Page 142 of Magical Mischief

Fiercely.

And I needed to see her.

My grandma caught my gaze, and off I went, winding through the corridors and down stairs that appeared to offer a shortcut.

The air outside slapped me in the face as I opened the main doors, cold and sharp with snow. It tugged at my coat and whipped my hair around like it had something to say. I pulled the hood up and pressed forward, down the front steps and onto the path that led through the trees.

The snow was deep, nearly to my calves, but the path had a faint shimmer, like it remembered where feet had fallen before. I followed it without thinking, boots crunching steady, breath curling into the air in front of me.

It was a fair walk to the edge of the village where Nova’s cottage sat, nestled near the birch trees and surrounded by mismatched wind chimes. I’d only seen it in passing, but I knew she wasn’t at the shop at this hour, so she was on a moonlight stroll or nestled in her home.

By the time I saw smoke from her chimney, my cheeks were raw and my fingertips half-frozen.

But I didn’t slow down.

I knocked twice on the bright blue door, then again faster.

“Nova, it’s me!” I shouted through the wood. “Open up!”

There was a shuffle, a soft thud, and the door opened. Nova stood in a patchwork sweater and thick socks, her raven-colored waves wild around her head like a halo of sparks. She blinked at me.

“You’re half-frosted, Maeve,” she said, pulling me inside without waiting. “Come on, come on. What are you doing out in this mess?”

She bustled into the kitchen, already pouring tea without asking if I wanted any. I sat on the bench near the fireplace, peeling off my gloves and trying to warm my fingers without catching them on the flames.

Everything about Nova’s cottage was more perfect than I imagined.

Warmth greeted me not just from the hearth, but from the very bones of the place. The cottage hummed with magic, soft and wild, like a lullaby sung by fairies. Crystals hung in the windows, catching stray beams of moonlight and scattering them into tiny rainbows that danced across the weathered wood floors. The air smelled of lavender, candle smoke, and something ancient—sage, maybe, or secrets.

Books lined every wall, overflowing their shelves in delightful chaos. Some had bookmarks made from feathers or dried petals, others left open as though Nova might pick up reading mid-stride. Tarot decks were stacked in woven baskets beside the worn armchair, each wrapped in silk or tied with twine, buzzing with quiet power.

Whimsy lived inside these walls.

A teacup balanced on a stack of poetry, a cat-shaped clock meowed the hour, and tiny bottles of stardust…or glitter, maybe…rested on a window ledge. It was all so unmistakablyNova. The kind of space where magic didn't just happen, it belonged.

“I had to tell you something,” I said.

Nova handed me a mug and raised an eyebrow. “Clearly. What is it, then? Has the Academy finally remembered we exist?”

I looked up at her. “I think it’s more than that. I think it’s inviting you in.”

She froze, mid-sip. “Don’t tease me, Maeve.”

“I’m not.” I set the tea down. “There’s a classroom. Two, actually. They weren’t there yesterday. No one saw them before now. But one of them… Nova, it’syours.I can feel it.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Crystals, herbs, cards—yourcards, Nova. They could belong to no one else. The bundles of lemon leaf and rue are tied with that striped thread you always use. I didn’t need your name on the door. The roomfeltlike you.”

She sat down slowly across from me, still holding the mug but no longer drinking from it.

“The Wards never let me through,” she said quietly. “I always hit the edge and bounce.”

“I know,” I said. “But maybe tonight is different.”

Nova looked past me, toward the window where the snow was still falling hard, the world outside blurred white.

“What if I go and it still pushes me out?” she said, voice low. “What if it hasn’t changed?”