He released her right hand. And kept her other arm in his grip as he stepped closer.
“Now,” he said, “as for those girls, no, they will never know what it is like to be born of the Sacred. They will never know the burdens you carry for the perpetuation of Magic. They will never know or feel your fear and conflicted emotions about the life before you as a Sacred Seventeen.”
“And you,” said Maeve, through her teeth, “do you feel my fears and confliction?”
“Every day,” said Mal cooly. “They seep out of you, slither across the table, and pierce into my very blood.”
Maeve’s throat caught as her cheeks began to fill with warmth.
“You wonder every day who it will be on your twenty-second Christmas. Who you will be chained and bound to. There are only so many names on the list.” His dark raven eyes sparkled in the moon light as he spoke with the ease he carried himself with endlessly. “But you don’t want it to happen at all.”
Maeve didn’t realize she was on the verge of tears until warm wet streams saturated her face. Malachite’s eyes moved down to her lips as they quivered. He released her arm.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and fixed her face proudly.
“You do not understand how it feels to be both proud and furious for something you had no say over.”
“Do I not?” Asked Mal, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.
They stared at once another in silence. Of course he did. Maeve knew he did. He may not have been a Sacred Seventeen, but Mal had come from nothing. He was the most powerful student in history and yet he was found in a damp back alley in his dead mother’s arms at only a few hours old. With only his name scribbled on a small piece of parchment his mother clutched in her cold, dead hand. No family or even a scrap of clothing of his own.
“Fair enough,” said Maeve.
“I know what I plan to do. The only question is what you plan to do.”
“I have no intention of letting my life be decided for me,” said Maeve darkly.
It was small, but Maeve could have sworn a smile pulled up at the corner of Mal’s lips.
“I would expect nothing less from a Supreme.”
Chapter 10
Christmas was almost here. Mirror Lake, which sat nestled between the castle and the foothills of the mountains, had frozen solid seemingly overnight, and Maeve was anxious to see her father soon. The East Wing of the castle had a perfect view of the reflecting pool of water. She had received a detailed letter from him about all their plans for the Christmas Holiday, and how he couldn’t wait to see her.
There were only a few exams left to get through, and Maeve wasn’t worried about any of them. However, she was concerned that she hadn’t seen Spinel in a few days, which was uncommon, even for her exceptionally curious cat.
She walked the corridors calling his name early one evening with a bit of meat she had taken from dinner. Around the corner, she came face to face with Roswyn. Maeve gasped as they almost collided, but smoothly moved around him.
He stared at her for a moment.
“What are you doing with that meat?”
“Looking for my cat,” said Maeve indignantly. She had not forgiven Roswyn for their last altercation. “I’d say you owe me an apology, but based on the bruises still lingering on your face, you got what you deserved.”
Roswyn’s temper swelled, and he tried to steady his breathing.
“I must really get under your skin,” laughed Maeve.
“I guess I just don’t understand it,” said Roswyn, his face sour.
Maeve raised her eyebrows, and he continued.
“You weren’t even worthy of being sorted into Serpentine Court, no matter how pure your blood is.”
Maeve’s heart rate began increasing at his comment. She changed the subject.
“You and Emerie having fun?”
