Page 170 of Magical Mission
I let him take my arm as Keegan followed a step behind.
Inside, the halls had come fully to life.
Voices, spells, laughter, and the faint scent of charmed toast drifting from the dining hall. Ardetia’s students marched past in lines far too coordinated for their usual chaos, and Nova was barking something about misplaced stars again.
The vampire ladies, Lady Limora, Mara, Opal, and Vivienne, peeled away from us with regal nods, their arms full of thick spellbooks and class scrolls. I caught a glance between Limora and Vivienne as they parted, and it wasn’t just concern anymore.
It was reverence.
“Going to class?” I called after them, my voice still raw.
“Of course,” Opal said brightly, smoothing her braid. “Can’t let the fae keep all the fun for themselves.”
“And don’t you think for a second we won’t pester you with questions at lunch,” Vivienne added, already moving with the others toward the spiral stairs.
Keegan hesitated beside me.
I knew that look.
Duty pulling at him, even as worry rooted him in place.
“You should go,” I said softly. “Your students are probably already getting antsy.”
He gave me a long look. “You’ll be okay?”
I nodded. “Twobble’s got me.”
Twobble puffed his chest. “Like old boots and good gossip. Sturdy and always ready.”
Keegan hesitated, then leaned in close, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You’ll tell me everything?”
“Eventually,” I murmured, touching his hand briefly. “But first… I need to figure out whateverythingis.”
His gaze lingered, then he nodded once and turned, striding down the corridor toward his class.
Twobble waited until Keegan was out of earshot before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, how do you get anything done with that man constantlysmolderingnear you?”
I laughed, the sound catching me off guard.
“I’ve missed you,” I said.
“And I,” he said more gently, “havefeltyou missing.”
He guided me down the corridor toward the kitchen, where warmth radiated from the swinging doors and the scent of vanilla and warm sugar wrapped around us like a welcoming spell.
“I was heading to Stella’s culinary magic class,” he said, still keeping a close eye on me. “We’re working on emotionally reactive pastries today. My soufflé yells insults if you don’t give it a compliment every three minutes.”
“Sounds about right,” I said.
He paused at the door but didn’t let go of my arm.
“But,” he said, “I’ll skip it for you. Because something inside you isbuzzing,and I don’t mean shimmer residue. You saw something on that path. Didn’t you?”
I hesitated.
He waited.
“Not something,” I whispered. “Everything.”
