Alphard’s brows raised.
“Abraxas says you are likely to return to the front lines of The Elven Lands soon if their capital doesn’t fall.”
Alphard frowned. Maeve hadn’t forgotten how he’d come back the first time he’d been sent off to fight. How distant. How on edge he was.
“You neglected to tell me that,” said Maeve pointedly.
Alphard sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this in front of Maxius.”
“Your son deserves to know if you are heading into war,” she replied. “Even if you don’t think I do.”
Maxius peeled his eyes away from the window and looked up at Alphard at last.
“He’s six.” Alphard’s eyes narrowed slightly at Maeve as he dropped his affectionate hold on Maxius. “The Dread Prince has been away for some time. Until he returns, I have no idea where I’ll be.”
With that, he left them in silence.
After a moment, Maxius’ attention returned to the window where Spinel begged for entry.
Maxius signed,Open, with his small hands.
Maeve raised her brows at Maxius. “Go on,” she said, nodding her head towards the window. Maxius’ lips pulled together. He blinked once, but the window remained closed, despite Spinel’s frantic pawing.
At his initial failure, Maxius looked up at her with frustrated eyes. She felt no Magic radiating from him. Maeve smiled softly. Maxius returned his attention to the window and tried once more.
Nothing.
Maeve’s eyes drifted to the locket that hung around his neck. Thoughts threatened to slip into her mind, thoughts that bordered on reality, but she knew to be false.
Maxius stood in frustration and slammed his fist on the table. The glass shattered with a sharp ring.
Maxius startled and then quickly smiled up at Maeve in triumph. Spinel jumped onto the floor and fussed at them before slinking away to find warmth with Maxius hot on his heels.
Maeve shook her head and muttered, “That’s one way to do it,” as she relented and downed the rest of her daily potion.
Zimsy rounded the corner of the breakfast room, narrowly dodging Spinel and Maxius. She immediately pulled her robe tightly around her with a quick shiver. “It’s freezing in here.”
Maeve breathed a laugh and repaired the broken window with a quick twist of her wrist. “Yes, but at least he’s performing Magic.”
“Oh, good!” she chimed, taking a seat at the table. “What’s this?” she asked, snagging the invitation between two of her delicate fingers.
“A royal invitation,” answered Maeve grimly.
Zimsy read over the elegant square of parchment. “It’s a month away. Gives you plenty of time to fake an illness.”
Maeve laughed. “Brax is too sharp for that.”
“Looks like it’s a rather important event,” said Zimsy, placing the invitation down and pouring herself some tea. “Any idea what they could be announcing?”
“No,” said Maeve. “Maybe they expect the war will be over then.”
“Maybe the Elven Army finally surrendered.”
Maeve knew Zimsy didn’t approve of the war in the Elven Lands. Maeve didn’t concern herself with politics and war, but since Zimsy was passionate about it, she had already decided to agree with her friend.
“How long has it been now?” asked Zimsy.
Maeve’s brows raised.
