Page 83 of Magical Mission

And candlelight.

And the sound of our students choosing each other.

Chapter Twenty

I woke to the sound of birds singing and the faint aroma of vanilla drifting under my door. The kitchen sprites were at it again, and spring truly was close to gracing us with its presence.

Which, frankly, felt suspicious. Midwest winters usually liked to taunt and tease innocent bystanders, magical and non-magical alike.

I sat up slowly, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and blinked toward the windows before opening one.

Morning light poured through the windows, and outside, I could hear the faint chatter of students already enjoying the sunshine in the courtyard. Someone laughed. A spell fizzled, and then someone else cursed in a very creative way involving goblin elbows and spoiled cheese.

Welcome to another day at the Academy.

I stretched, rolled my ankles, and let out a contented sigh. The air in my room was warm as the fire still gently crackled in the hearth.

My dad snored from his usual spot at the foot of my bed, with his jowls puffing with each breath like a little bellows.

For once, nothing ached. Maybe I was beating this perimenopause thing.

But more importantly, no dreams chased me. No shadows lingered in the back of my mind.

At least not yet.

I showered quickly and pulled on a long wool tunic and wrapped a scarf around my shoulders before stepping out into the hall. The Academy walls hummed quietly, alive and pleased as magic ran like warm water through the stones.

The Academywantedto be awake.

Students filled the corridors, most of them already in the midst of classroom chaos.

Robes half-tied, hair enchanted into spirals, and one poor soul trailing a fluttering set of flashcards that kept whispering incorrect definitions at her.

I offered a few smiles and well-placed nudges as I passed, gently unbewitching a cup that tried to bite its owner.

In the main hall, a breakfast spread had been laid out by the kitchen sprites, with braided breads with honey glaze, pumpkin scones, spiced root jam, and an entire tower of eggs that jiggled when you poked them. I grabbed a mug of tea and settled by the windows, watching as Ardetia led a cluster of students toward the greenhouses with a fox tail peeking from under her cloak.

Peaceful.

That word again.

But peace, in a place like this, rarely lasted long.

“Maeve!”

Twobble appeared at my elbow, arms full of papers and what looked suspiciously like a half-eaten tart.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You’renothere to tell me everything’s going beautifully and the books have decided to alphabetize themselves.”

“Not even close,” he huffed, setting the stack on the table. “Someone enchanted all the library ladders to play keep-away, and the elderly witches are getting pretty...pissed.”

“So, business as usual.” I smiled, wondering if it was one of the ladies from the vampire squad.

Twobble grinned and puffed his cheeks.

“Also, Nandu insists her cauldron is cursed because it keeps whispering, ‘You again?’, every time she approaches, and it refuses to let her add anything to it.”

I nearly spat out my tea. “Have someone check the emotional resonance of her wand.”