Page 114 of Magical Mayhem
“And I honestly love it, but you need to rest,” I said softly. “Because tomorrow…”
“Tomorrow,” he agreed, “we find out what Stonewick took.”
“And why,” I said.
A silence fell over our end of the table. I had the absurd urge to make a joke to break it, but the truth coming from Keegan deserved to be honored.
At the far end of the hall, Nova reappeared, her staff angled low. She spoke to Ardetia, who nodded and slipped out. Bella caught my eye and mimed a question. I nodded, and she relaxed, tail flicking in an echo that probably charmed two kitchen sprites and a plate of rolls.
“Do you remember,” Keegan said suddenly, voice soft as thread, “the day you told me the Academy chose me too? That first week when we opened the doors and I kept insisting I’d rather sleep at my place than inside these humming walls.”
“Not quite how I remember it, but go on.”
He ignored me, which is his love language. “You said that if a place asks for you, maybe it’s because it intends to give something back. That isn’t true for me yet. But it was true for you. And I think… I think even if Stonewick took it, it can give back. If it’s asked properly.”
“Not with demands,” I said. “With making room.”
“With making room,” he echoed.
“Unity.”
We ate, because sometimes you can only say a thing once without breaking it, without lessening it.
Students peeled away in pairs and trios for evening lessons to prepare for what might be ahead. “Maeve.” Keegan’s tone changed to low and wary. “Look.”
I followed his gaze to the far wall, where the portraits of past headmistresses hung in a row. The oil faces usually kept their opinions to themselves, but tonight they’d tilted.
Each one angled subtly toward the same spot over the doors, toward the carved lintel where our crest, ash leaf, fox tail, and star, was etched.
The crest pulsed. Once.
My breath faltered.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered.
“Yes,” Keegan said, but underneath the yes waswolf.
The hair on my arms lifted.
Nova’s head snapped toward us, green eyes bright. Even across the hall, I could hear the two words she didn’t speak.
Be ready.
The crest pulsed again delicately. It wasn’t a warning but a greeting.
The kitchen sprites stilled midair. The students fell into a hush that wasn’t fear this time, but one of expectant anticipation.
The door at the back of the hall didn’t open.
Thespacearound it did.
Air thinned, bent, cooled, if that were such a thing.
Keegan’s fingers found mine under the table, and I gripped back hard enough to anchor both of us.
“Maeve,” he breathed, not my name so much as a prayer.
I didn’t answer. My throat had forgotten how.
