Page 193 of Magical Moonbeam
“Hey,” I said softly, leaving my father’s side and moving toward him. “You okay?”
He gave a single nod. “I’m fine.”
I tilted my head. “You don’t look fine.”
“I’ve looked worse,” he muttered, which was probably true, but still.
I reached for his hand. He flinched. Just a fraction. But I noticed.
My heart stuttered. “Keegan…”
“It’s okay.” But the sharp edge in his voice wasn’t for me. It was for whatever washurtinghim.
That’s when I saw it, how his other hand hovered near his ribs not protectively, but tightly, like he was bracing against something.
I moved closer, lowering my voice. “Talk to me. What is it?”
He hesitated.
“It’s nothing.”
“Keegan,” I said, more firmly now, “you nearly took Gideon apart. You savedeverything.And now you’re shaking like the curse still hasn’t let go of you. Don’t lie.”
He looked away.
And finally,finally, he said, “It hurts.”
“From the battle?” I blinked.
“No,” he admitted. “My side is…there’s something wrong. Since the end of the fight. Since the Moonbeam faded.”
I stepped in front of him, searching his face. “Is that normal? When you shift like that?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve been through battles before. Injuries, yes. Exhaustion, always. But this isn’t that. It’s not healing right. It feels like when the shift is forced upon me and uncontrolled.”
I swallowed, thinking back to him fighting the pain from that last episode. I’d been told it was harder for him to survive each one. “Is it the wound from Gideon?”
He paused. Then said, slowly, “It’s deeper. It feels like it’sunderthe wound. Like something's… caught.”
A chill ran through me. “What kind of pain?”
Keegan took a breath, jaw tight. “Ever since the curse hit, I’ve lived with a dull ache. It became part of the background noise. I got used to it. But this…” He winced as he shifted his weight. “This is sharp. Angry. Like something’sfightingback now.”
Panic fluttered in my chest.
“But it wasn’t like this before the Moonbeam?”
“No,” he said. “It started right after. It reminds me of those episodes that happen every decade or so.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t want to take away from your moment,” he said simply, eyes flicking toward my father. “You deserve joy. You deserve this win.”
I reached up and touched his cheek. “You’re part of this win.”
His hand came up to hold mine against his face. “I didn’t want to make you worry.”
“Well,” I said, voice cracking, “that didn’t work.”
