Maeve scowled. “Fond?”
“Don’t mistake me. I understand why. You’re suddenly more powerful that ever.” He petted Spinel absentmindedly. “It’s just you used to chastise me for looking up to him.”
Abraxas’ tone was unfamiliar. His normal drawl vanished.
“I suppose I did,” said Maeve looking out the window. “Apologies.”
Abraxas smiled softly.
There was a snapping sound from the foyer as Ambrose popped through the fireplace.
“Come,” he called as he passed the tea room door, clapping his hands together. His boots clicked across the marble tile.
Maeve and Abraxas met him on the balcony. He was suited as the Premier. After quick goodbyes, Maeve and Abraxas were in the snowy foothills of Vaukore Island, looking up at the glowing castle in the distance.
Maeve carried all the books she brought for Mal down to The Dining Hall. She nearly tripped once down the stairs as the heavy stack knocked her off balance.
The Magical Militia had moved inside the castle. No longer were they just stationed on the grounds, but they lined the Grand Entry Way. A pair of them stood stiffly on either side of the stairs on each landing. Four of them were stationed at the dormitory doors.
They ignored all students. Even the Premier’s daughter.
Mal was already seated at the Emerald lined Serpentine House Table.
“Hi,” said Maeve, sliding onto the bench across from him.
His gaze lifted up at her.
“Hi.”
Perhaps it was Maeve’s imagination, but it looked like a breath of relief escaped his lips. And a small smile was being suppressed.
Her imagination. Surely.
“This is everything I thought you’d be interested in reading.” Maeve set down the stack of oversized books. “However, these three on top will probably prove the most useful.”
“Thank you.” Mal peered at her over the stack. “You didn’t search yourself?”
Maeve pursed her lips. “Well, I did. But. . . I think you will have a better chance than me. Like calls to like.”
Mal raised his brows.
“Have you never heard that?”
He shook his head slowly. “Only in that prophecy.”
“My father used to say it all the time,” said Maeve, pulling a plate towards her. “Magic calls to magic. Darkness calls to darkness. Blood calls to blood.”
Mal considered this for a moment. “Like calls to like,” he repeated, his eyes on her.
Maeve’s stomach flipped. She managed to nod and said, “do let me know if you need anything further, though.”
He pushed the stacks of books aside. “I have something for you,” said Mal. “I had an idea for us to communicate more efficiently.”
Mal handed her a rather small piece of parchment. “I have one as well. I’ve bewitched them. Whenever one of us writes the other, the message will appear instantly. Once it has been read, it will disappear.”
Maeve turned the slither of parchment over in her hand and smiled. “That’s quite clever.”
Mal nodded. “Now, I can reach you whenever I need you.”
