She picked up her sparking water, toasting Grisham as his cheeks flooded red with anger and left him with a final seething blow.
“And for the record, I am not ‘just a pureblood,’ Grisham. I’m a fucking Sacred Seventeen. And you’ll do well to remember it.”
There were a few chuckles, the loudest being Abraxas’, who applauded.
Mal sat like a chiseled statue next to her; only after a moment passed and regular conversation had resumed did she feel his slender fingers enclose around her own under the table.
Chapter 11
“Good morning!” Chimed Maeve cheerfully as Abraxas slumped into a horse-drawn carriage for the ride down the mountain to the Portal the next morning.
Abraxas grimaced. He grabbed his head and motioned for her to be quiet.
“I can’t imagine why you aren’t feeling well,” said Maeve with no attempt to lower her voice.
A group of students on horseback running by singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs sent Abraxas reeling. He laid down in the seat and dramatically threw his coat over his face.
Maeve was nestled in the corner. Her mind wandered as she attempted to read with her legs propped up on the seat. The carriage was warm and cozy. She was undoubtedly excited to see her father over the holiday, and she had never contemplated staying at school for Christmas before now. As the horses began their leisurely pace across the vast grounds, their hoofs crunching against their snow to the gates of Vaukore she felt conflicted for the first time.
Her thoughts drifted to Mal’s invitation for her to stay. . .and what that might entail.
She had other purposes for going home, though, besides just the holidays. She was dying to hear about Keitl from her father, and she had promised Mal she would bring him as much information as possible regarding his possible heritage.
This gave her enough purpose to put aside her strange and newfound desire to remain at school over the break and focus on the tasks at hand.
Everything was as expected back home. Her father, Ambrose, threw his arms around her the moment he saw her step out of the Portal in London. Maeve had coerced him over many letters to not give her a private escort again.
“Is that a new coat?” He had asked.
“Yes.” Maeve grinned from ear to ear, showing it off. “Velvetina’s.”
“It looks lovely on you,” beamed Ambrose.
Her mother, Clarissa, had given her a polite smile and nod as she and Ambrose entered the foyer of Sinclair Estates. She then immediately began ordering Maeve’s maid Zimsy to put away all her things, and Maeve didn’t see her mother again until dinner.
Her father, of course, wanted to know all about school and how her past few months had been. Ambrose had already arranged for tea in his study so they could properly catch up. Maeve obliged with great joy.
Her father nearly shed a tear when Maeve told him she used two fingers only a few nights ago. His youngest daughter was a Supreme.
Christmas came and went rather quickly. Maeve received quite a few lovely gifts, but her favorite was the dress her Grandmother Agatha sent her. It was a custom-made gown from Persia, silver and gold, and it was absolutely stunning.
“Mother intended for you to wear it to The Rosethorn’s for the Sacred Party,” said Ambrose.
The Sacred Seventeen Party, a time-honored tradition for Maeve’s family, was not only thrown by The Committee of the Sacred but it was held on the twenty- ninth of December, between Christmas and New Year’s day. It was exclusively for the families of the only Pureblood Magicals left and sometimes their honored guests.
The holiday season in general had proved to be a difficult day for the Sinclair family in the wake of Antony Sinclair’s death.
“Of course,” said Maeve, holding the dress against her body and admiring it. “I love it.”
Arianna opened her dress for the Sacred Seventeen party next. Arianna smirked when it was more expensive than Maeve’s. Maeve rolled her eyes.
An hour later, when all the presents were opened, Clarissa didn’t hesitate to begin clearing the room of boxes and bags. Though she herself didn’t lift a finger. She only ordered the Elven servants in the house to do so.
The fire between her and her father danced warm shadows across the room. Maeve slipped off her shoes and pulled her legs onto the lounging chair.
“I want to ask you about Kietel,” she said plainly.
Arianna’s shoulders pulled up, but she didn’t look their way. She was nose deep in a new book.
