My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room
They sit like that for the span of a few breaths. Maeve lets them, cradling her son close until he decides that he is ready to move on from here. His next words aren't a complete surprise. Not after her conversation with Sunjata about her son. About his special gift. The magic that flows through his veins and makes up his very soul. Still, the Nightshade hadn't brought it up, wanting to give Edmund the space to do so himself whenever he was ready. Maeve draws back to look at him, brows drawing together as her fingers smooth back unruly curls, jade eyes searching feather gray.
"What is it, petite étoile? What's weighing on your mind?" She could see it in the tension of his slim shoulders, the slight tightness in his jaw, and the pinch to his brow. Of course she already knows, but she asks anyway, letting him broach the subject on his own.
"What is it, petite étoile? What's weighing on your mind?" She could see it in the tension of his slim shoulders, the slight tightness in his jaw, and the pinch to his brow. Of course she already knows, but she asks anyway, letting him broach the subject on his own.
Maeve
