‘The boy that keeps writing you letters.”
Maeve looked up at her. “Don’t be nosey.”
Zimsy smiled at her. “Please. There isn’t a single thing you do that I don’t know about. I’m magically bound to you and the first time something remotely interesting is happening-”
“Damn,” sighed Maeve with a smile. “I had no idea your life was so boring without me.”
“I’ve had to wait on Arianna while you’ve been at school.”
Maeve grimaced.
“Exactly,” said Zimsy desperately. “Tell me who he is.”
Maeve shook her head.
Zimsy cried out in annoyance and flung her hands up. The sleeves of her pale yellow linen dress flittered up. It was a modest outfit. As all the servants wore.
Maeve’s smile faded.
“What’s that?” Asked Maeve sharply.
Zimsy followed Maeve’s gaze to the backs of her arms. Zimsy’s cheeks flushed.
“Gods be dammed,” said Maeve darkly.
Zimsy pulled her sleeves down hurriedly. But it was too late. Maeve had already seen the marks of punishment on her arms. Deep red and purple lumps of bruising saturated the back on her petite arms.
“Don’t get all worked up,” started Zimsy.
But Maeve held up her hand. Zimsy’s lips pulled into a thin line.
Maeve closed her eyes and steadied the breath of hatred that rose in her chest.
She felt Zimsy moved behind her. Her small fingers laced through Maeve’s hair, beginning a braid.
Maeve opened her eyes and picked back up the book.
“His name is Mal.”
Maeve and Mal wrote back and forth over the winter holiday. Each time Maeve sent a letter, she was immediately eager for Mal’s reply.
The Sinclairs hosted Arianna’s fiancé, Titus’ family, for dinner one evening shortly before Maeve’s return to Vaukore. Titus was as dull as Maeve had imagined him. He worked at the Offices of Magical Orations in the Department of Magical Transportation, ensuring that magical fire and portals were used properly.
“You must see some pretty exciting things then,” said Ambrose.
“Not really,” said Titus dully. “I mostly do paperwork registering new brooms as they get manufactured.”
Maeve gave Arianna a discouraged look, who had given up on her facade of a smile twenty minutes ago.
“Sounds fascinating,” said Maeve.
Titus shoved a piece of meat in his mouth and chewed loudly. “Not really,” he said, shrugging.
He was as bright as he looked. Maeve looked again to Arianna, but her sister would not meet her eye. She stared down at her plate.
Titus’ mother changed the conversation to their wedding, which Maeve’s mother insisted on hosting here at their home. This perked Arianna up slightly.
Ambrose managed to withhold his curiosity about Malachite until the night before Maeve’s journey back to Vaukore.
