Verification for the things she suspected, and the things Mal showed her, hung heavy in her mind. Her father’s death and falling in love with Mal at Sinclair Estates. Maxius’ true childhood, the one she’d hidden more than once now, hit her in blooming waves.
A weight lifted from her chest, one she’d never felt before its absence, only to be replaced by the worst memory of them all: her betrayal. Her abandoning of Mal.
It was her blood that unsealed Shadow. She went to Mount Morte, ignoring Mal’s commands not to. He had tried so hard to protect her, to keep them all safe from Shadow. And she had failed to do the same in return.
Her cheeks became soaked as she kneeled in the Throne Room.
The floor between them may as well have been coated in blood. Her father’s blood. Arman’s blood. The blood she’d willingly and unwillingly spilled for Mal.
“Tears?” Shadow’s voice cut across the silent hall. “You’ll have to do better than that to sway the Dread King. Can’t you feel it radiating from him? How utterly furious he is?”
“Stop it,” she whispered, her gaze down.
“You didn’t just take his son from him,” said Shadow, sitting up in the throne, ignoring her completely. “You brokeallthose sweet promises of companionship, protection. You vowed to fight for him until your last breath!” Shadow’s voice edged on something hysterical. Maeve looked up at her at last. The Shadow Queen frowned deeply and continued.
“Meaningless words,” she muttered. “You live and breathe despite such bold betrayal.”
Maeve shifted her focus to Mal.
It was truly a horrible feeling, not being able to deny such blatant proof that she had broken every word between them. That he’d begged her not to abandon him to the wicked and vile creature that now occupied his throne.
But she did.
That she’d promised on bended knee to be his second, and fight for him.
But she ran.
“The worst part is,” began Shadow, her voice crackling with Magic, “is that if you had told him the truth, he might have understood your reasoning. I hadn’t fully consumed him yet then.” Another bored sigh. “That isn’t the case anymore, of course.” She straightened her back and crossed her legs. “Malachite.”
Mal turned towards her, looking over his shoulder.
“I’ve grown tired of this,” she said, her blue eyes on him.
Maeve’s blue eyes. Those were her eyes.
Something between a laugh and a cry broke from Maeve’s throat as she remembered trading her eyes for Shadow’s pale ones. The white Queen’s scowl landed on Maeve at her outburst.
“What now, Little Viper?” said Shadow, the affectionate name sounding like acid in her voice.
Maeve nodded in understanding, pressing one foot into the floor and slowly standing to her full height.
“First,” she said, swallowing hard. “You’re going to stop calling me that.”
Shadow’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at being given a command.
Maeve inhaled slowly, pulling inward every bit of Magic that occupied her soul, her veins, and her mind, and let it run wild through her. She exhaled, marveling at the expanse of it and the control she maintained.
She was awakened.
She extended her arms, electric energy pulsing across her knuckles, begging to be used. Lightning had shot from her fingertips only moments ago. Rare and destructive Magic that, with each breath, she remembered just how she’d used it in the past.
“You do not command me,” said Shadow.
“Second,” said Maeve, dropping her hands to her side as Shadow’s lips thinned into a tight line. “You are the one who failed. Not me. Though,” she held up two fingers, observing how sharp the potential in them was, “the way I’m feeling right now, I think I’m grateful.”
Shadow scowled.
Maeve looked back up at her. “When you asked for my eyes, I didn’t understand it then. But I do now. You loosened your hold on his mind. That’s why he broke through. There is no deception of Magic that drives him to me. Like calls to like. You loosened your reins on his mind with the pathetic notion he’d truly fall for you.” Maeve shook her head. “Didn’t you?”
