Page 102 of Magical Moonbeam
The village he always forbade us from visiting.
His gaze swept the scene, and then, slowly, settled on me.
For a long, aching second, I didn’t move. The voices around me faded. I was no longer the headmistress of a reawakened Academy or a woman preparing to face shadow and spell.
I was just Maeve. The woman who’d once tried to make sense of a marriage that cracked around the edges long before either of us admitted it.
And now, he was here. And my world, already teetering, tilted just a little more.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It took Stella no more than two heartbeats to notice the change in my face.
She leaned closer, her voice slipping beneath the laughter and clinking of silverware. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer.
Not right away.
My eyes were still locked on the figure outside. Alex stood just far enough away to appear uncertain. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, lingering in the edge-space where things went unnoticed until they didn’t.
Stella followed my gaze. Her eyes sharpened, her posture stilling. And then, in a rare moment of blessed restraint, she said nothing.
She didn’t have to.
“I didn’t think…” My voice caught, too soft even for myself.
But Keegan heard it.
He was seated across the table, mid-laugh at something Twobble had just said about Skonk’s glitter-infused laundryspell gone wrong. I felt his attention shift before I even looked at him. His body stilled, his grin faltered. He followed my gaze, and I watched the understanding flicker through him like a slow ember catching flame.
Alex.
I rose slowly, careful not to tip my cider or knock the edge of the bench. My knees felt unsteady, as if the past had tugged the floor an inch further away. Around me, the table was still full of joy.
Ember recounted her favorite kind of toast-hex. Bella tossed a leaf in Ardetia’s hair. Lady Limora raised a toast to eternal cheekbones, but the table might as well have dimmed.
Keegan stood as well.
“I’ll go with you,” he said, quiet but firm.
I shook my head once. “No. I can handle it.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Maeve—”
“I need to do this myself.” I met his eyes and tried to offer a steadiness I didn’t feel. “Thank you, though.”
His jaw flexed. Not out of anger, but something else. Hesitation. Concern. Something I didn’t want to think about.
Behind him, Stella had reached for her tea but never brought it to her lips. She watched me like a hawk in heels, and when I caught her eye again, she gave a single, solemn nod.
Go.
I stepped away from the table, weaving through the crowd of midlife witches and magical misfits who were completely unaware that my heart had just thrown itself sideways in mychest. A candle flickered as I passed, brushing the hem of my coat with a lick of warmth that grounded me, barely.
The air was cooler than I remembered.
He hadn’t moved.
