Page 7 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

The charms shimmered faintly above the Academy as we returned from the edge of the Wilds. Nova’s hand was still tight on her staff, and her face looked unreadable, while Ardetia’s grace barely concealed the tension in her shoulders. Bella walked close to me, but even she couldn’t shake the unease.

The courtyard had quieted.

Most of the students had gone to their dormitories, still buzzing with talk of the bramble mule. Laughter drifted faintly from the windows, the sound bright, unaware of how thin the boundary between safety and danger had felt only minutes ago.

Twobble popped out from behind a pillar, arms crossed smugly, his chin dusted with crumbs.

“See? Told you not to worry. The petting zoo is under control. I even got them to braid flowers in the mule’s mane. Very professional services provided.”

Nova arched a brow but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she looked at me, her expression softening. “We’ll keep the students steady. Go.”

“Go?” I asked.

“To him,” Ardetia said, her voice gentle, her pale eyes shimmering with understanding. “Keegan needs you tonight more than anyone else.”

My chest ached at the truth of it. I nodded once, unable to speak.

Twobble flapped a hand. “Go on, then. We’ll handle the witches of chaos. You two do the romantic, tragic, brooding curse thing. I’ll supervise the mule.”

Bella rolled her eyes and swatted at him, but the tension cracked just enough for me to breathe.

“Go,” Nova said again, firmer this time.

So I did.

The halls of the Academy dimmed as night pressed closer, and the sconces flickered to life.

My sandals echoed softly on the floor, carrying me toward Keegan’s quarters. The summer session had started, and I felt like my world was spinning in the wrong direction.

The door to Keegan’s room was ajar, and the scent of roasted herbs and honey butter drifted into the corridor. Stella had obviously been here with the kitchen sprites.

When I pushed the door gently, the sight that greeted me made me laugh softly under my breath.

A veritable feast sat on the low table by his bed.

Bowls with steaming potatoes, roasted corn, baked chicken, bread piled high, and sugared fruits gleaming like jewels, dotted his desk.

Plates clattered faintly as two sprites vanished with a wink, their duty done.

“Stella,” I whispered with a smile.

Of course, she would try to feed him well enough to drown out any curse.

But when my gaze shifted to Keegan, my smile faltered.

He sat propped against pillows, firelight spilling over his face. Gorgeous as ever, too gorgeous, really, with his strong jaw, tousled hair, hazel eyes catching every shade of gold. But there was something else tonight.

Something darker again.

The shadows seemed to cling closer to his skin, the hollows of his face sharper, his presence heavier, as though the curse had reached deeper into him since morning.

My belly twisted in denial.

But when his eyes locked on mine, the heaviness cracked a little.

“Maeve,” he murmured, his voice rough but soft in the quiet room.

I slipped inside and closed the door behind me. I sat gently on the edge of his bed. For a long moment, we didn’t speak, didn’t need to. His eyes searched mine as my breath hitched, and then he leaned forward.

His lips brushed mine, soft and lingering.

The kiss sent a warmth cascading through me, my belly stirring as heat bloomed low and sweet.

When he pulled back, his eyes held mine, fierce and vulnerable all at once.

“I miss you,” he whispered. “I miss me.”

I blinked, my throat aching. “I’m right here.”

“I know. But I’m….” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. For not being myself lately.”

I reached out, brushing my fingers against his cheek. His skin was warm, the stubble rough under my touch. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His mouth twitched. “You say that, but you’ve seen me. Snapping. Brooding. Pacing like a caged wolf.”

I chuckled softly. “So basically you’ve been yourself?”

A laugh broke from him, low and rough, the sound rumbling through my chest. “You always find a way to tease me when I least deserve it.” He shook his head, keeping my gaze. “You make me feel human again.”

“Whether or not you deserve anything has zippo to do with it,” I joked, my grin tugging wider. “Besides, it’s not your fault. You didn’t exactly sign up for being cursed.”

He leaned back, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “No. But I should carry it better.”

I swatted his arm gently. “Keegan, you carry everything better than anyone I know. You’ve been protecting Stonewick since before I even believed in my own magic. If you need to sulk a little while you fight off a centuries-old curse and ancient rites, then sulk. You’ve earned it.”

His hazel eyes softened as the shadows eased slightly. “You’re impossible.”

“Adorable,” I corrected with a smirk.

He laughed again, shaking his head, and the warmth in the sound nearly undid me.

I reached for one of the plates Stella had sent up, loading a piece of roasted chicken onto it. “Eat. She’ll kill us both if she hears you didn’t touch any of this.”

He accepted the plate with a grin, his fingers brushing mine. “She’s scarier than the curse.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll put it on a teacup.”

His laughter filled the room again, and for a moment, the shadows seemed to recede.

We ate together quietly, trading little quips. I teased him for his sudden and terrible manners, and he teased me for fussing like Stella.

The fire cracked in the hearth, and the scent of herbs and honey butter wrapped us in warmth.

But even as I laughed, I couldn’t shake the darker edge in his eyes. The curse still coiled beneath the surface, waiting to spread more. And though he smiled, though he kissed me, though he told me he missed me, I could feel it lurking, biding its time.

I pushed the thought aside, determined to hold onto this moment.

Because tonight, he was mine, and that had to be enough.

The fire crackled as I pushed the plate back onto the table. Keegan leaned into the pillows, looking far too handsome for someone supposedly bedridden. His hair was mussed, his shirt loose at the collar, his smile soft, but those shadows still clung to the edges of him.

I wanted to banish them. To keep him laughing forever. To keep us in this room where curses didn’t exist.

Instead, I cleared my throat and said, “Keegan, can I ask you something?”

He looked at me over the rim of his cup, brows raised. “That sounds suspicious.”

“Maybe it is.”

His mouth tugged into a grin. “Go on then.”

I hesitated, then blurted, “Have you ever heard of… magic mushrooms?”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then he gave a snort that turned into a deep rumble of laughter. He sniffled and shook his head, eyes gleaming. “I never suspected you were one to dabble, Maeve. Here I thought you were a tea-and-scones kind of witch, not one for… well, experimental greenery.”

“First of all, it wouldn’t be greenery. It would be fungi. Spores, to be exact.”

He wiggled his brows. “Even better.”

Heat shot up my neck. “No! Not like that.” I swatted his arm, though I was laughing too. “Not the kind Stella would have to stage an intervention for. These are in the Wilds.”

He arched a brow, smirk tugging. “The Wilds, eh? Sounds even more suspicious. Should I be worried you’re sneaking off for secret mushroom picnics with goblins?”

“Stop.” I shook my head, grinning despite myself. “Listen. Nova said they haven’t been seen for decades.”

The humor drained from his face instantly. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharpening. “Oh?”

“Yes.” My laughter faded, my throat tightening as I thought of the glowing caps.

“They’re called Sillipa. They glow red, huge…

some the size of pillows…and they.” I swallowed, remembering the way the voice had coiled around me.

“They make you hear things. Things you’re afraid of. Or things you want.”

His gaze locked on mine, searching. “And you heard?”

I couldn’t answer. Not fully. Not yet.

“It doesn’t matter what I heard. Only that Nova thinks their spores… twist the mind.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, every trace of humor gone. “I’ve lived my whole life around Stonewick, Maeve. I’ve never heard of them. Not once.”

My stomach sank. “Never?”

“Never.” His voice was firm, final.

The shadows in the room seemed to lean closer. The crackle of the fire dimmed, the scent of roasted herbs suddenly cloying.

“If they’ve come back,” Keegan said slowly, shaking his head, “then something woke them. Something strong enough to rouse what was meant to stay buried, and it seems few even know about them.”

“Like the shadows outside.” I rubbed my arms, trying to shake the chill.

He looked up sharply.

My heart skipped. Gideon. Malore. The voice.

“Keegan…” My words caught. “Do you think the mushrooms are connected to the curse Malore let loose?”

His jaw flexed, eyes darkening. “I think everything is connected to Malore. He doesn’t want the ancient rites thriving again or the Hunger Path choosing its own way.”

For a long moment, we sat in silence. The weight of his words pressed down on both of us.

Finally, he let out a breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So. Magic mushrooms that make witches hear voices. You bring me the best bedtime stories, Maeve.”

I chuckled weakly. “Sorry. Next time I’ll stick to fairy tales.”

“Mm.” He reached for my hand, his fingers curling warm around mine. “You’re my favorite fairy tale. Even if you do drag home cursed fungi.”

My laugh shook, but it was real. I leaned closer, resting my forehead briefly against his. “I just… needed you to know.”

“I’m glad you told me.” His voice softened, low and steady. “Even if we don’t have answers yet.”

His hand squeezed mine, grounding me. For a moment, the mushrooms, the shadows, the voice, all of it fell away, leaving only us in the quiet glow of the fire.

But beneath it, the worry lingered.

Because if Keegan had never heard of the Sillipa Groves, and Nova thought them gone for decades… then why now? Why here?

And why me?