“He lives within you,” he muttered.
“If I don’t do this, Brax. We lose him forever. And it doesn’t end with him. Our children. . .”
She couldn’t bear to finish the thought. Abraxas looked like he didn’t want her to. His lips pressed down on Lyrux’s head of silky blonde hair.
“I’ll help you in any way I can.” The conviction in his voice was finally reminiscent of her Brax. “I want nothing more than to bring Shadow down.”
Maeve didn’t know what propelled her to Reeve’s wing of the palace when she left her cousin to rest, only that she was desperate to see his eyes reassure her she wasn’t going to break completely. She didn’t care if it was stupid and shallow to seek comfort from him when she was crying over the loss of another man.
And to lose him in such a devastating way.
Even if it was for no other reason, no other purpose than for the sake of Mal’s dignity—she would restore his honor.
The hallways and turns through the Celestian palace seemed longer than possible. The large arched doors to his wing barely inched closer as her heartbeat kicked faster and faster. Painting after painting blurred by. None of their vivid colors and purposeful brush strokes mattered to her when all else was lost.
But the way Reeve looked at her every day. The sword and the armor. Zimsy. Maxius. He loved that boy. She’d find him next to the crystals encasing him, reading to him or telling him stories. She couldn’t get the image of his Dragon form stalking towards her out of her mind, that power. His kiss. His hands on her hips. He wasotherworldly, and she was far from deserving such grace and protection.
The soft but strong way he spoke to her. His lighthearted humor and arrogance. His warm skin. . .
That is what kept her feet moving.
The double doors flew open before she was even upon them. Reeve stood waiting for her, his face calm, but with anguish glistening across his eyes.
Maeve didn’t care that Eryx and Drystan stood behind him. She didn’t care that she was interrupting their meeting. She didn’t care that Eryx didn’t trust her or Abraxas.
She didn’t care what any of them thought.
She ran towards Reeve, faster now, propelling herself off the floor and into his outstretched arms. She threw her arms around him and buried her head into the crook of his neck and wept.
The sound slammed off the corridor walls, ringing out her sobs.
He pulled her tight against himself, his fingers dancing up and down her spine, until they found her hair. But not even such a familiar gesture could halt Maeve’s sobs.
I have to talk to Mal, Reeve.I have to get him, I have to go get him—
His reply came quickly, his voice soothing.I know.
I know you’ll say it’s too dangerous, and I shouldn’t go—
No, he replied.I only ask that you let me help you.
Maeve lifted her head to look at his face. He reached out and wiped the tear streaking down her flushed cheeks.
I am probably signing my death certificate, she said.
Then put my name beside yours, he replied.It seems I am overdue.
He shifted his hold on her, one strong arm sliding beneath her thighs as her chin rested against his shoulder. He walked them away from Eryx and Drystan, down the stairs and across the palace. They were silent until they reached the tall cathedral-like hall where Maxius lay.
Reeve set her down, and she wiped the residuals of tears from her hot cheeks. His attention was on Maxius with an expression that bordered on sorrow.
“It’s likely you could convince me of nearly anything, Maeve, Shadow Magic aside, and I would reason that I didn’t have a choice,” he began, his voice calm. “But with Maxius, I don’t even need to be coerced. Deceived. I would do anything for him, and I would proudly acknowledge that I chose it. Whatever the cost. Whatever the downfall.”
Reeve sighed, and as the thread of Magic between them grew heavy, she could feel that his incoming words weighed down on him like chains.
“I haven’t been honest with you,” he said, his eyes still on Maxius. “When I know that’s all you’ve wanted from me this whole time, was my honesty at last.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” she said, pushing down on the adrenaline wanting to surge and spike through her, feeling the incoming of something massive. “Magic held your tongue.”
