Page 32 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

Interest sparked in his gaze, then dimmed under something heavier.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, and it almost sounded like a warning.

“I’m starting to agree.”

The shadow of the woods seemed to lengthen across the ground, stretching toward me. My skin prickled, and I turned toward the cottage.

His voice stopped me halfway through the threshold.

Smooth. Too smooth. The kind that always wrapped itself around a barb.

“How’s Keegan?” he asked. “I’m surprised he’s not with you.”

My jaw tightened, and I turned back slowly to face him.

“Oh?” His mouth quirked. “Did I touch a nerve?”

Gideon’s voice cracked, and he coughed uncontrollably.

“Has your power been… shifting?”

His eyes narrowed. “Shifting?”

“You heard me.” I folded my arms, even though my pulse thumped loudly in my ears. “You seem different. Weaker, maybe. Or just… off.”

He gave a short, sharp laugh. “You think you can read me that well?”

“I think I’ve seen you at your best,” I said, tilting my head, “and this isn’t it. You’re barely holding together, aren’t you? Like it’s slipping. The power accessed with nothing more than a snap of your fingers…gone.”

A flicker crossed his face. Not much, just the tiniest tightening around his mouth. But I saw it.

“What are you getting at, witch?”

“That maybe,” I said slowly, savoring the words, “you’re not the one pulling the strings after all.”

The silence that followed was heavier than I expected.

His gaze sharpened on me as a smile slowly crept along his lips. “Interesting.”

“What?” I demanded.

“I thought you’d be gloating,” he said, tilting his head. “You’ve got your father back in human form. The curse has been broken. Moonbeam bent to your wishes. The Wards are undeniably stronger, and your precious Academy is open.”

The words hit like a physical blow. My heart lurched, but I fought to keep my expression steady.

It had been broken.

“Why aren’t you saying anything, witch?” He laughed. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“I knew parts of the curse had been broken.”

Gideon no longer wore the mask of the untouchable predator I’d come to fear. Shadows clung to him, yes, but they seemed thinner, frayed at the edges as though even darkness had begun to question his authority.

“That’s not how my curse was woven,” he said, the scoff rolling off his tongue like broken glass.

“It wasn’t a tapestry meant to unravel thread by thread.

It ended, snapped, all at once that night.

And you,” his eyes narrowed, burning like coals beneath a draft, “you didn’t even feel it.

” He leaned forward, voice twisting sharper. “Why?”

My pulse tripped over itself. I steadied it with anger.

“Why don’t you tell me? Did you tie another knot that night?

Did you twist something around Keegan when you thought no one was watching?

” I stepped forward before sense could stop me, the air between us crackling with the ache of unspoken spells.

“Because he’s… weaker. And the way you’re standing there, Gideon,” my gaze raked over him, the hollow behind his eyes, the faltering rhythm of shadow at his feet, “so are you.”

One eyebrow arched, deliberate as a blade being lifted for a killing stroke. Shadows shifted at his back, restless, as if waiting for his command.

“I haven’t cast anything on him, Maeve. Nothing special. Nothing new. If he’s crumbling, that’s his own weight pulling him down. Keegan’s not worth my time like that.”

A chill ran from the base of my skull all the way down my spine.

The shadowed sky over Stonewick flashed in my mind.

Its eerie dimness, the way the darkness seemed to have weight, a presence pressing on the Wards.

I’d been blaming Gideon, certain it was his doing, but…

I’d let my hate for Gideon color the disturbing truth.

The curse had been broken. The Wards burned brighter. My dad was no longer condemned to his shifter form. The Academy was open and thriving. Fae and shifter united. Magical creatures stirred and strengthened.

But not Keegan.

The realization sank in like cold water filling my lungs.

Gideon adjusted his coat, glancing toward the woods, and I caught him flexing his left hand, like he was testing its strength.

“You didn’t answer the question,” I said.

“What question?”

My gaze fell to his hands. “Are you feeling as strong as before the Moonbeam?

“I won’t answer that,” he replied, too quickly. “Not to you.”

That slip told me more than any confession would have. If the answer was yes, he’d boast and attempt to capture me or worse.

“If something’s shifting under your feet, Gideon, maybe you should be careful. Maybe someone’s tugging on your strings.”

His gaze snapped to mine, razor-sharp. “You think that someone is you?”

“I know it’s not me,” I said, steady despite the chill crawling up my spine. “And that should terrify you more.”

“I’m no puppet.” His voice was steel, but the way the shadows flickered at his heels betrayed the lie. He studied me for a beat too long. I couldn’t tell if he was weighing whether to laugh, strike, or tear the marrow-deep truth out of me. Then, to my surprise, he only shook his head.

“Go home, Maeve.”

No venom. No promise of retribution. Just a command, brittle with weight.

The shadows around him slithered back, loosening their hold on the air. But the heaviness in my chest didn’t lift.

Because if Gideon wasn’t holding the curse anymore, then something older, hungrier, and far less predictable was. The curse had ended, but its ashes had not cooled. They’d given birth to something worse…something that already had its claws in Keegan.

And if Gideon wasn’t the one pulling the strings, then we were all standing in the dark, waiting to learn whose hand truly held them.

But I feared that I already knew, and by the look in his eyes, he did too.