Arianna’s eyes widened.
Maeve nodded. “Vexkari.”
“Do you think Father intended to tell us?” asked Arianna, the question directed at Antony.
Antony ran his hand through his hair. He leaned back and shook his head. “I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“He didn’t know this war was coming,” said Arianna. “Or he would have equipped us with the knowledge that our protection was quite literally at our fingertips. Right?”
Reeve’s hand took Maeve’s smoothly, holding up her two striking fingers. “So if I put one on, I can produce some of that lightning that so easily slips from your fingers, can’t I?”
Maeve glared at him, annoyed that it was simply a powerful object of the Dread Armor that granted her such abilities.
“Don’t pout,” said Reeve with a small laugh, “it’s still incredible to be able to wield the power of something like this at all.”
Antony laughed. “And here I thought I was special.”
Alphard barked a laugh. “Oh Primus! That Sacred party where you got so mad at Kensing for beating you in the duels, the curtains in Mr. Iantrose’s smoking room exploded. Everyone accused the old man of drunkenly starting the fire, but it was you! I knew it was you.”
“It just sort of burst from me,” said Antony apologetically.
Arianna looked down at the stones, lost in thought.
“They need to become one again,” she said. “To give you a fighting chance.”
“It’s safer they remain in parts,” chimed Abraxas. “Keeping it in parts is harder for Shadow to get her claws on. If the three of you can harness the power of these stones, I have no doubt shecould. And she’s been searching for this object herself and through Mal.”
“But Maeve should still take all three of them,” said Arianna.
“I don’t disagree,” said Reeve, “But you all have a part to play tomorrow.”
“I’d feel better if they remained in your possession, and if you needed them, they’d be at your disposal.”
“You are the one about to look Shadow in the eye,” argued Antony. “You’ll take all three.”
Arianna nodded.
“See,” said Antony, “you’re outvoted.”
“How nostalgic,” said Maeve coolly.
Reeve’s attention turned to the doorway, where Drystan and Mely appeared.
“Mely,” said Reeve, his voice flooding with concern.
And rightfully so. She was corpse-like in appearance. Her skin was sallow, and her eyes were darkened by her flooded pupils. Drystan held her up with ease, despite his small frame.
She looked to be on the brink of death.
A hollowing feeling prickled across Maeve’s skin.
She wasn’t the one on the brink of death.
“Mal,” whispered Maeve, as Mely’s half-lidded eyes landed on her.
With just a few words, Mely solidified Maeve’s claim:
“He is near his end.”
