Page 105 of Magical Melee
I followed, glancing around the unique space. Cobblestone pathways led to gardens, and a circular patio made of the same took up the most space where several tables had been arranged.
“Nice little area.” I smiled.
He nodded and kept walking until we found a door behind some crawling vines.
Vines that should have been long dried out for winter.
“One thing about this town is that it protects its own.” His voice lowered, and his eyes settled on mine, sending electricity through me.
There was something so endearing and protective about Keegan. I’d never had that since I was small. I’d looked to my husband for that same sense of loyalty and security, but it never came. But with Keegan…
“If you’re ever in danger, this door will appear. It will recognize your touch and let you in.”
“My touch?”
“Stonewick knows you probably more than you know yourself.”
I sucked in a slow breath. “Okay.”
“What about guests who stay here? What happens when they try to open it?”
His smile widened. “Maeve, they can’t see it.”
The statement hit me hard. I’d seen goblins and talking gargoyles, a sweater float and fold itself, but to hear that I had access to things that weren’t there for nonmagical folks spoke deep.
“I…Wow.” I nodded, keeping my eyes on his. “How did you know I’d be able to see it?”
“Something is happening very quickly, Maeve. I don’t know how to explain it, but this town is accepting you at a speed that I’ve never seen.”
“Is that why you’re willing to show me how to access the gardens again?”
He nodded slowly as I leaned against the brick wall of the building.
“Yes. I have to take my cues from Stonewick.” As he spoke, my coat shifted, revealing a sliver of my stomach.
Keegan’s eyes flicked downward, and his expression suddenly sharpened. Heat darted through his gaze before his eyes met mine.
“What’s that?” His tone was curious and charged with something I didn’t quite recognize.
I followed his gaze, pulling my coat aside to reveal a small birthmark just above my hip.
It was faint, but its shape was unmistakable: a butterfly with its wings vertically coming in for a landing.
“Oh, that,” I said, brushing it off. “It’s just a birthmark. Had it my whole life. I guess my dad had one too on his forearm.”
Keegan’s jaw tightened, and he reached out, hesitating briefly before his fingers lightly traced the mark. A strange warmth spread from the contact, sending a shiver of longing through me.
“That’s not just a birthmark,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something I couldn’t quite place.
“What do you mean?”
He pulled his hand back, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a sigil. A mark of connection.”
“Connection to what?” I pressed.
“To the Academy,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Or, more specifically, to the magic that flows through it. This isn’t a coincidence, Maeve.”
I stared at him, my mind racing. “So you’re saying I’m somehow… linked to the Academy?”
