Maeve nodded.
“Have you contemplated staying?” He whispered.
Ice trickled down her arm as his fingers reached up, gently holding her wrist in place.
“How would I raid my father’s library for you then?”
Mal inhaled slowly. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“And that’s very important to you, is it not?”
His fingers constricted around her wrist.
“Incredibly.”
“Then I’m afraid I must go.”
His eyes dipped to her lips and back to her gaze. “Shame.”
There was a loud crash as the xylophone was knocked to the ground, and the music abruptly scratched to a halt. The room filled with intoxicated laughter.
Maeve jerked her hand away and avoided Mal’s eyes.
“Looks like it’s time to eat,” said Maeve as most of the party seemed to be making their way across the room to the larger dining table. Maeve and Malachite followed suit and took seats next to one another, and Abraxas took the seat on her other side.
The evening was enjoyable. Without Hummingdoor, the conversation actually flowed nicely. Though, with no one there to regulate the Immortally Brewed Bourbon and Dragon Whiskey intake, the night became boisterous rather quickly.
There was a definitive difference between the table of upper-level students and the table of first years who stared at the others in shock. Lavinia had threatened to start giving out detentions to a few if they continued drinking, though Maeve noticed she seemed quite intoxicated herself. Mal and Maeve were discussing an article from that morning’s paper on Kietel when she heard her name come up in conversation.
“Maeve’s got a dragon skin in her house,” said Abraxas, his cheeks flushed bright pink. “Basement, really.”
“No way,” said Hermes Grandleberri. “I thought they weren’t real!”
Hermes had clearly had too much to drink, but Maeve couldn’t resist commenting.
“How are you even at this party when you don’t realize dragons were and, more importantly, still are, real.”
There was a round of laughter as Herme’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Is there really a dragon skin in your house?” Asked a wide-eyed girl with glasses. Maeve recognized her as a Draconem student, though she wasn’t sure her name.
“Yes,” said Maeve offhandedly. “The skull too.”
“Damn, that’s wicked,” the girl grinned widely. Maeve returned her smile and turned back to Mal to continue their conversation.
“You think just because you’re a Pureblood whose Daddy is the Premier you belong at this table,” spat Randolf Grisham from across the table.
The entire room instantly went silent. The air pulled tight around them.
Maeve looked across the table, certain Grisham’s comment was directed at someone else. But based on the hostile stare she was receiving, she was incorrect.
Maeve’s charming smile didn’t falter as she stared him back down.
“My apologies, Grisham, I didn’t realize I needed to present you with my qualifications when I arrived tonight.” Maeve looked around at the others. “Did anyone else forget? No? Just me then.” An icy quality began seeping into her otherwise delicate voice.
Mal folded his hands in his lap and leaned back joyfully as he watched Grisham’s expression.
“But since you’re so curious,” said Maeve. “I’m at this table tonight because I have performed at an Elite level for years, in multiple subjects. And recently, A Supreme level. I score at the top of the school consistently, and am incredibly dedicated to the execution of magic beyond what we know of its limitations. I’m a Paragon, incredibly well organized and studious, and have written hundreds of unassigned papers over my educational time here at Vaukore simply because I enjoy learning and exploring Magic. I am the youngest witch in history to create a memory charm and, undoubtedly, one of the youngest to create any type of spell, let alone one that quite literally bends the mind. I am the only witch on record in the history of Magic with the ability to jump between minds and I would bet my father’s entire fortune you don’t even come close to that achievement.”
