Page 73 of Magical Mayhem
“Laugh all you want,” I said under my breath. “You won’t win.”
But my stomach knotted all the same.
When I moved swiftly down the narrow alley, through the Butterfly Ward, and into the Academy’s gates, the shadowsrecoiled slightly, hissing against the barrier, but they didn’t scatter. They were waiting. Watching.
I slipped through the gates and into the courtyard. The familiar hum of the Academy rose to greet me, its magic curling like warm air against cold skin. The relief was short-lived, though, because I knew where I had to go next.
Keegan’s room.
The thought made my heart stutter. He hadn’t looked good when I left him—too pale, too weak, his breath too shallow. And worse, his words still echoed in my ears.He’s too close. Gideon’s too close.
That memory alone nearly sent me running the other way. But I forced myself forward, up the steps and through the quiet halls, until I stood outside his door again.
I pressed my palm against the wood, the warmth of the Wards humming faintly through it.
How could I ask this of him? How could I drag him deeper when he was already drowning?
But I didn’t have a choice.
I knocked softly, barely more than a tap, then pushed the door open.
The room was dim, fire burning low in the hearth. Ardetia was gone, perhaps fetching something, leaving only Keegan propped against his pillows, eyes half-lidded, staring into the embers. He looked worse with his wet hair, pale lips, jaw clenched as though holding off some unseen blow.
My chest clenched at the sight.
His eyes flicked toward me, sharp despite the exhaustion. “Maeve.”
I shut the door behind me, moving to his side. “How are you?”
He let out a breath that was half laugh, half growl. “You already know the answer.”
I sat carefully on the edge of the bed, smoothing the quilt. “You’re right. But I need to ask you something anyway.”
His brow furrowed. “This isn’t about Gideon again, is it?”
The name alone made me wince. “No. Not this time.”
I hesitated, then met his eyes squarely. “It’s about your mother.”
His jaw tightened instantly, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “What about her?”
I steadied my breath. “If she came back to Stonewick, it wasn’t by accident. Malore’s stirring something big, and the clans have to know it. She has to know it. And if there’s even the smallest chance she’s here to fight him, then I need to find her. I need to speak with her.”
Keegan’s eyes darkened, storm breaking under the surface. “You don’t want that.”
“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But it isn’t about want. It’s about what has to be done.”
The shadows outside pressed harder against the windows, rattling faintly in their frames. The fire sputtered as though pushing back against their weight.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “Keegan, you know where she might be.”
He stared at me, his breathing shallow, his silence louder than any storm.
And in the hush, with the shadows clawing at the glass, I realized the next move depended entirely on him.
Keegan’s eyes narrowed. He swallowed, his throat working before the words came, low and grudging.
“I don’t know where she and my father went after Stonewick fell to the curse,” he said finally. His voice cracked, not from weakness but from the weight of memory. “They vanished into the wilderness. I stopped wondering.”
