Maeve looked away. “Yes. He’s helped me a great deal.”
Elgin nodded. “And I believe you are capable of doing the same.”
Maeve smiled. “Thank you. I think I’ll head to bed now.”
“Goodnight, Maeve.”
Maeve stood, turned, and made her way back up the stairs, resigning to go to bed without Spinel.
On the final day of classes before Christmas, and Maeve finished her History of Magicals essay in record time. She sat down at a desk in the common room to write a brief note to attach to the gift she was giving Mal.
Malachite,
Thank you for all your help this term.
I hope you like this token of my appreciation.
Maeve
She rolled the note up and tied the little purple box with a green ribbon. This gift was a last-minute decision on Maeve’s part, prompted by Abraxas mentioning that Mal’s birthday was on the winter solstice on New Years Eve, for which he’d be alone.
“Funny,” Abraxas had said, as he copied her notes from Curses and Their Counters Class, “Yours was the Autumn Equinox. Which you wouldn’t let me celebrate for you this year.”
Maeve had ignored him. She didn’t enjoy celebrating her birthday any year.
She placed the gift in her bag and went down to The Dining Hall.
After having a bite to eat, she made her way across the room to one of the long mahogany tables, where Mal sat.
“Going to Hummingdoor’s party tonight?” Inquired Maeve.
“I am,” said Mal. “I’m a proud member of The Humm Birds.”
Maeve laughed.
“Well, I’m off to pack for the holiday. I wanted to give you this before tonight, even though it’s next week.” Maeve reached into her bag and handed him the small purple box tied up with green string. “Happy Birthday.”
Mal looked dumbfounded. He looked twice from the present and back at her, and then began tugging at the string.
“Oh Heavens, no,” said Maeve. “Don’t open it in front of me. I don’t want to see the look on your face if you hate it. See you tonight.”
Maeve flounced away, leaving Mal looking somewhat confused.
Hummingdoor’s party was, as usual, lavishly decorated. Gold and emerald drapes with sparkling moons hung about the hall. A large table stacked with food, including a giant chocolate fountain, ran along the center of the packed hall.
“You look lovely, Maeve,” said Abraxas, taking her arm. “I do always say silver is your color.”
“Thank you, cousin.” Maeve smiled at him.
“Bet you’re ready to be home.”
“Dying,” corrected Maeve. “Though, this Christmas marks seven years since Antony’s death. . .”
Abraxas stopped walking and looked at her, stunned.
“You. . . you never talk about him.”
Maeve gave him a small smile and looked away.
