Rowan held up a hand, signaling they weren’t in any trouble for being out at such a late hour. “Only a moment of your time, Maeve, if you’ll allow it.”
“Of course, sir.” Maeve strode off towards Rowan quickly, bidding goodnight to Mal over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of Mal’s face as he turned away. He was irritated by Rowan’s interruption, but he hid it well.
She walked silently alongside Rowan until they reached The Headmaster’s office. The door was password protected behind an ancient and glorious mural of a knight from King Primus’ reign.
“Good Evening, Headmaster Rowan,” said the knight sleepily. “Miss Sinclair.”
“Hello, Sir Kale,” said Maeve sweetly.
The Knight’s eyes widened as though he hadn’t expected her to know his name. He yanked his sword from its sheath and kneeled before her.
Maeve smiled.
Rowan flicked his wrist in the air, and Sir Kale moved to the side. A ways behind him was a door. As she and Rowan walked forward into Sir Kale’s painting, the door came closer and closer until Rowan pulled its handle and held open the door to the Headmaster’s Office and Suites.
Elgin stood in the dark tinted glass window. She looked over his shoulder at Maeve. Maeve anticipated her smile. But it didn’t come.
Rowan gestured for Maeve to have a seat. She sat in an oversized, squishy armchair, eyeing the Headmasters curiously.
“I hope I won’t keep you long, Miss Sinclair.” Elgin’s smile was forced, “though since I know how well you’ll do on your Charms exam in the morning, I don’t feel too guilty.”
Maeve welcomed the compliment. Elgin continued.
“I am, however, sorry for what I, what we, need to ask of you.”
She stared her down from behind her half-moon spectacles. “And ask that it stay between us.”
“What is it? Am I in trouble?” Asked Maeve.
Elgin took a seat behind the large mahogany desk and folded her hands neatly in her lap.
Rowan turned towards them and spoke. “It is we who need a favor from you this time, Miss Sinclair.”
“Of course, sir,” said Maeve politely.
“I am sorry to keep you from a good night’s sleep, for this may take some time.”
Rowan pulled a vial swirling with silver and black fog from the pocket of his robes. Maeve knew instantly what it contained. She leaned forward in the armchair as her eyes grew large. He moved away from the large stained glass window and crossed to her.
“What am I looking for?” She asked. “You think it’s a lie?”
Elgin spoke now after a quick glance to Rowan. “The memory is truthful.”
They were silent for a moment. Rowan wouldn’t meet Elgin’s gaze.
“Who’s memory is this?” Asked Maeve.
They remained silent.
Maeve tensed. “Whose is it?”
Rowan started. “It belongs to-”
“Rowan,” snapped Elgin, “I think we’re making a mistake.”
“She has a right to know whose mind she is about to enter.”
He stepped towards her, but Maeve threw up her hand. “Stop.” She sunk back into her seat. She wasn’t there to verify a memory.
