Page 149 of Magical Melee

Real magic.

I sat by the front window of the tea shop and wrapped my hands around a steaming mug of spiced chai.

Frank lay sprawled at my feet. His snores lent a gentle counterpoint to the soft crackle of the fire.

Outside, snowflakes danced lazily in the breeze, swirling around the lampposts and dusting the cobblestones. It waspeaceful, almost too peaceful, given everything that had happened.

The memory of the battle still felt fresh. The adrenaline, the fear, and the brief but powerful sense of triumph coated me like a wool blanket.

But now, in the quiet aftermath, I found myself questioning everything. Could we really hold them off indefinitely? Was I strong enough to be the person they needed?

I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the warmth of the tea in my hands. Stella had gone out to run errands, leaving me to mind the shop. The quiet should have been soothing, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Frank,” I muttered, looking down at him. “Am I overthinking everything?”

He opened one eye, gave a soft huff, and promptly went back to sleep.

Typical.

I smiled despite myself, but my thoughts kept circling back to something else—something that had been gnawing at me since before the battle.

It wasn’t about Shadowick or the Academy. It was a conversation I’d had in the knitting shop with the woman who had helped me pick out yarn for Celeste’s scarf.

She’d mentioned something, almost in passing, about not living up to her family’s expectations. At the time, I’d brushed it off and focused on finding the right shade for Celeste.

But now, with everything weighing on me, her words felt more significant. Seeing her in the woods, battling for thegreater good, told me she should have exceeded her family’s expectations if anything.

I stood, setting my mug on the counter. Frank’s ears twitched as I grabbed my coat, but he didn’t stir.

“Stay here,” I said softly, scratching behind his ears. “I won’t be long.”

I turned the shop sign to closed, knowing Stella would understand. The streets weren’t busy, and this was calling me.

The air outside was crisp, the snow crunching underfoot as I made my way down the street. The knitting shop was just a few doors down.

Its cheerful display of colorful scarves and mittens stood out against the snowy backdrop. The bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside, the warmth and smell of wool immediately wrapping around me like a cozy blanket.

The woman behind the counter looked up from her knitting and smiled. “Maeve, back so soon? How’s the scarf coming along?”

It was too funny how we’d just braved a battlefield, but in the confines of town, it was business as usual. Her and her yarn and embroidery thread, and me and my tea.

“It’s coming,” I said, pulling off my gloves. “Though, I could probably use some pointers.”

She chuckled, setting her knitting aside. “Happy to help. What brings you in today?”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing around the shop.

The soft click of knitting needles filled the air as a few other customers worked on their projects.

“It’s something you said the last time I was here,” I began, my voice quieter than I intended. “About not living up to your family’s expectations.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smile fading slightly as she gestured to a nearby table. “Why don’t we sit?”

I nodded, following her to the corner where a pot of tea and a plate of cookies waited.

She poured me a cup, her movements graceful and practiced.

“Funny how things stick with you,” she said, settling into her chair. “What about that stuck out?”