Ambrose sensed it, and gave her a soft reproachful look. “I mean our failure three hundred years ago. My forefather’s failure to defeat the darkness that drove us here.”
Maeve nodded, eager to shift topics. “One more thing Daddy. Zimsy.”
He sighed. But not in frustration at her.
“I know.” He said.
Maeve waited a moment before she spoke. “Do you?”
Ambrose bowed his head. “I don’t have a say, Maeve.’
“This is your household,” she fired back.
“And Zimsy and the other Elven servants came from the Rosethorn’s with your Mother. Do not forget the Sinclair’s never held a slave.”
Something slimy trailed down her arms at the word.
“Don’t call her that,” said Maeve slowly, her voice laced with ice.
Ambrose’s eyes softened. He stood and moved towards her. He cupped her face between his hands. He spoke warmly. “My darling daughter. I’m sorry.”
When he released her, her head fell back against the leather armchair. “After my twenty-second. When I leave this household. Does she come with me?”
“Her enslavement curse lies with your Mother.”
Maeve nodded. That was all she needed to know. So she made her way to bed after she stood and kissed her father’s cheek.
The Sinclair house was dark and quiet. Once she was inside her room, the candelabra on her desk was shining down on a letter from Mal. She opened it at once.
Maeve,
I suppose the more significant question would be, how many wizards and witches feel the same? While the reality is we hold much smaller numbers, what we lack in size we make up for in strength. That is, to say, we are superior to the rest in every way imaginable, regardless of their population size.
Keitl’s grasp at power, true or not presents a entirely new set of obstacles for us. His intentions of dominance over the human world causes me to believe he isn’t fighting for Magicals. Rather he is fighting for his own glory.
But he is going about it all wrong, of course. He’s too concerned with the allusion of power and not power itself. He wants the glory but is unwilling to make sacrifices to achieve his ‘greater good,’ as he calls it.
Why doesn’t he go directly for the government himself? The Orator’s Office? I think he’s bound to fail because of this. If his destiny is to reestablish the old order of Magic, why isn’t he?
And to address your other question, yes, evolutionarily, even half- bloods like myself would cease to exist. The Dread Lands, our home lands, aren’t sustainable for human life.
M
Maeve folded up the letter and stowed it away in her ivory leather bag. Knowing she would see him the next day, Maeve didn’t reply.
She curled up under her dark blue velvet canopy bed, which had its ceiling enchanted to span over various stars and constellations. They twinkled faintly as Maeve reflected over Mal’s words, eager to bring him the the first step in his journey to the past.
Chapter 13
“Was it absolutely necessary for you to go telling all of my business to Alphard?” Maeve asked Abraxas in the tearoom at Sinclair estates early the next morning. Ambrose was Portalling them to Vaukore. Abraxas insisted on being included.
Abraxas rolled his eyes and leaned back in the armchair. “No, but it was fun to watch him get all worked up.”
“Oh, shut up. Alphard adores Malachite like the rest of you pricks.”
Spinel jumped into Abraxas’ lap as Maeve took a seat opposite him.
“It’s interesting to have watched you grow fond of Mal.”
