“If you told them to jump, would they?” Asked Mal lowly, no trace of jest in his voice.
“No.” Was all Maeve said. “I am not my father.”
She may have been the Premier’s daughter. But those Magicals answered to Ambrose Sinclair alone.
“That mark on your wrist means something though,” he retorted.
Maeve didn’t look at her wrist. Where three small pointed stars were branded in black ink. Grouped together at the corner of her left wrist. A symbol of her Sinclair blood.
“All it means is that if something happens to me they are in deep shit.”
Mal didn’t laugh.
Chapter 3
In the Great Hall of the castle, The Headmasters of Vaukore stood side by side, in complimentary black and silver velvet robes, stars and swirls of light shooting across the fabric. Headmaster Elgin smiled at the group of huddled new Witches and Wizards who eagerly awaited their Court placement at Vaukore. Headmaster Rowan, who was twenty years her junior, face was unreadable. That was the blank expression he wore most days. His dirty blonde hair swept his shoulders.
A large black iron caldron sat on a stand before them, deep shades of green, violet, and sapphire smoke bubbling over its edge and slinking to the floor of the Great Hall like silk.
The ancient Magic of Vaukore resonated off that holy cauldron, which held too much power over the state of young minds. It’s choice for her Court placements had nearly wrecked her two years ago.
Carved in stone above the Headmasters was Filii Magicae Numquam Soli.
Children of Magic Are Never Alone.
The vow by King Primus that all Magical beings were welcome there, and a modern reminder to students.
Behind the Headmasters were three massive stained glass windows that represented Vaukore and it’s original Courts of King Primus. Each window vaulted upwards, coming together at a sharp point. At the center, a mix of grays and blacks and white depicted the silhouette of the Vaukore castle, surrounded by clouds and a starry night sky. The Three Courts surrounded it. Maeve stared at the stunning emerald and silver stained glass of the far window and the serpent running through it, its fangs proudly poised to kill.
The Court of Serpentine should have been her Court at Vaukore. It had been the home of every single Sinclair Witch and Wizard for centuries, save for Maeve, who was placed in The Court of Volaticus.
The window for Volaticus was made up of sapphire panes scattered to create a burst of light, and on either side, two bright white feathered wings spread mightily open.
Maeve had been devastated when she was placed in Volaticus, and not Serpentine. She glanced over to where Abraxas sat. His emerald tie was hung loosely around his neck. Malachite next to him smirked at something he said. Abraxas practically worshiped Malachite, a fact which Maeve despised.
One by one, the new students reached their shaking, excited and nervous hands into the cauldron. The swirling smoke would designate their placement as it changed to one single color. Some took longer than others. Some barely had to dip a finger in for their results.
Maeve had merely laid a hand on the brim of the cauldron for its decision. Sapphire blue swirls of night cascaded to her feet as panic flooded her skin.
She cried when she was deprived of her place in Serpentine. She cried in secret for weeks actually, terrified of losing her father’s affection. Though, to anyone that knew the brilliant Ambrose Sinclair, they knew he was secretly elated and not at all surprised when his youngest daughter wound up in The Court of Volaticus.
Some Sinclair secrets run old.
A strawberry blonde haired boy’s eyes grew wide as his smoke turned bright violet: The Court of Draconem. He looked up at the amethyst and lavender stained glass window that rose high into the vaulted ceiling. It’s symbol the dragon. The creature had its wings tucked tightly, a long tail snaking around its body and its head held proudly high. At once, it sprung to life in the panes, giving a large flap of its wings and a quick breath of bright violet fire.
The boy’s black tie around his neck turned a deep purple and gold. The lining of his dark blazer and the hemline of his pants now had a dark violet thread line running through them. A Draconem embroidered emblem appeared stitched on his blazer. He gave Rowan and Elgin a respectful nod.
Maeve’s Father, who taught Defensive Magic and Vaukore before his time training the Bellator, the Supremes which made up the Magical Militia and Law, and eventually commanding them, told her that the Cauldron’s magic was not concerned with our worldly labels, but rather with the Magic inside each student that waited patiently to be explored. Magic most freshly eighteen-year-olds were far from aware of.
Ambrose said that thousand of years ago, in the dawn of Magic, the ancient magic of that Cauldron had been used by King Primus himself to place Magicals in the respective places in his kingdom.
After all the new students were placed, dinner was served. The tables filled with overflowing trays of meats and sweets. Tradition stated that the old King’s feast included all of his courts and lasted long into the witching hour. Unfortunately for the students of Vaukore curfew was ten o’clock.
She assisted The Head Girl in guiding the students placed in Volaticus back to their dorm on the east wing of the castle.
“Right,” said Lavinia Robert’s rounding on them. “I’m Head Girl of the whole school.” Her Irish accent was thick and musical. “Maeve is Volaticus Paragon. Which means we’re in charge.” Lavinia held her hands up. “Yes, there is a Head Boy. No, you do not have to listen to him. There are also two other Paragons.” She paused and scrunched her nose. “Only one of them you gotta listen to, but oh well.”
Maeve suppressed a smile and shook her head. Even Lavinia wasn’t immune to Mal’s natural power.
