Page 142 of Magical Melee

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re not coming inside?”

He shook his head. “I need to talk to my clan about the days ahead.”

My chest tightened, wondering what all he knew. “Goodnight, Twobble.”

“Goodnight, Maeve,” he said, his grin fading to a softer smile.

As I walked back toward the cottage, the weight of the past few days settled over me. The thought of the Academy, its ancient halls and infinite mysteries, lingered in my mind. I still didn’t fully understand my place in all of this, but I knew one thing for sure: I had chosen my friends, and I would fight for them, no matter what the future held.

The cottage was quiet when I stepped back inside, the warmth from the crackling fireplace a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. Frank was sprawled out on the hearth rug, hissnores a sweet rumble as his stubby legs twitched in his sleep. For a moment, the scene felt almost normal—a cozy home, a sleeping dog, and the distant scent of something vaguely sweet in the air.

I think he’d finally forgiven me for locking him in the cellar.

Keegan stood near the window, his profile outlined by the flickering light. His sword leaned against the wall, and his arms were crossed as he stared out into the woods, lost in thought. He turned as I entered, and his gaze locked onto mine.

There was something different in his eyes, a softness I hadn’t seen before. The usual intensity was still there, but now it was tinged with something warmer, something that made my heart skip a beat.

“Everything okay out there?” he asked, his voice low, almost gentle.

I nodded, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in my chest. “Yeah. Twobble’s holding court in the garden. He’s fine, and so are the goblins. They’ve earned a break.”

Keegan’s lips quirked in a half-smile, but his eyes stayed on me, studying, searching. The air between us felt charged, and for a moment, I was hyper-aware of how close we were. The spark between us wasn’t new, but tonight, it felt stronger, more dangerous.

I looked away, pretending to fuss with the hem of my sleeve, but the warmth of his gaze lingered.

“You’re not tired?” he asked, stepping closer.

“No,” I admitted. “Too much adrenaline, I guess.”

Keegan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’ll do it.”

He stepped closer, and his lips were so close to mine that I wondered…

If maybe…

His mouth parted slowly, and he let out a deep breath. “Thank you, Maeve.”

My heart clenched, and I realized the missed opportunity was just that. A chance that neither of us was ready to take.

The silence stretched between us, comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts. But something from earlier started to stir inside of me.

“Keegan,” I said, my voice hesitant but firm. “What did you mean earlier? About the curse?”

His jaw tightened, and the warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a shadow of regret. “You remembered that, huh?”

“I did,” I said, crossing my arms. “You brought it up, so now you have to explain. What curse?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not something we like to talk about.”

“Well, too bad,” I pressed, trying to ignore how my heart ached at the vulnerability in his expression. “I need to know.”

Keegan hesitated, his gaze flicking to Frank, who snored obliviously by the fire.

Finally, he spoke.

Bitterness tinged his voice.

“About forty years ago, a curse fell upon Stonewick,” he said. “It severed us from our allies—the shifter clans, the packs, even some of the fae. They were our strongest supporters, our safety net when things got bad. And then… they turned theirbacks on us. Some left willingly, others were forced out. The curse made sure we were alone and isolated. Shifter Packs broke up. The Fae divided. Stonewick was left to fend for itself. We’re lucky Twobble and his clan stayed.”