Judyth’s eyes liquified, glassing over. “No. No. They promised students would be safe from the war.”
Nevian’s hands moved towards her face, tentatively cupping her cheeks. “Please, Judyth,” he begged. “We don’t have much time left together.”
“No,” she argued once more, but didn’t pull away from him. “They said we were accepted here to learn, to assimilate with a new society, a new world—”
Nevian hushed her gently. “We were allowed here to be trained,” he said. “In chains. Like always. Coming here to perfect our Shadow Magic wasn’t an act of graciousness by the Dread King. It was a lie.”
The ground of the arena in Aterna made contact with Maeve’s side, where bruises would surely form along her leg.
Eryx stood above her with a blade pointed at her forehead.
“Dead,” he said plainly, but Maeve hardly heard him.
She pushed up, sitting on the smooth floor, her mind racing. She’d been in Shadow’s mind, observing a memory from long ago. From a time when Shadow studied at Vaukore.
“I need to go,” she said at once, pushing up and sprinting across the arena and into the palace.
Finding Reeve was easy. He appeared before her in just one corner turn, his face a calm look of worry.
“What’s got your heart so quick?”
“I know how I can perfect my Shadow Magic.”
Reeve remained silent and waited for her to continue.
“If I can jump to her mind and view her time at Vaukore in her memories, then I can learn Shadow Magic from her classes and studies there.”
Reeve fell silent. A long silence.
Maeve held her too-hot-to-drink-yet tea in one hand as Reeve came up with all the reasons why her plan was terrible.
“You entering her mind gives her direct access to target yours. Something she is not able to do right now.”
Maeve didn’t reply.
“If she finds out, she may attack us before we can attack her.”
She blew on her tea.
“You don’t even know that all the memories are there. What if they are unstable and you get trapped in her mind somehow?”
“I won’t,” she said.
“How do you know that?”
Maeve sighed gently. “Tell me another way to get this done?”
Reeve’s mouth fell open, and he shook his head.
“There is no other way,” she argued. “This is the way.”
“No, it’s not,” said Reeve, disbelief in his voice. “You don’t need to perfect it. You can perform it just fine right now.”
Maeve frowned at him. “If I am to get inside her head, it will take more than some good-luck jumping.”
“Then we scratch that plan—”
“No,” she snapped, firmly this time.
