No. She couldn’t be back there. She tried to move, frozen in place.
Mal’s bed came into focus, and it was occupied.
Shadow pulled her long white hair to the side, exposing her breasts. She tossed her head back in pleasure as Mal lay beneath her. His hands gripped her hips, pulling and pushing her in a steady rhythm.
A sick and draining feeling dripped through her at the sight.
Shadow’s blue eyes appeared almost black in the dim light. A serpent’s tongue slipped from her mouth, long and unnatural. She arched her back, leaning towards Mal’s face as she continued to ride him. The tongue slid across his neck, his jaw, his lips—
Maeve’s body moved at once, but the North Tower at Castle Morana disappeared, her gaze now fixed on the muraled ceiling above her bed in the Celestian Palace. Chills covered her arms and legs as she gripped the sheets beneath her. Her stomach threatened to empty itself with every replay of what she had seen.
Not a nightmare. No. That was real. If he could speak into her mind from such a distance, then she supposed he and Shadow could torture her further. But she had the strangest inclination she couldn’t quite explain, the feeling that neither Shadow nor Mal had been aware she was watching.
She kicked the covers off and pushed out of the bed, quickly pushing her hair from her face and discarding her nightgown as she walked to the ensuite bathroom. She turned the golden knobs of the sink with haste and splashed her face with cold water, letting it dripdown her bare chest. She placed a cold, wet hand on the back of her neck and gripped the edge of the sink with the other.
Maeve let out a jagged breath.Whyhad she seen that, of all things? Her stomach rolled at the thought of his hands on another. Of his body being used without his consent.
That horrible creature. . .
She let go of the sink and lay down on the cool tiles, letting the cold lower her body temperature. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, just as the past few nights had been sleepless. The intimate moment she witnessed played on repeat in her mind.
Breakfasts, and lunches, and dinners with Reeve blurred. She lost count of how many mundane meals they shared, Meals where she hated the taste of food and ate just enough that he wouldn’t comment on it. He never told her much of the moves he was making, but she still refused to help him stoke the fires of rebellion on Heims.
Sleep was rare. The more she watched Shadow and Mal together in her mind, the further from a rebel she felt.
“I’ve been seeing them when I sleep,” said Maeve, pushing around part of her meal. “They’re not dreams, though.”
“What are they?”
“I guess. . .visions. But not like the future. It’s like I’m somewhere else in my mind, watching, but I can’t move. I’ve had them before. I saw. . .”
“What?” he pressed.
It was a long time ago, but she’d seen it somehow.
Maeve didn’t look at him. “You on the battlefield. With Shadow.”
Reeve didn’t dwell on the comment. “What have you seen most recently?”
“I see them fucking,” she admitted, the words tasting like filth in her mouth. “I watch that gaunt, slimy woman begging for his heir inside her.” Maeve stabbed the meat on her plate with enough force to rattle the table. “It makes me want to vomit.”
Reeve’s face faltered, and the color in his eyes drained slightly. “She wants to bear his children?”
“Yes,” said Maeve. “Not incredibly enjoyable to see.”
He was silent for a moment, then spoke after a long exhale.
“Do you know what happened to Mal’s ancestors? Orion the Dread and all his children?”
Maeve shook her head.
“She absorbed their Dread Magic.”
Maeve’s grip on her knife and fork slid loose.
“Just as she’s doing to Malachite. Just as she will do to the children he may give her.”
She really would be sick at any moment. She was speechless. Completely speechless. Reeve ran his tattooed fingers over his face and closed his eyes. Only after a moment did Maeve offer a small piece of information back to Reeve.
