She leaned against the large frame of the doorway. Reeve sat, not at his desk, but at a large dining-like table, writing with quick purpose. He kept his attention on his work, but she had no doubt he was aware of her presence.
“Who was she?” asked Maeve softly, her mind lingering on the statue of a goddess-like woman that sat prominently at the entrance to the Celestian Palace.
“Who was who?” he replied without looking up at her.
“Your first love.”
Though he tried not to act caught off guard by her bold questioning, the quill in his hand scratched to a halt, and then quickly resumed.
“The statue. It’s her, is it not?” Maeve asked.
“It’s her,” was all Reeve offered her, an edge in his normally casual tone.
“An Immortal?”
Reeve looked up from the papers sprawled across the large table, but Maeve met his frustration with her soft expression.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked with a forced calm.
She looked around the room, the portraits of Immortal Royalty from hundreds of generations ago staring down at her.
“You know me. Startingly well. You know everything. And I. . .don’t know you. Not really.”
Reeve stared at her, unblinking, his expression one of uncustomary exhaustion.
“This place has so much history, so much of you,” she continued. “I feel left out.” She offered him a small smile, the closest thing he’d get to her saying, “I’m sorry I make you so mad that you turn into a monster.”
He held her gaze for a moment more and then studied the vast space between them. His brows pulled inward, and she felt him tug gently on the bond that ran between them. It jolted her stomach, nearly bringing her to the tips of her toes.
A small sound of acceptance hummed in his throat, as though he, too, could feel its expansion.
“Can I give you a tour of the palace tomorrow?” he asked, his voice still distant and drained. “I’ll answer all your questions with great patience. Patience, I unfortunately lack currently.”
The corner of Maeve’s mouth turned up, only for a moment. She nodded.
As promised, Reeve was in a much better mood when he met her at the entrance to the palace the following day. Their journey to Heims was in just a few days, and Maeve had many questions about that as well. But she swallowed them and prioritized the, realistically, unimportant questions that coursed through her. Reeve had promisedhis honesty, as much as he could, given that some of his secrets were sealed in Magic, in exchange for one veto.
The first, “What was her name?” Maeve asked as together they looked up at the statue of the woman Maeve had assumed was Reeve’s mate. She was sculpted in shining white marble, ensuring her tall and goddess-like figure was preserved forever. A fountain of clear blue water surrounded her, flowing gently.
Behind them, the skies remained darkened despite the early morning hour as Shadow’s reach moved over Aterna day by day. Maeve kept her back to it.
“Leandra” answered Reeve.
“And how old were you when she died?”
“Fifty-five.”
She hadn’t been expecting an answer that reflected a time so long ago for him. She allowed Reeve to guide her through the palace as her questioning continued. He kept his normally long strides short, keeping pace with her.
“And how many have there been since then? Did they get statues?”
Reeve’s eyes sparkled, back to his usual self. “Why? Are you wondering if you’ll get one?”
Maeve chewed the inside of her lip and shook her head. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Does it bother you that many beautiful women have shared my bed, kitten?”
“It wasn’t even a sexual question, you complete ass,” she shot back, but Reeve only grinned.
