“Impossible,” she said.
Fawley laughed, a smile wide across his face. “This is insane. Oh, Lavinia also said to give you this.” Fawley handed her a bright pink book.
Maeve flipped over the cover.
“Oh Merlin,” said Maeve tossing the erotic novel onto one of the couches.
She grabbed the newspaper and read over the front page.
KEITL, the rogue German Magical Militia General, has returned to public eye with a jaw dropping declaration: He is the legendary Dread Descendant the Magicals of Earth have waited three hundred years for.
Ambrose Sinclair has repeatedly defended KEITL in his absence, and now the Premier is silent as last. The Pureblood Magical Militia Commander and Elected Official in the Orator’s Office declined to comment this morning.
