Page 138 of Magical Mischief

“But not so different that you didn’t wonder.”

“I’ve wondered a great many things about you, Maeve. From the moment you spoke to Gideon from the safety of your bedroom.” Her eyes crinkled. “But wondering isn’t knowing. And I had no proof.”

“Ardetia seems pretty certain. She’s a fae.”

Elira raised a brow. “Fae usually are. Is she our new visitor?”

I nodded, looked at the fire, and let it warm my hands before speaking again.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was a possibility? That hedge witches even existed in our family line?”

She was quiet for a moment. Not defensive. Just… careful.

“Your great-grandmother was one,” she said finally. “Though we didn’t call it that back then. Just said she had a knack for crossing thresholds. She didn’t stay in one place for long—not mentally, not magically. She was strange in all the ways people find inconvenient. She left before I was old enough to remember her properly.”

Did this mean Celeste would eventually wind up here? Wondering? Believing?

“I saw hints,” she admitted. “The way the Wards behaved around you. How some of the binding spells just… frayed in your presence. But you never seemed pulled between worlds. Not until recently.”

“I didn’t even know Iwas.”

Elira nodded. “Which was the only reason I didn’t push. I would've told you if you’d shown signs of slipping through places you didn’t belong. But you stayed grounded. You grew up mostly outside of magic, where that kind of crossing wasn’t likely. Until you came back here.”

I swallowed. “So it’s not just a magical quirk.”

“No.” Her voice softened. “It’s an identity. A weight and a gift, both.”

I nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Then, before I could lose my nerve, I shifted forward in the chair. “There’s something else.”

My grandma raised her brows again, though her expression didn’t change.

“I found the books,” I said. “In the basement room. The ones behind the stone. The journals.”

Her lips pressed together. She didn’t speak.

“And I saw the spells. The diagrams. Some of it looked… not like the magic we use.”

Still, she didn’t speak.

“Some of it looked close to shadow work,” I said. “Not quite dark magic. But not light either.”

Finally, Grandma Elira inhaled, slow and deep.

“I was scared,” she said. “Curious. And reckless in a way I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I wanted to know what the Academy couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell me. I never crossed into true shadow magic. But I walked the border.”

I looked at her, trying to gauge the distance between who she’d been and now. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Because it was mine to carry,” she said simply. “And I didn’t want you tracing my path. I wanted you to make your own.”

I leaned back, hands folded in my lap. The fire popped sharply. I stared at it for a long moment.

“There’s one more thing.”

Grandma Elira’s voice was quiet. “Go on.”

I turned to her, my expression probably sharper than I meant.

“Why did you lie? When I asked you if other dragons existed, besides the ones here, you said you didn’t know.”