Page 13

The smell of lunch wafted down the corridor. The kitchen sprites were already hard at work, creating something buttery and herby, drifting through the air.

I was rounding the corner near the side hallway when I heard it. Muffled voices, low but sharp in tone, were bickering. I paused with one hand on the stone wall and strained to listen.

The Academy usually buzzed with conversation, yes, but this?

This was different.

This was arguing.

And not just any kind of quarreling.

I knew those voices.

Nova.

And Twobble.

I took a careful step closer, pressing against the wall where the corridor split into a narrow alcove used mostly for broom storage and whatever odd magical object didn’t currently have a home.

“No, I’m serious,” Twobble hissed, his voice high and agitated. “I saw something. And she needs to know.”

“She doesn’t need to know until I understand what you saw,” Nova replied, her voice low and edged like a blade wrapped in silk. “We don’t cause panic without facts.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You’re always panicking, Twobble.”

There was a pause.

“I take offense to that,” he muttered.

Another pause. Shuffling. A frustrated sigh from Nova.

“Look,” she said more gently, “I believe you. Mostly. But I need time. Give me until tonight. If I can confirm anything, then we’ll tell her together.”

Her?

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 word together, 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 with him.

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 and not the memory of Twobble’s voice saying What 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.

“Just wanted to see what was cooking.”

She gave me a long, measuring look. “You look like someone who’s thinking too hard about something they weren’t supposed to hear.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” She smiled and handed me a warm biscuit wrapped in linen. “Eat. You’re better with food in your hands.”

I took it, mumbling a thank you, and tried to ground myself in the moment.

The kitchen. The warmth. The laughter from down the corridor. The knowledge that lunch would be served soon, and with it, a short, sweet hour of normalcy.

But inside, the worry grew like a knot that had been pulled too tight.

Nova and Twobble were keeping something from me.

And whatever it was, I had a feeling it was about to find me before they could speak another word.

I filled a cup with tea as Twobble burst into the room like he’d been launched from a catapult.

His coat was rumpled, one boot was half-laced, and his hat was sliding so far to one side it looked like it was trying to escape. He stomped up to me in full goblin fluster, fists clenched, eyes wild.

“There you are!” he snapped, huffing like he’d climbed five flights of stairs even though we were on the main level. “I’ve been looking everywhere! ”

I blinked. “Twobble?”

“Where have you been?”

I stared, mildly stunned. “Uh, here?”

He panted once, dramatically, and added, “I stepped on a squeaky floorboard that summoned a cleaning sprite, and it threw a dust bunny at me. I am not in the mood to play hide and seek.”

I coughed into my hand to hide a smile. “I… apologize?”

“Accepted, provisionally,” he said, pulling his hat straight and squinting up at me. “Because now that I’ve found you, I have something to say, and I don’t care if it ruins your first day of school mojo . We’ve got business. Serious business.”

I straightened, relieved that Twobble was coming to me with whatever he’d spoken to Nova about.

“I wasn’t having…okay, yes, fine.”

“Of course it’s fine,” he muttered. “I’m fine. You’re fine. The Academy is fine.”

“Twobble,” I said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, “what’s going on?”

His whole body seemed to deflate a little then, though the stubborn furrow between his brows remained firmly in place.

“I need to tell you something. About last night.”

That got my full attention.

I stepped back and gestured toward the bench beneath the window. “Sit.”

“I will , thank you,” he said, climbing up and huffing indignantly. “And I won’t be interrupted by anyone this time.”

I raised an eyebrow. “This time?”

He waved me off. “I was on my way to tell you, and ran into Nova first. She told me not to tell you until she could investigate, which isn’t how this goblin works.”

I liked him even more and tried not to smile.

“All right,” I said. “Tell me everything.”

He sat up straighter, took a deep breath, and launched into it.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Had too much apple crumble, and also I was worried that one of the new students might’ve tried to smuggle in a potion for wrinkle reduction, and those have been known to wreak havoc.

Don’t ask, it’s a long story. Anyway, I figured I’d walk it off.

You know. Just a quick lap through the east corridor. ”

“Alone?”

He gave me a look. “Yes. Because someone needed to be brave, and your dad was asleep and snoring like a clogged tuba.”

Accurate.

“So I’m walking,” he continued, “and I hear movement. Light footsteps. Two of them. Not like patrolling teachers. More like… wandering. Sneaking.”

My spine prickled.

“I peek over the balcony near the upper hall, and I see them. Two students. Just walking. Not talking. Middle of the night. And behind them,” he lowered his voice, “was a shadow.”

“A shadow?”

“A shadow, ” he confirmed. “Not theirs. Too tall. Too… weird. It wasn’t just following them. It was with them. And it moved wrong.”

My mind began spinning. “Wrong how?”

He made a vague swirling gesture. “It glided. And it stretched. And when they turned a corner, it turned after them, but not with their movement. Like it was attached, but not part of them. It was… watching.”

“Did the students seem aware?”

“That’s the worst part.” He looked up at me, wide-eyed. “They didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t even seem to see it. Or they didn’t need to see it because they knew it was with them.”

Cold settled into my bones.

Twobble glanced around as if the walls might be listening. “I wanted to tell you immediately, but Nova caught me pacing in a hall and demanded I spill. She told me to wait. She didn’t want to alarm you since it was such a big day for you. But Maeve…” He looked up at me. “I am alarmed.”

So was I.

“Can you describe the students?” I asked carefully.

He wrinkled his nose, thinking. “I haven’t seen them before. One might have had blonde hair, or maybe silver. Hard to tell with just moonlight. The other had dark hair. But I don’t remember seeing them on our first night. But there were a lot whom I haven’t met.”

“What if someone let that shadow in?” he whispered. “What if there’s a spy?”

The word hit me like a spark in dry brush.

A spy.

It wasn’t impossible.

The Academy had reopened after years of silence. We didn’t exactly screen for secret allegiances. Some of these women came from corners of magic I hadn’t even known existed before now.

“We can’t get ahead of ourselves, but thank you,” I said. “For telling me. For trusting me.”

“Of course I trust you,” he said, indignant again. “You gave me my own room and let me have my own snack drawer.”

I smiled, heart full even as my mind churned.

A shadow that didn’t belong.

Students wandering after dark.

Something watching.

Something inside.

I stood. “We’ll be careful. We’ll keep watch and keep it to ourselves.” Twobble zipped his lips dramatically. “Mum’s the word. Unless the shadow tries to talk to me. Then I scream.”

“Please do.”

As he scurried off, muttering about warding his bed with salt and cookie crumbs, I stared down the corridor, the warm light flickering uncertainly along the stone floor.

The Academy had awakened.

But not everything it let in was meant to be here.

And I wasn’t going to wait to find out what that shadow wanted.

Not this time.