“Maeve! Bella!” he cried, waving a half-eaten scone. “I just had the mostbrilliantconversation with the mule. And I do believe Gideon is somewhere in Stonewick.”
I blinked at him, my mind so full of curses and circles and the weight of Stonewick’s future that I nearly laughed in his face. “The mule?”
“Yes, yes!” Twobble bounced on his toes, crumbs flying. “It’s a clever beast, you know. Ears twitch just right, tail swishes like punctuation. You could learn a thing or two from it, Bella.”
My eyes widened as he continued.
“Very articulate. Told me it’s terribly fond of daisies. But here’s the interesting part.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “I think it brought Gideon here.”
Bella groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Twobble—”
“No, listen!” He jabbed his jelly-covered finger toward us. “Think about it. That bramble mule appeared out of nowhere, yes? Right when the students arrived. You don’t think that’s a coincidence, do you? Hah!” He clapped his hands together, food scattering to the floor. “It dragged him from whatever shadowhad dropped him, plopped him right here at the Academy like a gift of evil, waiting to be unwrapped. Brilliant creature, that mule. Really ought to start charging for rides. But we must find him.”
I stared at him as my mind caught on the absurdity and the truth wrapped inside it.
The mule.
As silly as it seemed, as ridiculous as Twobble always was, something in my gut shifted. Could he be right? Could the Wilds have sent the mule to drag Keegan here, to anchor him when the curse could have swallowed him whole?
Bella’s sharp gaze flicked to me. “You don’t actually believe the mule brought him here.”
But I did.
Or at least, part of me wanted to.
Because in a world where the Wilds spoke, where mushrooms bloomed onto fears, where shadows tugged at the heart of everything, why couldn’t a bramble mule have carried Gideon here?
My lips parted, words catching, but before I could speak, Twobble grinned wider. “See? She believes me. Knew you would, Maeve. You’ve got an eye for destiny. Unlike fox-face here.”
Bella growled low in her throat, but I barely heard her. My chest ached with sudden certainty.
If the mule could bring Gideon here when he was ill, then maybe the Wilds weren’t against us. Maybe they were guiding us.
“Not so fast.”
The voice came from behind Twobble, raspy and smug, and before I could blink, Skonk stepped into the corridor with a devilish grin plastered across his face. His boots scuffed the stone floor, his little satchel bouncing against his side as though it carried secrets better left untouched.
Twobble nearly choked on his tongue. “Skonk!”
“Miss me?” Skonk spread his arms wide, mock-innocent. “Do you really think that mule knew to come here by itself? Come on. That’s what goblins are for. We are transportation experts. Think about our tunnels.”
Twobble’s scowl deepened instantly, and the jelly still dotted his chin like angry punctuation.
“You’re saying—” He jabbed a finger in the air. “You sent Gideon here?”
Skonk puffed his chest, his grin sharpening. “That’s right. I heard whispers in the Undersoot, where truth likes to slither before anyone else notices. Word was, Gideon was in trouble. So I popped my head into Shadowick, real stealth-like—” He gave a little bow, hat tipping, “—as I always am. And I’m sorry, Twiblet, I realize not all goblins are as graceful as I am.”
“Graceful?” Twobble sputtered. “You trip over your own shadow half the time!”
“Stylishly,” Skonk countered with a sniff.
I pressed a hand to my temple, fighting the headache that always arrived when the two of them shared air. “Skonk. Focus.”
He winked at me, though his grin faltered just slightly. “Anyway. I found him. Gideon. Not in the fields, not out at some shadow training. He was in a pile down an alley near a dark apothecary shop, like someone had dropped him there andforgotten him. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he threw back one too many, if you know what I mean.” His brows wiggled.
My heart lurched.
“An apothecary?” My voice cracked before I forced it steadier. “Do you think he was poisoned?”