“You’re angry that he let you come to terms with your trauma on your own time, helped you train and practice your Shadow Magic, and waited until you were emotionally stable to tell you that you were his Inheritor?”
“Do I look remotely emotionally stable to you?” snapped Maeve.
Zimsy crossed her legs gracefully as Abraxas entered across the room with Lyrux in his arms. “You look better than I can recall seeing you in quite some time,” she said.
Maeve chewed on her fingernail. “For once, can’t you just side with me instead of being rational?”
Zimsy let out a musical laugh. Maeve smiled behind her hand. It quickly faded as the acid in her stomach made itself known once more. They stood and crossed towards the table at the center of the room.
Lyrux’s face lit up at them. He leaned excitedly towards Zimsy. She held out her arms instantly to accept him, but Abraxas hesitated, anxiety clear across his face. But as his eyes met Zimsy’s, and she nodded serenely at him, her cousin released his son, and Zimsy held him close.
Drystan and Eryx entered shortly after, joining them at the table.
Reeve was the last to settle into his seat next to Maeve. She didn’t look at him as he began speaking. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. You need to evacuate the Dread Lands, save as many as you can, and that includes Malachite.”
Eryx laughed. She wanted to punch him.
Drystan spoke. “The Senshi are still aiding those who are fleeing, but if we can get to the Beryl City and start Portaling large amounts of people—”
“You can’t Portal them,” said Reeve. “They have to be brought over the barrier naturally.”
“Why?” asked Drystan.
Abraxas answered, “Because the air in the Dread Lands is alive, toxic, and ready to strike. A Portal is too risky.”
Drystan didn’t argue. “So we have to get them across the Black Deep?”
Reeve nodded. Drystan nodded in return.
Eryx’s voice was sharp as he said, “You put us all in danger by allowing Malachite on this side of the Barrier now. What point is there? He has fallen.”
Maeve stared at the table, her jaw tight.
Fallen. The word was so heavy on her mind. Mal hadn’t fallen. He’d been shoved.
“There is no one else who can bring Shadow down, Eryx,” said Reeve. “Malachite is the chosen one.”
“You can,” he argued. “You have done it once before.”
“I cannot, and clearly I did not,” replied Reeve, dismissing him.“Maeve will go to Castle Morana,” said Reeve, “and distract Shadow, and retrieve Malachite.”
Eryx’s voice grew sharp as he continued to argue. “You’re truly going to bring him here, Reeve?”
“Maeve is,” he said simply.
“And where will you be?” asked Eryx.
Reeve hesitated.
Then, he said it. “My Inheritor has been chosen. And it’s time.”
Eryx’s face dropped. The room grew eerily still.
Rage coiled up and down Maeve’s arm like a purring cat. Insistent and demanding attention.
It wasn’t fair.
“It’s Maeve, isn’t it?” said Abraxas, without missing a beat.
