Page 57 of Magical Mission
I didn’t recognize the tones at first; one was light and a little breathless, the other lower and clipped. However, something about the cadence made me pause.
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Honestly.
I just… didn’t move.
“And he’s really gone now?” the breathless voice asked.
“Yes,” the lower voice replied. “He left to go to the inn.”
“Good.”
A scrape of a chair rattled my insides.
“Tonight, then?” the first voice asked, too eager.
“Yes. But we keep it quiet. If anyone suspects—”
“They won’t. She doesn’t know.”
They were talking aboutme.
My chest tightened.
I moved silently along the edge of the bookshelf, slow and cautious, until I could catch a glimpse through the narrow gap between volumes.
Two women sat at a table tucked between the section on illusion theory and the old tomes of linguistics.
One had long brown curls and a notebook open in front of her. The other had pale hair drawn into a tight braid. Their heads were close together, eyes darting toward the corridor as if they expected someone to appear at any moment.
“It’s risky,” the brunette whispered.
“That’s why it’s brilliant,” the other said, her voice smooth. “No one expects anything right under their nose.”
I froze.
A book sprite zipped by overhead, unaware.
Neither student moved for a breathless beat.
Then the pale-haired one smiled. “By the time anyone figures it out, it’ll be too late, and the problem will be solved.”
I stepped back before they could see me, heart racing.
Whatever they were planning, it wasn’t harmless.
And it wasn’t meant to be discovered.
Chapter Fourteen
I didn’t even remember walking back to my room, but I knew Twobble was right behind me every step of the way.
One moment, I was standing between stacks of books, heart pounding from what I’d just overheard, and the next, I was bursting through my door like a woman on a mission with no idea what I was looking for.
My dad let out a snort from the rug near the fireplace, clearly displeased by my dramatic entrance, so he let out a toot, and I glared at him.
“Can we call it even?” I chuckled and walked over to the latest pile of student admissions, curated by the Academy. It seemed every few hours, new students trickled in, and the Academy knew right where to place them.
Twobble, who had followed me all the way up without asking a single question, hopped up onto the nearby side table and watched me rifle through the papers.
