Page 77 of Magical Mayhem

I chuckled.

Ardetia moved toward a cluster of kitchen sprites zipping around the edge of the hall. They were already darting from table to table, balancing trays of food larger than themselves, chattering in their high, quick voices. I saw her lean down to murmur an order. Their eyes lit up instantly.

They adored requests. It gave them an excuse to outdo themselves.

I knew from experience they wouldn’t just bring back soup and bread. They’d show up with sculpted butter in the shape of roses or a cake layered with spells to make the frosting twinkle.

I found a spot at one of the long tables, sliding onto the bench. Lady Limora perched across from me with elegancethat made even sitting down look like a performance. Vivienne plopped beside her, while Opal and Mara settled in, plates clinking as they arranged themselves.

“Eat something,” Limora instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, ma’am,” I teased, and reached for the nearest dish that looked to be chicken pot pie.

Ardetia returned just as I was cutting into it, sliding onto the bench with the same unhurried grace she always carried. A few minutes later, the sprites darted in like a parade, balancing trays high over their heads. Plates of roasted vegetables, small honey cakes, and bowls of herb-laden soup appeared in front of us. One sprite winked at me as it set down a mug of spiced cider, then darted off before I could thank it.

“They love you,” Opal whispered.

“They love everyone,” I corrected, though warmth spread in my chest all the same.

For a little while, I let myself sink into the moment. The hall buzzed with chatter and laughter as students compared notes about spells and marriages gone awry, herbs that grew better than expected, or familiars who’d staged mini-rebellions in the dorms.

Lady Limora recounted a tale of a botched glamour spell that had turned a student’s hair into writhing vines for half an afternoon. Mara admitted she’d accidentally transfigured a pile of books into geese. Vivienne declared it a success rather than a failure.

I laughed until my sides hurt, letting the warmth of food and company wash through me. I tried, really tried, to see theAcademy the way they did. A place of beauty. A second chance. A promise that midlife didn’t mean endings, but beginnings.

For a moment, it worked.

But then the laughter around our table stuttered, silenced. Lady Limora’s smile froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. Mara set her goblet down with a faint clink. Vivienne leaned closer to Opal, whispering something urgent.

The air shifted, hushed.

I frowned, mid-bite, then swallowed quickly. “What is it?”

No one answered. Their eyes weren’t on me. They were fixed just over my shoulder.

The hair on my neck prickled.

Slowly, I set down my fork. The chicken pot pie still steamed on my plate, rich and comforting. I cut another bite, trying for nonchalance, though my heart had already begun to hammer.

“Really,” I said, forcing a laugh. “Don’t make me guess. What’s…?”

I turned, fork in hand, to see what had stolen the room’s breath.

And then I saw her.

Not the Silver Wolf.

Someone else entirely.

The fork slipped from my fingers and clattered against the plate as my eyes locked on hers.

My mother.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The faces around me blurred. Only one figure stood clear.

My mother.