“The things you showed me last night, are those your memories or something you believe to be false?”
Mal’s bored expression didn’t falter. His breathing didn’t even accelerate. He remained leaning against his knuckles in an infuriatingly handsome way.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said smoothly.
Maeve’s mouth fell open at the bold lie. “Excuse me?”
Mal’s brows lifted, and a small laugh vibrated in his throat. One that sounded like pity. Maeve’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you getting enough sleep?” he asked, his voice casual. Unconcerned. Carefree. “You look. . .flustered.”
She remained standing, despite how he relaxed further into the chair.
“But,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low hum, one that pulled her spine tall, “your Magic is so much more stable than last we met. Any changes in. . .consumption?”
Suddenly very aware that Abraxas’ wide eyes had not peeled away from either of them, she swallowed hard, fixing a forced smile on her face. Mal was challenging her to accuse him in her own home, in front of his Hand.
“I stopped taking my potions,” she decided to say.
Mal’s free hand shot up, silencing Abraxas before he could berate her. “Wonderful. Maybe now you can be of use to me.”
His voice was cold. Distant. But so effortlesslyaddicting.
Maeve smiled bitterly, showing teeth and pressing down on the laugh that wanted to burst forth. Mal grinned, fully satisfied to be under her skin.
“Maxius,” called Mal, never shifting his eyes from Maeve. “Are you done?”
Maeve looked over her shoulder as Maxius slid off the couch and crossed the room towards them with the bit of parchment in his hand.
“I asked him to write down what he knew about his Magic for me,” said Mal, answering her unspoken question.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her fingers brushing through Maxius’ hair as he stepped by her.
Maxius bowed his head and presented Mal with his work. He turned towards Maeve and signed,What I feel in my Magic. He pointed to the parchment, which Mal now read silently.I wrote how it feels when I. . .fail.
Maeve cupped her fingers under his chin. He looked devastatingly like—
Mal’s voice broke her thought, bringing Maxius’ attention back to him.
“That feeling in your chest,” began Mal, pressing a single finger against his own chest, dragging it up across his neck, his lips, his nose, and then settling centered above his brows, “it must travel to your head first.”
Maxius held up a single finger, extending his arm straight out.
“Yes,” said Mal, understanding him. “Then back into the hand.”
Maxius didn’t break their hold.In my head, it hurts, like hitting a wall,he signed and pointed back down at the parchment.
Mal continued to read in silence, his fingers trailing over his lips in thought and bringing heat to Maeve’s cheeks. He nodded and looked back up at Maxius. Then at Maeve.
“No,” she answered, her voice quiet.
“I can help him, Maeve.”
“I will not lower the shields on his mind,” she said, finality in her voice.
“And if your sworn Prince commands you to?” he asked.
If he wanted to play a game, she’d play. “Command away,my Prince.”
