Page 49 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of my choice. My pulse hammered and my palms were damp, but for once, the thought of facing him terrified me less than the thought of taking another half-truth from a reflection.

A slow, unexpected smile spread across Nova’s lips, transforming her solemn features. “Good.”

I blinked. “Good?”

She nodded once, approving, almost proud. “The mirrors would have told you something, yes. But it would not have been Keegan’s truth. And his truth is the one that matters.”

Relief washed through me, tangled with dread. “So you’ll come with me?”

“Of course.” Her smile softened, wry at the edges. “You’ll need someone to keep him from brooding his way out of giving you a straight answer.”

Despite the tightness in my chest, a laugh escaped me, small and shaky. “He’s very good at that.”

“Too good,” she agreed, her staff clicking as we left the chamber.

Behind us, the mirrors dimmed fully, their surfaces dull as stone. I didn’t look back.

The halls stretched long and quiet as we wound through the Academy. My footsteps echoed against vaulted ceilings, each beat counting down to the moment I’d stand in front of him and demand what I’d waited too long to know.

My mouth was dry. My thoughts scattered. What if his truth shattered something between us? What if it was worse than I imagined?

Nova glanced at me as though she could read every fear rolling through me. “You’re strong enough for the answer, Maeve.”

I nodded, clutching the paper bag tighter in my hands. “I hope so.”

We turned down the final corridor. The sconces here burned lower, shadows pooling along the stone walls. The hush was deeper, intimate, as though the Academy itself leaned in to listen.

And then we stopped.

Keegan’s door loomed in front of us, dark wood carved with runes that glimmered faintly in the torchlight.

I stared at it, my heart thrumming like a trapped hummingbird.

Nova’s voice was soft beside me. “Ready?”

I lingered at the threshold, my hand hovering over the carved wood. The runes shimmered faintly beneath my fingers, as though they recognized my hesitation.

I glanced at Nova. “Do you mind standing out here?”

Her green eyes softened, understanding flickering there.

“Of course. This is between you and him.” She set her staff against the wall and folded her arms. “I’ll keep watch.”

I nodded, grateful, and pressed the door open.

Warmth met me first, and then the hush of a steady fire, the scent of woodsmoke, and the low crackle of flames in the hearth.

Keegan sat in a deep leather chair, his broad frame draped in shadow and firelight.

A book rested in his hands, thumb marking his place, though his gaze was distant as if he hadn’t really been reading at all.

For a moment, I almost turned and fled. But the memory of molten eyes in the dusk, silver fur gleaming like a blade, drove me forward.

“Keegan,” I said softly.

His eyes lifted, hazel threaded with amber, steadying me and undoing me all at once. “Maeve.” His voice was low, roughened by the fire’s glow.

I stepped closer, the bag of Stella’s tea still clutched in my hand like a shield. “I saw it again.”

The fire snapped, sparks drifting upward. “The shadows?”

“No. The silver wolf.”

“Where?” His voice was too even.

Too careful.

“On my way back from Stella’s. It was there, Keegan. Not shadow. Not illusion. Solid. Watching me.”

The room fell into silence so deep I could hear the faint pop of sap burning in the logs. His eyes didn’t leave mine, but he didn’t speak, either. He simply stared, the muscles in his jaw working like he was chewing on the truth and couldn’t swallow it.

I took another step, the tea crinkling in my hands.

“Don’t tell me to let it go. Don’t tell me you don’t know, or that I need to wait. It’s time for the truth.” My voice broke, fierce with everything I’d carried. “Tell me who the wolf is.”

His gaze locked fully with mine, and something shifted in them… a weight, an ache, and finally, surrender.

His voice was barely more than a rasp.

“It’s my mother.”

The book slipped from his lap and hit the rug with a heavy thud, the sound echoing like a verdict.

I froze, every thought scattering like sparks from the fire.

Mother.

The silver wolf wasn’t a legend or some unknown shadow.

She was his blood.

And she saved us.

But why come back now?

***