Page 59 of Magical Mission
“Which is mysweet spot,thank you.” He stood. “It keeps people guessing. They don’t know whether to like me or hate me.”
“Nobody could possibly hate you.” I smiled, looking at my goblin friend.
My dad finally stirred and wandered over, giving me a judgmental once-over before nudging my leg with his forehead.
“I know,” I murmured, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “But we don’t have time to wait and see if this all shakes out on its own.”
Twobble cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat.
“I’ll be back before dessert,” he said proudly. “And if I’m not, assume I’ve been kidnapped and organize a mildly dramatic rescue with at least one battle hymn and the cute goblin from the peninsula.”
“Go forth,” I teased.
He saluted and dashed off, leaving the door swinging behind him.
I sat down hard in my chair with the scroll spread across my desk like a map of the unknown. Dozens of names. Dozens of lives. Each one with magic in their bones, and maybe a secret in their pocket.
The inn dispute wasn’t nothing. The shadows Twobble saw weren’t a coincidence. And hearing two students whisper plans couldn’t be ignored.
And if two people were posing as students, we would figure it out. The Academy depended on it. Our ability to break the curse depended on it.
I pressed my fingers to my temple, fighting off the ache of too many thoughts colliding at once.
There was still time.
Still control.
Still trust.
However, the threads were fraying, and I needed to stitch them before something unraveled too far to be repaired.
Twobble would find these ladies, and we’d get the details. I was sure of it, but first I wanted to check on Keegan and the guest at the inn.
I quickly slipped a jacket on and made my way down the corridor and to the set of doors leading to the expansive grounds, through the Butterfly Ward, and into the narrow alley that would put me in the center of Stonewick.
I tightened my scarf against the late afternoon breeze and started down the winding path toward the town. The sun was dipping low behind the buildings, painting the sky in streaks of gold and lavender, and for a moment, it all looked like something out of a storybook. The air smelled of chimney smoke, mossy earth, and something faintly sweet, probably blueberry tarts cooling in someone’s kitchen window.
Stonewick always looked cozy in the fading light. The village was always welcoming and comforting, but not fragile. This little village held its own secrets and its own truths, but did not need to shout them. It just waited quietly for someone to listen.
I passed Stella’s tea shop, the moss-covered wishing well that whispered if you leaned close enough, and the yarn shop with its crooked shutters.
Everything felt familiar.
And that was part of the ache.
Because it hadn’t beenthatlong since I first arrived in Stonewick. Not really. But it felt like lifetimes had passed since Skye and I had stepped into this town together, both of us wide-eyed and hopeful and a little desperate for change. She wanted a new addition in her family, and I was glad to rid mine of one.
I could still picture it. Skye bundled in her autumn jacket, and her laughter echoed down the lane as we tried to figure out whether we should go into the tea shop. We’d spent hours wandering, talking, and discovering every corner of the village. It had been the first time I felt something in me wake up again. The first time the ache in my chest from my divorce and everything that came before it had loosened even a little.
Skye had made it easier.
And now?
I hadn’t spoken to her properly in weeks.
I’d sent a text for her birthday:Happy birthday, goddess! You’re almost there!, and she’d replied with a string of emojis and the simple, deeply Skye message:Thanks, babe. This kid is kicking me to pieces. I’m ready to be done being pregnant.
That had been two weeks ago.
