Page 50 of Magical Mission

My heart thudded, slow and heavy. I knew. I didn’t want to know, but I knew.

They were talking about me.

Of course they were.

I wasn’t upset,not really.

I trusted Nova’s judgment. And Twobble, well... he could keep a secret unless you bribed him with a cart full of enchanted pastries.

But whatever he’d seen, it must’ve shaken him enough that he’d hoped for some guidance.

Yet, the way Nova’s voice lowered on the wordtogether,the way Twobble sounded anxious and stubborn, it curled something tight in my chest.

“What if she’s already in danger?” Twobble whispered. “What if he’s already found a way in?”

My breath caught.

Nova didn’t answer right away.

When she did, her voice was even softer.

“Then we move fast. But not in fear.”

He didn’t argue. I heard his tiny footsteps retreating, followed by Nova’s heavier ones—more deliberate, always sharp.

I stayed perfectly still until they were both gone.

Then, slowly, I stepped into the alcove.

The broom closet door was ajar. One of the brooms, a short, stubborn thing that I was fairly sure had once belonged to a warlock with control issues, gave me a judging tilt before going still again.

I stared down the now-empty hallway.

Whatever they’d been talking about, it was real. And it had to do withhim.

Gideon.

Even when he wasn’t here, he made things feel heavier.

Twobble had seen something. Something that made Nova serious and careful. Something that made her hold back.

I rubbed a hand over my face.

I wanted to charge into the hallway and confront them both.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I turned and walked the rest of the way toward the kitchen, trying to focus on the scent of chicken pot pie andnot the memory of Twobble’s voice sayingWhat if he’s already found a way in?

The kitchen was warm and bright and humming with sprite activity. Tiny forms zipped from counter to cauldron, stirring with utensils far too large for their arms. One sprite perched on the edge of a mixing bowl and dumped in an entire jar of honey, then cackled.

It helped. A little.

Stella stood near the hearth, supervising a row of floating teacups and muttering.

She caught sight of me and raised an eyebrow.

“Back already?” she asked.