“We are going to Heims,” said Reeve, and then he looked at Mely. “Well, not you. You’ll stay here.”
“As if I want to go to that ice planet,” she replied, her voice playful despite the fact that her hand moved to her stomach and she exhaled sharply.
“Who is ‘we’ then?” asked Eryx.
Maeve didn’t miss the sharpness in his tone.
“The remaining four of us,” answered Reeve.
“The wolves’ rebellion on Heims is your angle?” asked Drystan with a smile, as though the thought excited him.
“The rebellion grows stronger,” said Reeve with a nod. “But Hiems is just the first step. One that must be made in complete secret.”
“So that’s why I’ll be staying here,” said Mely in a statement, not a question.
“Our favorite spy,” said Drystan.
Mely toasted him with her glass of juice and smiled.
Spy. The word made something swell up in Maeve. It made her feel vulnerable, wondering how often Mely’s unique abilities had aided Reeve in checking on Maeve’s own well-being. Then she nearly laughed audibly. Reeve didn’t need Mely.
He could sense her every emotion, every move, every drop of blood that flowed through her.
Before Reeve could continue expanding upon his plans, however, Eryx spoke again, his voice cutting through the comfortable atmosphere, turning it tense.
“I’m not going anywhere with her,” said Eryx.
Maeve watched him carefully, despite his determination to not look at her. Reeve remained still as he spoke of Maeve. Then he nodded, not in approval, but in acceptance.
“You made it twenty-six seconds,” said Reeve. “Twenty-six seconds when I just told you, two minutes ago, to hold your tongue at this table.”
“Yeah,” said Eryx, his nostrils flaring, “and I should have told you to fuck off one minute ago. Since when am I, your second in command, ordered not to speak my mind?”
Reeve remained casually leaning in his chair, not touching his breakfast. No one touched their breakfast.
“Since your resentment made you forget to speak with consideration,” said Reeve smoothly.
Eryx laughed lowly, the sound threatening, like the noise a desperate and cornered man would make. His hostility, Maeve knew, she deserved. But his anger towards Reeve surprised her.
“Consideration,” repeated Eryx, sounding the word out slowly. “You expect me to offer such a grace to one who has neverconsideredanyone but herself?”
So faint she almost missed it, the crystal ball at her fingertips sparkled.
“Yes.”
Maeve’s brows pulled together. That was the best defense of her Reeve could offer? She swiftly realized waiting on someone else to speak for her had never been a problem before. So why now was her voice buried beneath shame?
Electric energy coiled up her arm, a teasing temptation. She rolled the crystal beneath two fingers, as it thrummed with one single thought: Damn that shame and damn Eryx too.
“You have no idea the things I’ve done to protect the ones I love,” she said carefully, still rolling the crystal between her fingers.
Eryx’s head angled to the side, still not looking at her, as though her very voice ate at his skin. “And I bet she’ll continue to do such things where her Prince is concerned.”
Her fingers stilled, but the Magic crawling up her arm did not.
“King,” said Maeve, hating the ferocity with which she corrected him.
Hating that she corrected him at all, that she felt the need to defend the title Mal ordained himself, while under said title he had done such horrible and dishonorable things. But what she would not feel guilty for, however, was the truth of Eryx’s words. She affirmed them with her next breath.
