Page 99 of Magical Mayhem

I sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. A couple hours.”

Nova gave a single, satisfied nod, as though she’d expected me to fight longer.

“Go to your cottage. Familiar walls will steady you.”

Ember, who had slipped in quietly, flickered to a gentle glow by the hearth.

“I’ll go to the Academy,” she said, her translucent hands clasped together. “Keegan will not be alone.”

Ardetia stepped forward, her hair catching the lamplight. “Nor will he lack guidance. I will see to it that he rests, even if I must lull him into it myself.”

The reassurance eased a knot in my chest. I trusted them both. Between Ember’s patience and Ardetia’s quiet strength, Keegan would be in good hands.

I pressed a hand to Gideon’s blanket, the faintest squeeze as though to remind him I’d be back, then stood. My legs wobbled, but I managed. Nova’s steady presence shadowed me to the door, her staff clicking softly against the floor.

“Two hours,” she reminded me, her eyes locking on mine. “Not a minute less.”

I gave her a weary smile. “You sound like my mother.”

Her lips quirked, though the seriousness didn’t leave her gaze. “Then listen for once.”

The night air outside the inn was cool, brushing my face like balm. The shadows still swirled heavy in the skies, but the lanterns along the street glowed stubbornly, their golden light pushing back the darkness. I pulled my cloak tighter and set my steps toward the cottage.

By the time I reached the familiar garden path, exhaustion dragged at every limb.

And there, perched like a gargoyle should be, though far more graceful, was Karvey. He swooped down from the roof themoment he spotted me, wings stretching wide before he landed neatly at my side.

“Maeve,” he said urgently, his gravelly voice echoing with concern. “You’re ill.” His stone brow furrowed. “Are you ill?”

I tried to laugh, though it came out thin. “Not ill. Just… burned out. You should see Keegan. He looks worse.”

.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of herbs and wood smoke wrapping around me like a blanket.

A groan rose from below in the cellar.

“Not you again,” Miora muttered, her voice sharp as ever.

She cut off suddenly. There was a pause. Then a rush of movement.

Miora appeared in the doorway, her face stern, but her eyes softened the moment they landed on me. “Oh. It’s you. Not her.”

The relief in her voice was so naked it startled me.

Her lips even curved into a faint smile. “Well, thank the stars. I don’t think I could’ve handled another round of her dramatics tonight.”

A laugh bubbled up in me, surprising and warm. It broke through the exhaustion just enough to leave a smile on my own lips.

“It’s just me,” I said softly. “No dramatics. Not tonight.”

Miora gave a brisk nod, though I thought I saw her eyes glisten faintly before she vanished back into the cellar.

The cottage seemed to exhale around me, the Ward humming its welcome. I slipped off my sandals, climbed the ladder to the loft, and let myself fall into the softness of my bed.

The quilt was soft like clouds, and the pillow was cool against my cheek. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax, even if only for a little while.

Sleep pulled me down swiftly, heavy and inevitable.