As promised, a week later, another knock came at her door.
“The High Lord requests your presence at lunch,” said the girl.
She was an Immortal. Maeve looked up at her, where she towered over Maeve, as all Immortals did.
“Tell him to try again next week,” was all she said.
The Immortal raised her brows, but Maeve closed the door without another word.
Sunlight, pure, golden sunlight poured into the room. Maeve groaned and rolled over, attempting to hide under a pillow.
The covers were swiftly drawn back, and the pillow vanished. Maeve sat up and squinted as an older Magical with grey spiraling hair was finishing snapping back the curtains with the palm of her hand. With Dread Magic.
Maeve rubbed her face and sat up at once. Confusion at the audacity of this woman.
“Afternoon, dear,” said the Witch without turning to Maeve.
The woman snapped her fingers, and Maeve’s dressing gown appeared next to her on the bed, and Maeve snatched it up, throwing it around her.
“And you are?” said Maeve with a yawn as she stood from the bed.
“Name’s Gelsey,” said the Witch. “Head of the High Lord’s household.”
Gelsey snapped her fingers, and a duster appeared. She began cleaning each surface of the room.
The bedding behind Maeve snapped new. Clean, fresh sheets appeared from nowhere, smooth and fluffed.
“You don’t have to do that,” said Maeve uncomfortably.
“I do actually,” said Gelsey with a smile, the wrinkles in her face spreading. “It’s my job and it pays quite well.” She laughed.
Maeve stood awkwardly, avoiding looking out those giant windows.
“Besides,” said Gelsey. “You need to get dressed for dinner with the High Lord.”
“I won’t be going to any dinner,” said Maeve.
“Of course you will,” said Gelsey happily. “I laid out fresh clothes for you.”
Gelsey jerked her head towards the closet Maeve had not even entered since her arrival. A fresh set of clothes in the morning and pajamas in the evening had appeared every day on the bed; now she understood that was Gelsey’s doing.
“You know, technically, you should all be calling him a King or something. That title doesn’t make any sense.”
“The High Lord refused the title of King after his father before him,” she stated. “Oh—A few of the members of the house staff would like to place flowers around Maxius. If that would be alright with you?”
Maeve rubbed her eyes, speechless. With a small shake of her head, not understanding, she said. “Why?”
Gelsey twirled her fingers across the tray of barely touched food, and it vanished at once. Maeve’s stomach tightened with something like envy. Gelsey turned towards her.
Something shifted across the old woman’s face. She smiled with a gentle understanding. “Because we adore him.”
Maeve’s mouth opened and then closed as she stammered a response.
“You didn’t think the High Lord kept him all to himself, did you?” she asked with a smile. Without waiting for a reply, she said, “So no to the dinner then?”
Maeve shook her head. Gelsey didn’t argue and merely said she’d send something up. As the old Magical made for the door, Maeve called after her.
“You’re of Dread Magic. And yet, you reside here in Aterna.”
