Page 93 of Magical Mission

No.

Not yet.

I would never give him the power of silence.

But until I knew, I had to hold this close.

Let it settle.

Let it bloom.

Even if it hurt and even if it meant carrying the secret a little longer.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Afternoon classes were winding down, and students bustled through the corridors, letting laughter, shouting, and mistaken spells lead the way.

Magic sparked in the corners, harmless and half-baked. One woman passed me with her shoes levitating three inches off the floor, floating by and muttering, “Ididn’tmean to enchant them. I just wanted to change the color.”

I smiled, despite myself, and in the center of it all stood Stella, like the world had spun itself to orbit around her.

And maybe it had. She had a way about her that drew people to her. It was one of the reasons her tea shop did so well.

Today, she wore a plum-colored shawl, with sparkles of gold at the fringe, and held a porcelain teapot in one hand while continually refilling everyone’s mugs.

She gave each one a look, a wink, and a bit of honeyed advice.

“Homework stress tea,” she told one lady. “Made with valerian, courage, and the memory of your best night’s sleep.”

The woman stopped and beamed. “Thank you for this. I forgot what it was like to have homework.” I took a second lookat her and realized she was one of our newest arrivals, a fae from the area that Ardetia was from.

It still tickled me how the Academy was bringing souls together under one magical roof for the same cause. It was about time.

To another, Stella winked and said, “This one’s for heartbreak. Or poor grades. Same difference.”

Laughter rippled around her, lifting the edges of the corridor.

The smell of rosemary and garlic filled the air, and for the first time since the vision, since the Hedge, sincehim, I felt my heartbeat begin to even out.

I belonged here.

The Academy wasminenow.

But the thought brought a flicker of unease.

Because something might be threatening it.

Or Stonewick. Or both.

And I didn’t know which yet.

I stood at the edge of the corridor, tea steam curling in the air like protection, and let the chatter wash over me.

The message. The vision. The cloaked figure at the edge.

What if the threat wasn’t from outside?

What if it was something already here?