Page 71 of Magical Mayhem

I pressed my palms against the bedpost until my knuckles went white. I couldn’t keep circling this problem. I couldn’t keep juggling my loyalty to Keegan, my dread of Gideon, my fear of the curse, the students, the Wards, the whole fragile mess of Stonewick.

Something had to break.

Something had to change.

And then, in a rush so sudden I nearly swayed, it hit me.

The thought snapped into place with terrifying clarity. My breath caught, and my chest ached with the force of it.

For the first time in days, the noise quieted. The clamor of voices, the push and pull of fear and duty, the endless spiral of what-ifs, finally silenced.

I knew what I had to do.

I didn’t look at Nova, or Stella, or Bella, or Skonk. I didn’t look at Gideon’s shadow-marked face. I didn’t let myself think of Keegan’s fevered eyes or the weight of his plea.

I simply straightened, smoothed my shaking hands against my cloak, and tucked the revelation deep in my chest where no one else could see it yet.

The shadows hissed outside, as though they knew I’d found something they hadn’t planned for.

Let them wait.

Because the next move was mine.

I shifted back from the bed, Gideon’s restless form pulling at me like a magnet I refused to touch. The others were still absorbed in the moment, with Stella fussing at her shawl as though she’d wrangled the shadows into obedience herself.

Bella muttered fox-quiet chants under her breath, and Skonk balanced his ridiculous frying pan across his knees like it was holy weaponry.

Nova, though. Nova noticed.

Her green eyes followed me as I straightened my cloak. Her staff leaned lazily at her side, though nothing about her was ever lazy. She tilted her head, studying me in that way she had.

“What changed, Hedge Witch?” she asked softly.

My throat tightened. The truth rose, hot and dangerous, but I swallowed it back. If I were to say it out loud, if I were to give it shape, it would no longer belong just to me. And I couldn’t risk that. Not yet.

“Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Maeve,” Stella said suspiciously, adjusting her bracelets with the menace of a woman about to interrogate a dinner guest. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“The look you get right before deciding something rash. Usually involving old magic, forbidden corridors, or Keegan’s heart.”

Bella’s ears twitched. “She’s not wrong.”

Twobble, who had somehow snuck back to the doorway, chimed in, “I’ve seen that look too. Last time, it ended with a mushroom the size of a cow. Just saying. Do we remember the Wilds? Anyone? That’s how we got stuck with this lump.”

Their voices swirled around me, but I held onto the quiet fire that had sparked in my chest. I couldn’t share it, not with them, not with anyone.

This plan wasn’t for committee discussion, wasn’t for debate or laughter or goblin snark. It was mine. And if I faltered, it would all fall apart.

I pressed a hand against the doorframe, steadying myself.

“I need some air,” I said, my voice firmer than I intended.

Stella opened her mouth to protest, but Nova raised a hand, silencing her. Her gaze never left mine.

Nova knew. She always knew.