Page 8 of Magical Mayhem
“My cauldron won’t explode if I leave it in the dorm, will it?”
Depends on what you put in it.
“Are there yoga classes for stiff knees?”
Brilliant idea, and there would be shortly.
I murmured reassurances and pointed them toward their dormitories, all while trying not to notice the way the light outside the tall windows flickered strangely.
Shadows caressed the skies, tugging at the edge of the day, and the Wards hummed louder to keep them back.
Keegan.
Was he resting, or was the curse gnawing deeper? His mother had returned, the Silver Wolf, fierce and mysterious, yet his father was nowhere to be seen. Malore stalked the edges of my dreams, broad-shouldered and merciless. And Gideon, always Gideon, waited like a vulture, three steps ahead, mocking me with every move.
“Headmistress!” A cheerful voice broke through my spiral. One of the new students with her wide-brimmed hat spotted me. “This place is more magical than I ever dreamed.”
I laughed, genuinely this time, and reached to squeeze her hand. “You’ll find it never stops giving.”
She giggled and darted off toward the Butterfly Ward with two friends in tow.
Twobble reappeared at my elbow, his arms already stacked with pilfered biscuits. “You’re welcome, by the way. My distraction was a success. You can breathe again. And look, provisions.”
“You’re supposed to hand those out, not steal them from Lady Limora.”
He grinned, sugar dotting his chin. “Distribution is a delicate art. I test for poison first, considering the state we’re in.”
“Likely story, buddy.” I grinned and shook my head.
Lady Limora swept by again, this time setting down pitchers of sparkling lemonade that refilled themselves.
“Thank you,” I whispered again, meaning more than just for the lemonade.
Around me, things blurred into a kaleidoscope of color and sound. Students hugging, old friends reuniting, spells fizzing in nervous hands. A wand snapped, shooting out glitter that rained across the marble floor. Someone sneezed and conjured a bouquet of dandelions by accident. A cluster of women near the staircase compared their planners, debating whether evening meditation would conflict with potion-brewing.
Even for the summer session, it was lively. It was hopeful. It was exactly what the Academy wanted.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the hollow in my chest. Every laugh felt like it might splinter. Every shimmer of magic reminded me of the shadows pressing back harder, waiting for one misstep.
Twobble nudged me, mouth full. “Hey. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look like you’re at a funeral when you’re at a festival.” He waved his hand around. “This is good. This is healing. So whatif the sky’s got more attitude than Stella after midnight? We’ve got tea, cookies, and witches in flower crowns. Nothing evil can compete with that.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m adorable,” he corrected.
A group of students swept past us, their chatter high and bright. Six weeks of classes. Six weeks of learning charms, Hedgecraft, fae lore, and fox shifter tricks. Six weeks to keep them safe while shadows prowled at the gates.
I caught sight of Lady Limora in the distance, her elegant form bending to listen as a student proudly explained the embroidery charms she’d stitched into her satchel. Stella would have loved to be here, but her shop had to stay open for the tourists. Ember glowed faintly from the upper balcony, watchful and quiet. Bella lingered near the greenhouse doors, fox ears twitching, already alert for danger.
And me, Maeve Bellemore, recent divorcee turned accidental headmistress, smiling until my cheeks ached, praying my students didn’t notice the storm gathering overhead.
Twobble tugged my sleeve, his voice lower now, just for me. “We’ll hold the line. Smile big. Pour tea. Pretend we’ve got it all together. Meanwhile, we’ll be sharpening stakes and stuffing Wards with firecrackers.”
My throat tightened. “And if pretending isn’t enough?”
