Page 109 of Magical Mayhem

Lemonia’s runes drew clean edges around panic and filed it neatly into boxes labeledlater.Stella taught a knotting charmthat turned anxiety into something you could hold and then, when you were ready, untie.

Ember spoke names aloud, a litany of losses and loves that made the air warm enough to remember you were more than your fear. Bella stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled; somewhere, a stray ribbon of wild magic slunk closer like a shy cat and sat, unexpectedly obedient, at her feet.

Keegan watched, and so did I. For a while, we didn’t speak.

When we finally did, it was because the ground gave a small, warning thrum. The Wards signaled movement along their perimeter.

Not a breach. Attention. Somewhere between the orchard and the lane, something passed…too quick to taste, too measured to be a tourist.

Keegan’s nostrils flared, the wolf sharp in the man. He went still. “Smell that?”

I inhaled. Wet rock, rosemary, old iron. Under it: silver and pine and a colder thread, like moonlight cut on glass. It tugged at the edges of memory.

“I do,” I said.

“It isn’t Malore.” He didn’t sound relieved.

“No,” I agreed. “It isn’t.”

He shifted his weight and almost winced. I slid a hand against his back as if smoothing a wrinkle in his cloak, and he let me hold him up for exactly three beats before easing away, pride satisfied that he hadn’t collapsed.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured after a moment, his voice so low that only the space between our shoulders heard it. “About the Academy choosing you.”

I glanced up at him.

“I fought it at first because I didn’t want you hurt,” he admitted, a rueful smile cutting one corner of his mouth.

My brows lifted in surprise.

“Of course I did. I’ve fought everything good as if it were a trap.” His eyes softened. “But the Wards chose. The Academy chose.”

“I’ll try not to get a big head,” I said.

“Do,” he said dryly. “And you’ll float off, and I’ll have to lasso you by the ankle.”

“You’d never catch me.”

He didn’t answer, because we both knew he would.

Footsteps approached that were light, quick, and decisive. Ardetia, her braid a neat line down her back, stopped just inside our circle of quiet.

“The students are steady,” she reported. “Nova says the scrying bowls show choppy water but clear stars. Lemonia has a queue. Stella has a queueanda waiting list, because naturally she does. Ember’s group is singing and crying at once, which I am told is intentional. Bella is allegedly training a wayward ribbon to heel.” Her mouth twitched. “I think we are… oddly all right.”

Oddly, all right. I liked the phrase so much I wanted to embroider it on a pillow.

“Anything along the Wards?” I asked.

She tilted her head, listening inward where fae do when the land hums. “Something brushed them. Not a clawing. A pass. Curious, but not probing.”

“Silver,” Keegan said quietly.

Ardetia’s eyes flicked to him, then to me. She didn’t ask. Wise woman.

“Keep the groups moving,” I said. “Short lessons, little wins. Confidence breeds confidence.”

She inclined her head. “And you?”

“I’ll promenade,” I said breezily, because if you can’t say promenade when the world tilts, what are you even doing. “Smile at the right people, drop three cryptic phrases, look purposeful.”