His eyes bore into hers, a final silent plea to reconsider.
“I’m doing this,” she concluded.
Arguing that Reeve not be there, watching her like a hawk, when she jumped into Shadow’s mind and traversed her memories was futile, and so Maeve didn’t protest.
Piecing together the world around Judyth and Nevian in her memories proved more difficult than observing her lessons at Vaukore. Though the familiar and nostalgic setting distracted Maeve often.
When she pulled herself from Shadow’s memories, she grabbed her ink and quill at once, expelling her thoughts from the lesson.
“Any indication she can feel you in there?” asked Reeve.
“I don’t think so,” said Maeve. “I don't think even she recalls these memories because of how far back I am.”
“It terrifies me when you go in there,” admitted Reeve.
She looked up at him. “Because you think I’m going to become like her?” said Maeve, a little too much heat in her tone.
Reeve held her gaze. “I am not afraid of the darkness inside of you anymore, Maeve. I have seen you withstand its corruption.”
Maeve looked back down at her notes, scribbling away as a burning confession slipped from her lips.
“That’s why you left the first time, isn’t it?” she asked softly. “Not because of my father. Because you were scared to care for someone like me.”
Reeve moved, and the quill vanished from her hand, replaced by his own hand. He waited until she looked up at him to speak.
“Yes,” he answered honestly.
“But you aren’t anymore?” she challenged calmly, aware of the weight of her words.
He shook his head slowly, his voice as sure as a promise. “Not anymore.”
She believed him. Her fingers moved beneath his, gliding across his palm. Reeve’s chest swelled, and his grip tightened fractionally.
“So I can practice on you?” she said, deflecting from the very conversation she started, testing his conviction.
His response surprised her, and judging by the smirk on his face, he knew it would. His fingers brushed over her knuckles, and he withdrew his hand, placing the quill back in her grip. “Anytime.”
It was clear Reeve wasn’t expecting a confession from her and was content to continue their cat-and-mouse game. For that, she was grateful. Coming to terms with her desire for his protection and affection was entirely possible.
She just had to save Mal first.
She had to save Mal.
Chapter 41
The capital city of Aterna was a marvel. Maeve had traveled all over Earth to cities like Paris and New York. They were nothing in comparison to Crystalmore, named for being like the light of dawn, which Maeve had resisted visiting since her arrival in Aterna. The metropolis was alive and warm, despite the winter at its doorstep.
Crystalmore didn’t just house the people of Aterna. It was a diverse city of Elven people, Magicals boasting Dread Magic who were descended from those long ago, and even humans. She questioned why such a place, where Magic roamed freely, had not been her home.
Why had the Sacred Seventeen, her father even, chosen a life in hiding on Earth?
As she watched the lives of strangers buying things, selling things, traveling, eating, and walking, she felt an understanding of Reeve’s sacrifice. Kneeling before Shadow kept Crystalmore untouched.
For now.
She hated picturing the storefronts blown out, crawling with decay, the flower-lined pathway to the university nothing but rubble. Hundreds of thousands of lives uprooted, even destroyed completely.
It was a very possible future if she failed to save Mal.
