“Did you arrive in a private portal?”
Maeve looked up from her book. “What?”
“Everyone says you walked through your own portal with Uncle Ambrose.”
“So what?”
“I had to come in with everyone else!”
Maeve returned to her reading. “You poor thing.”
Abraxas Rosethorn snatched the book from view and tossed it onto the side table. Maeve frowned up at her cousin. His bright blonde hair styled neatly back, his emerald lined black blazer and pants pressed with perfect seams. Abraxas had a pale boyish face, bright blue eyes, like all the Rosethorn’s, and the confidence of someone far beyond his years.
Spinel stretched in his sleep in her lap, curling his paws tightly across his face.
“We’ve been back not two hours and you’re huddled in the corner of the library reading.”
“I’ve already unpacked,” said Maeve. “And I’m not huddled. This just happens to be favorite armchair. Had to claim it early.”
The Library at Vaukore was nearly a third of the castle. It held ancient knowledge from the all Seven Realms, thousands of years before Magicals fled to Earth.
It was built like most of the castle, grey stone and mahogany wood, belonging once to King Primus, the long dead ruler of all Magic. Before the lines were broken. Before Dread Magic was at war with Shadow Magic. Before the Aterna lost their Magic all together.
Abraxas flipped open the book. “Is this Shakespeare? This looks terribly boring.”
“What do you want, Brax?” Maeve whined.
“Just thought I’d say hello,” said Abraxas, grinning.
“No you didn’t,” said Maeve.
Abraxas shrugged. “Perhaps I came to tell you that you should be writing detentions for a few first years in the lavatory, Miss Hall Monitor.”
Maeve looked up, annoyed.
“Why, what are they doing? And don’t call me that,” she said, but Abraxas was slipping away with her book in hand.
She didn’t protest. She had read it many times. And she knew secretly he’d enjoy the contents.
“You’ll just have to see,” laughed Abraxas.
“Fine,” she sighed, and set Spinel aside. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Abraxas stopped and gave her a guilty look.
“What?” She scoffed. “Too busy with your chums to sit with me?
“I saw you all summer,” he protested.
Maeve waved him off without another word.
She threw on her blazer and straightened the deep sapphire satin bow hanging down her blouse. She made her way down the fourth floor hall, checking each empty classroom for trouble. The lavatories were empty by the time she arrived. She rounded the corner of the trophy room-
“Slacking off, Sinclair.”
Maeve back stepped as Malachite rounded the corner.
He placed his hands behind his back and examined her. His slender and tall frame was statuesque in the shadowed light from the candelabras.
