Page 46 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

I turned the corner and nearly stopped short. Twobble had wandered off to pick dandelions with Skonk, and I decided to head back to Keegan.

A procession of kitchen sprites toddled along the corridor, each no taller than my knees, balancing trays and plates with an air of grave determination. Steam rose from heaping bowls, the scent of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes trailing behind them like a promise.

Quite the lunch, headed somewhere.

Behind the parade marched Stella, shawl flaring dramatically, her chin held high as though she were leading a royal feast to a coronation instead of to a sickbed.

“Stella?” I asked, blinking.

She didn’t break stride. “Ah, Maeve. Just in time.”

I fell into step beside her, careful not to trip a sprite underfoot. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding him, obviously.” She sniffed, waving her hand with great dignity toward the line of food-bearing sprites. “The man is clearly hangry. You’ve seen it, snapping, growling, eyes all dark like a storm cloud. Do you know what that is?”

“Possession by shadows?” I suggested.

Stella arched a penciled brow. “Low blood sugar.”

A laugh escaped me, small but real. I hadn’t expected it, not after the night we’d had, not after the conversation with Twobble that still sat like a stone in my chest. But Stella, with her fierce certainty and her refusal to be cowed by anything, even Malore’s encroaching darkness, made me smile in spite of myself.

She must have caught it, because her lips quirked.

“There now. You’re looking less like doom and more like a woman with sense. Don’t worry, dear. I’ve handled grumpy men for centuries. A good roast chicken and mashed potatoes will soften even the most tragic brooders.”

I bit back another laugh, following as the sprites rounded the corner toward Keegan’s room. “You really think food is the answer?”

“I know it is,” she said crisply. “And if not food, then pie. And if not pie, then tea. And if not tea, well…” She patted the brooch pinned at her chest, fangs flashing faintly. “Then there are other methods.”

I decided not to ask what she meant by other methods.

The sprites reached the door, pushing it open with surprising coordination, their trays clinking merrily.

Stella swept in after them, skirt brushing the floor like a queen entering court.

I hesitated at the threshold, bracing myself for Keegan’s temper, for the shadows in his eyes, for another round of words that weren’t his.

Instead, I was met with something else.

The fire still burned low in the grate. Ember sat in a chair near the window, her faint, greenish glow soft in the afternoon light.

She rose as the sprites filed in, her movements fluid and unhurried, like mist curling off water.

Without a word, she began helping the little creatures set dishes on the side table, arranging them with surprising care.

And Keegan…

He sat upright in the chair, not slouched as he had been, his color less ashen. His eyes, though still shadowed, were clearer, the wolf-fire glinting through. He looked… more himself.

The sight made my chest loosen in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

“What’s all this?” he asked, though his voice was still rough.

“Lunch,” Stella announced. “And possibly supper, if you don’t make a fuss. You’ll eat every bite, young man.”

Keegan blinked at her, something between bemusement and disbelief crossing his face. “Stella.”

“No arguments.” She waved a hand, dismissing his protest as though he were a schoolboy caught cheating at cards. “Your attitude is abysmal, and abysmal attitudes are cured with food. Ask anyone sensible. Besides, do you want the sprites offended? They worked very hard.”

One of the sprites nodded gravely, lifting a dish of rolls toward him.

Keegan’s lips twitched, the faintest smile threatening. “I wouldn’t want to offend them.”

“Good.” Stella clapped her hands. “Then dig in.”

I stepped inside quietly, leaning against the doorframe as I watched the scene unfold.

The tightness in my chest eased further with every heartbeat.

For the first time in what felt like days, there was no growl in Keegan’s voice, no suspicion in his eyes.

Just a man blinking at a table covered in food, clearly bewildered by the sheer force of will that was Stella.

He picked up a fork, cutting into the roast chicken as the sprites crowded close, beaming with expectation.

Ember, still standing by the window, helped shift a bowl closer, her pale glow brushing across his shoulder like a benediction.

“This isn’t necessary,” Keegan said, though he took another bite.

“Of course it is,” Stella said, settling herself into a chair with a dramatic flourish of shawl. “Do you think you can battle shadows on an empty stomach? Nonsense. Vampires know these things. Starving men are irritable, irritable men are reckless, and reckless men make terrible company. Eat.”

Keegan shook his head, but he ate, and a faint warmth bloomed in my chest.

Twobble sidled up beside me, whispering, “She’s terrifying.”

“She’s effective,” I whispered back, lips curving.

Stella glanced over, sharp as a hawk. “And I hear everything, ” she said sweetly.

Twobble jumped. I smothered another laugh.

I stayed there a while longer, watching Keegan eat, watching the way Ember hovered with quiet care, helping without comment. When at last the sprites finished their work and bustled out again, Stella rose, sweeping her shawl around her shoulders like a general after a victorious campaign.

“There. Better already,” she declared, giving Keegan a look that got no argument. “Now, finish the potatoes. And don’t make that face. You’ll thank me when you’re not snarling at everyone.”

Keegan met her gaze, then glanced toward me. For the briefest moment, the shadows eased back, and I saw him as he had always been. The solid, steady man who had held me upright when I faltered.

And I thought that maybe Stella was right. Maybe roast chicken could fight shadows after all.

“I’m headed to my tea shop. We need to restock and bring things back to the Academy,” she said, giving me a pointed look.

The room quieted when Ember and the last of the kitchen sprites shuffled out, their trays rattling faintly as the door swung shut behind them.

And then it was just the two of us.

Keegan leaned back in the chair, fork still in hand, though the food had lost his interest. He’d eaten some, enough to appease Stella’s wrath, I supposed. But the rest of the roast chicken, the mashed potatoes, the bread rolls were only distractions. Even his appetite had lessened.

I stayed near the hearth for a moment, my arms folded, watching the fire crackle low. I wanted to believe that Stella’s feast had done something huge.

But wishful thinking didn’t banish curses.

When I looked at Keegan, really looked, I saw the truth.

His shoulders were still tight, his eyes shadowed by more than sleeplessness. His jaw flexed every few seconds, the rhythm of someone trying to bite back words, or worse, trying to bite back what wasn’t his at all.

“You should eat more,” I said softly, just to break the silence.

He huffed a laugh, low and humorless. “And let Stella think she’s right? Never.”

“She’s always right.” I moved closer, perching on the arm of the chair beside him. “That’s how she’s survived centuries.”

That earned me a faint smile, crooked and tired. “And you? How will you survive?”

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “By keeping you alive.”

His expression shifted, flickering between affection and something sharper, something darker. He covered my hand with his own, his skin warm, his grip too tight. “Maeve… you can’t carry this alone.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I have you.”

For a moment, his eyes softened, the gold flecks in them brightening, wolf-fire burning through the murk. But just as quickly, the shadows slithered back, dulling his gaze. He pulled his hand away, dragging it through his hair with frustration.

“You don’t see it,” he muttered. “You don’t see what’s happening to me.”

I leaned forward. “Yes, I do.”

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

“Then why are you still here? Why aren’t you doing what everyone else would? Running. Leaving before I become,” His voice broke off. He pushed up from the chair, pacing to the window where Ember had been moments ago. “Before I become him.”

“Gideon is key,” I whispered.

Keegan’s shoulders went rigid at the name. He pressed a hand to the cold stone of the window ledge, fingers curling like claws. “Don’t say his name.”

My throat tightened, but I stood anyway, crossing the room slowly. “You think if we don’t say it, it won’t be true? That if we don’t admit it, you won’t feel what you’re feeling?”

His laugh was bitter, raw. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

I stopped a few feet behind him, my heart pounding. “I’m stubborn because I love you. Because I know what Malore is trying to do. He takes a wound and digs it deeper until it swallows the man whole. That’s what he did to Gideon.”

“And now me.” Keegan’s voice was low, hoarse.

“Not if we can stop it,” I said.

He turned sharply, eyes blazing. For a breath, the wolf in him showed up, sharp, dangerous, and with more shadow than light.

“What if you can’t?” His voice was rough, jagged. “What if it’s already too late?”

The fear in his words cut through me, sharp as any blade. But I held my ground. “Then I’ll go down fighting for you. But I won’t give up on you, Keegan. Not now. Not ever. The fate of the magical world depends on it.”

He stared at me, breathing hard, like he was fighting something inside himself that wanted to claw its way out. His fists clenched at his sides.

“No pressure.” I shrugged.

That brought a smile to his face, and I stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating off him, and the tension thrumming in his body. I lifted a hand, touching his jaw lightly.

“You are not Gideon. You are not Malore’s puppet. You are Keegan. My Keegan. And I will do anything to keep it that way.”

His eyes flickered again with gold against shadow and fire against ash. He leaned into my touch for a heartbeat, then jerked back, pacing like a caged animal.

“You don’t understand. I can feel it, Maeve. Inside me. Every whisper, every doubt I’ve ever had, it’s louder now. It’s like he’s feeding it, twisting it. And I don’t know how long I can keep him out.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” I said firmly. “That’s what he wants. Malore needs to isolate you, to make you think you’re already lost. But you’re not. You’re here. With me.”

He stopped, chest heaving, his gaze locking on mine. “You’d stake everything on that?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

He shook his head slowly, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “You’re reckless.”

“Maybe,” I said softly. “But reckless has gotten us this far.”

He let out a long breath, shoulders sagging, as though the fight inside him had loosened its grip, just for now. He came back to the chair, sinking down heavily. I followed, kneeling at his side this time, taking his hands in mine.

His fingers trembled, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re changing,” I whispered, the words nearly breaking me. “I can see it. And it terrifies me. But it doesn’t change how I feel. I’ll fight Malore every step of the way if I have to. I’ll fight him in you if it comes to that.”

He looked down at me, something raw in his eyes. “You’d fight me?”

“I’d fight for you,” I corrected. “Always for you.”

For a long time, he said nothing. The fire cracked behind us, the smell of roasted chicken and spiced potatoes lingered in the air.

Finally, he lifted one of my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against my knuckles. His breath was unsteady, but the gesture was steady, deliberate.

“Don’t let go,” he murmured. “No matter what happens.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

And as I held his hand, I made another vow, one I didn’t speak aloud.

I would not let Malore win. Not with Gideon, not with Keegan, not with anyone. Even if it meant tearing the seed of shadow out with my own hands.

I would save him.

No matter the cost.