She didn’t, couldn’t, tear her eyes away from his. The only thing that kept her from bursting into tears was his petrifying gaze. The very thing that brought her to tears was the only thing that grounded her. His gaze slipped into something unexpectedly gentle. The game was forgotten as his free hand moved to her stomach.
“Breathe, Maeve,” he said lowly, his tone shifting to something soft.
Her name on his lips sent Magic creeping up her spine. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to point two fingers at him and show him just how infuriating his brief presence in her life had been thus far. Unrelenting and selfish. Taking and never giving.
Abraxas appeared at her other side, his hand finding her free one. “You’re okay, Maeve,” he said, with far too much concern for her lighthearted and pestering cousin.
Her eyes shot to him. Pain erupted across her entire body. Magic gripped at her mind like hundreds of sharpened talons, each one pulling her in a different direction. Calming Magic slid down her arm and across her sternum. Desperate begs were on the tip of her tongue, but as the waves of paralyzing dread passed over her, no words formed.
How could she forget the way he died? She wanted to forget again.
“Her Magic is so unstable I’m afraid it’s going to shatter, Mal,” Astrea’s voice drifted over her.
She was cold. Freezing. Her body shook. She wanted warmth. Another plea that her tongue refused to voice. Fear ran freely through her, sinking its hooks in wherever it could until she felt completely chained.
“Mal?” Abraxas said, confusion in his tone.
“It has to shatter,” he stated, though there was regret in his voice.
No.
NO.
Quakes of terror and uncertainty twisted through her. The only thing she could hear was her own fearful screams.
Fear is the absence of Magic.
Her father’s constant reminder slid across her mind, the words feeling like three gentle squeezes to her hand.
Her Magic flickered. A reminder of its presence. A reminder that though she pressed down on it well, it too had hooks and claws. She, too, had a say.
Whatever spell was on the verge of shattering in her mind, the thing Mal would do anything to break, shewould notlet it. Pride or instinct, she didn’t know what it was that drove her to act, to push back against the chains in her mind. The claws in her Magic wanted to rip and destroy.
How long had it been since she tasted her Magic so fully? It provided the warmth she sought at once, crashing through her like waves of divinity. She drank it all, letting every molecule and every shard of power take root inside her. It nestled into each corner of her existence. Nothing could ever feel so unexplainedly hers but this.
Her mind fell quiet. No chains or claws. No hooks. Just warmth.
Chapter 12
She flew through the halls of Castle Morana, abandoning the unfamiliar bed she woke in, still in her pajamas, uncertain how she even knew where the Dread Prince’s study was in the massive castle. Or how she knew he was there. But she did. Staircase after staircase. Corridor after corridor, until she felt his presence grow stronger with each step towards a large, rounded door.
It slammed open violently with a flick of her wrist.
“Enough of this game,” she cried out. “You win.”
Mal didn’t smile. He looked up from his desk, stacked with books, and met her eyes. “I wasn’t aware we were playing. It’s only you who hasn’t understood the weight of any of this.”
Her eyes burned, tears threatening to loosen at any moment.
Her father. Bleeding. From his eyes, his mouth—
“You took my potions,” she seethed, finally voicing the truth, as if there was any weight to it now. “I want them back now.”
The image of her father in her arms with dead eyes. Dead eyes with blood pouring from them. Lifeless and cold.
Her palms dug deep into her eye sockets as she let out a throaty groan. “Why, why would you show me that?” she exclaimed.
His eyes didn’t deny it as he said, “I needed to see your mind without restraint.”
