Page 43 of Magical Moonbeam
Elegant as ever, her pale gown catching the light like spun frost, her dark hair pinned high with gemstone clasps. Her expression was unreadable, her presence like a rush of winter wind into the warm little world Keegan and I had built in the last few moments.
She didn’t wait to be invited.
She stepped inside with a grace that made me instantly feel like my boots were too scuffed and my hair too windblown.
“Headmistress,” she said with a slight nod. “We need to talk.”
Keegan stepped beside me, jaw tight again, and I didn’t miss the way Lady Limora’s eyes flicked between us.
I straightened my spine and pushed all the fluttery nonsense from my mind.
“Yes,” I said, voice steady. “I believe we do.”
And whatever came next… the moment was over.
For now.
Lady Limora swept into the room like moonlight incarnate, her silken cloak trailing behind her as though the air bent in deference to her presence. The door clicked shut behind her without a sound. I didn’t recall her touching it.
Keegan stood a little straighter, and I instinctively tucked a few rebellious strands of hair behind my ear, as if that would somehow make me less rumpled in her luminous presence.
Vampires did that to a person.
She turned to me with eyes the color of snow-dusted quartz. “We’ve determined when Moonbeam’s Eve will fall.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a declaration.
Keegan and I exchanged a glance.
I blinked. “You… what?”
“Nova mentioned narrowing it down,” she continued, already gliding across the room with the grace of someone who had long ago stopped bothering to pretend she wasn’t extraordinary. “So I consulted with my sisters.”
“Your… sisters?” I echoed, dazed.
“Mara. Vivienne. Opal,” she said, almost fondly. “They’re like blood. Anyway, we spoke with the moon.”
I’d always known there was a strong kinship, and they always looked to have a twinkle in their eyes, dressed impeccably, and always sipped from delicately veiled tumblers in the garden or standing in shadowed alcoves discussing candlelit theory, but I’d never imagined them… moon-speaking.
But they did hang out in the garden at night a lot.
Limora turned toward the hearth, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames. “We called to the moon last night as we used to do, long ago. She answered.”
I blinked again. “Youspoketo the moon?”
“She’s very accommodating,” Lady Limora said lightly. “If you’re polite. And we bring decent wine for us, not her.”
Keegan let out a soft, barely-contained sound that might’ve been a laugh or a prayer for patience.
“You spoke to themoon,” I repeated, still trying to find the proper shelf in my brain to put that on.
“She prefers being asked questions rather than commanded,” Limora said. “It’s why most witches receive fog instead of answers. But Nova was correct. The pattern shifts slightly each generation, a celestial tremble. My sisters and I accounted for the drift and recited the silver psalm.”
“The what now?” I asked.
“Later,” she said. “For now, what matters is this. Moonbeam’s Eve falls inthree nights.”
Everything inside me went still.
