“I did, yes.”
“Your father is buried there.”
She nodded. “He is, yes.”
“How did he die?”
Maeve swallowed, grateful he continued to send calming Magic through her, intentional or not. “I wasn’t there. My grandmother was with him. His heart gave out.”
Mal’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Such a strong Magical. A Supreme. The Premier. Taken down by something that plagues Humans.”
Maeve broke their gaze at last and stared straight ahead at his chest. Laughter from a couple near them drifted into her ears.
Malachite spoke softly and gently. “My apologies, Mrs. Mavros.”
She didn’t look back up at him. The song came to a close. They stopped dancing. Light applause filled the room as Maeve prepared to pull away from him and thank him for the dance.
But Malachite’s hold on her remained. She looked up at him. Another song began, and he began moving once more, this time in a much slower waltz. She moved in his arms once more without comment. His interrogation continued.
“Visiting your father’s grave is not why you travel there, though, is it?”
Maeve hesitated. “No. It’s not.”
“So you admit you lied to me?” he asked lowly.
She tensed beneath his grip. “I didn’t know it was to you directly that granted my request, but yes. I lied.”
“What is it you do on Earth, then? No lies this time.”
“I practice Magic I am developing,” she admitted.
His brows raised in a silent command. She continued.
“Memory renewal spells.”
“You are in need of those?”
Maeve didn’t respond right away. She swallowed and glanced across the hall. Watching as her husband and Roswyn were swarmed by younger Bellator, hanging on their every word, honored to stand among the soldiers closest to the Dread Prince. His command rang across her mind: no lies this time. Her voice was soft as she said, “Sometimes I feel like I’ve forgotten large parts of my life. There are memories I have that feel more like stories. Discrepancies in them all. I’d like to develop a way to retrieve lost memories. Humans have memory problems in their older age. There is a woman in America who allows me to try and unlock her lost memories.”
If he felt some emotion from her response, he did not show it. “She is aware you are a Witch?”
She looked back up at him. “Most days, we are meeting for the first time. It is rare if she truly remembers me.”
Malachite looked away from her now, observing his party with casual enjoyment.
“If you require something of the Crown, Mrs. Mavros. You need not lie. There is nothing happening in the seven realms that I don’t know about.”
“Forgive me,” said Maeve. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”
He looked back down at her, satisfied. “While we are being so truthful, I am interested in your memory work. I’d like to discuss it with you in a more private setting. Preferably at your earliest convenience.”
“I’ll have to see if I can squeeze you in between rearranging my library for the hundredth time and picking out new drapes with my grandmother Agatha,” she said dryly.
His head cocked to the side. “You sound rather bored with the golden life I created for you in these lands.”
“You’d be bored too if you never got to pick your own drapes.” Maeve sucked in sharply, realizing just how candidly she was speaking to her crowned Prince. “I’m sorry-”
Malachite smirked down at her. “I can assure you the work I have for you will interest you far more than window fabrics. Though I’m certain your son keeps you the most entertained. He appears to be what? Six now?”
