Page 14

The doors to the library opened with a soft sigh as I stepped through the doorway and into the familiar hush that wasn’t silence exactly, but something deeper. I liked to believe it was a reverence of some sort. The library had always felt sacred to me.

Even before I knew the Academy’s walls could shift on their own, before I understood that the shelves listened, that the books had moods, and that the sprites had opinions— strong opinions, especially about shelving order and who was allowed to touch first editions, I understood that the library was my refuge.

The moment I saw it at the cottage through the pedestal, I knew it would be my safe space.

But today, the magic was alive in a new way.

Because the library wasn’t quiet anymore.

It was full.

Students lined the aisles. Some were in pairs, and others stood wide-eyed in front of towering shelves that shimmered faintly with enchantments.

Soft, knowing laughter floated over the sound of pages turning, and I saw more than one student jumping back as a book fluttered open on its own or zipped off a shelf, thanks to some book sprites, to land neatly in waiting hands.

I never knew how practical it could be to have book sprites as librarians.

They flitted through the air in organized chaos, chattering in their papery voices.

Some carried scrolls. Others perched on shoulders or tugged at sleeves to redirect wandering readers.

A few had tiny quills in hand, furiously scribbling notes on students' preferences that read, likes charms, afraid of poison ivy, very suspicious of warlocks.

My heart swelled.

It had been decades since the library had known this kind of life.

And I had helped bring it back.

We all had.

I paused just inside the doorway, letting the moment sink in. Letting myself feel it.

The joy.

The movement.

The rightness of it all.

The Academy was doing what it was built to do and what it needed to do. And these women were exactly the kind of people it had been waiting for to fill the Wards with new thoughts and strengthen them with life experience.

Older. Wiser. A little broken, maybe, but willing to learn again.

Some of them had tears in their eyes as they traced fingers over the titles. Some simply smiled like they’d stepped back into a room they hadn’t realized they missed.

I saw Mara flipping dramatically through a spellbook with illustrations that kept winking at her.

Vivienne was seated cross-legged on the floor, a glowing volume hovering just over her lap, turning pages on its own.

Opal trailed behind a sprite who kept pointing her toward different shelves with growing enthusiasm.

And near the back, Lady Limora stood before a section on dream magic, her fingers drifting along the spines like she was reading through touch alone.

A lump caught in my throat.

This was everything I’d hoped for.

And still…

A shadow pulled at the edge of the feeling. A thread of unease winding its way through the warmth.

Twobble’s voice echoed faintly in my mind.

There was something with them… a shadow… too tall, too wrong.

I looked at them again. Really looked.

They were smiling. Engaged. Curious.

It couldn’t be them, right?

But the thought stayed, sharp as glass beneath bare feet.

What if one of them wasn’t here to learn?

What if one of them had brought something with them, knowingly or otherwise?

My gaze swept the room again, slower this time. Watching for something that didn’t fit.

A student standing too still. A book that refused to be touched. A sprite that hesitated before making contact.

Nothing obvious.

But that’s how it would be, wouldn’t it?

A spy wouldn’t wear a name tag.

They’d blend in. Charm you. Learn the rules before breaking them.

Or at least I would.

I walked deeper into the library, trailing my fingers along the edge of a nearby table, and watched the students out of the corner of my eye.

A sprite zipped past me with a scroll longer than my arm, muttering about overdue archiving and the nerve of new readers rearranging the alchemy section. I gave a half smile, then continued on, weaving between tables and study nooks.

A few students looked up and smiled as I passed.

“Headmistress,” one murmured with a nod.

I returned it with a smile of my own, trying not to let my unease show.

I wasn’t suspicious of them.

Not exactly.

But I had to be careful. I owed that to the Academy. To the women who trusted me. To the dragons hidden beneath the floors and the wards humming just beneath the stone.

And the curse? We had to stop it, not invite it in.

I stopped near the tall arched window where morning light spilled onto the reading rug, and took a deep breath.

The scent of old paper, wax, lemon balm, and curiosity all blended into a unique moment of magic.

Footsteps approached behind me, light and measured.

“Didn’t expect to find you here,” Stella said, sliding to my side with a fresh mug of tea in hand. “I assumed you were poring over schedules and new student bios.”

“Not yet,” I said softly. “I needed to see this.”

She followed my gaze.

The library was glowing with new students leaning into their second chances. Hope pressed gently against the windows, trickling into Stonewick’s Wards and filling them with each measured second.

Gideon would have a hard time getting past these ladies pretty soon.

Stella handed me the mug. “They look happy.”

“They are happy,” I said. “I just… I wish I could enjoy it without the knot in my stomach.”

“Still worried about what Twobble saw?”

I nodded. “I want to believe we’re safe. I want to believe no one would come here with bad intentions.”

“But?”

I sighed. “But I’ve seen how power makes people desperate. And how easy it is to slip into shadows when no one’s looking.”

She didn’t say anything right away. Just stood with me, shoulder to shoulder, as the light shifted around us.

“Keep watching,” she said finally. “Not with suspicion, Maeve, but with clarity. The Academy will show you what you need to see.”

I nodded slowly, sipping the tea.

She was right.

The Academy had a way of revealing the truth when you were ready for it, even if you felt like you weren’t.

Still, I couldn’t help but glance back one more time.

Just in case.

Because sometimes the brightest rooms still held shadows.

And I intended to find them before they could grow.

I was halfway through shelving a particularly argumentative book on forest-binding spells that I’d found on a table, when I felt a charge run through me. I looked up to see Keegan step into the library.

His presence was like a ripple in a still pond.

He was quiet and steady, but immediately felt.

Keegan paused near the entrance, his broad frame towering in the warm light filtering through the high windows. His footsteps sounded deliberate against the polished stone floor.

I glanced up from the shelf. “You’re either here for a book or to flirt with Lady Limora.”

“Neither,” he said, though his mouth quirked slightly. “I came to find you.”

That got my attention.

I slid the stubborn book into place, ignoring its offended grumble, and turned fully to face him. “Everything okay?”

He hesitated just long enough to make my stomach tighten.

“There’s a situation at the Inn,” he said.

I blinked. “Your hotel? It runs like clockwork.”

He nodded once. “One of the staff sent word. Something about a guest dispute. Ember’s here, or I’d have her tame down the unruly guest.”

“Unruly?” My eyebrows rose. “That’s… rare.”

“Exactly,” he said. “That’s why I’m going.”

I leaned against the end of the shelf, frowning. The boutique hotel was the quietest place in Stonewick. It was considered a safe haven for magical folk and had plenty of charm protections. If drama was happening there, it was usually over whether someone got the last piece of lemon cake.

“Did they say who the guest was?”

“Not a name I recognized. Just that someone’s causing a stir, and it’s magical in nature.”

“Magical,” I repeated slowly. “But still staying at the Inn?”

“For now. We’ll see if we can calm them down,” Keegan admitted. “Magical folk don’t usually stir up trouble where they sleep. Not unless they’re desperate. Or reckless.”

Or looking for a distraction.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve got it. It’s probably nothing. Just… weird timing.”

Weird timing indeed.

First, Twobble spotted a shadow, and now, a dispute at the only magically neutral lodging in town?

I didn’t like the pattern, but I also knew it could be nothing at all.

Keegan must’ve caught the worry behind my eyes, because he stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“I’ll come straight back after. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I gave him a wry look. “Let’s hope it’s just someone who didn’t like their pillow.”

He turned to go, but I reached out and caught his arm lightly.

“Be careful,” I said. “Please.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Always.”

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone again with the library and my thoughts, neither of which had been particularly restful lately.

I stared after him for a moment longer, then forced myself to focus. Books still needed sorting. Students still needed guidance. The Academy didn’t pause just because something stirred outside its walls.

I made my way back toward the new arrivals section, which was steadily filling with requests. The book sprites zipped past me, occasionally dropping off books with a flourish.

I was halfway through reorganizing the table near the enchantment alcove when I heard voices.

Soft. Hushed.

Two students were just on the other side of the shelves.

I didn’t recognize the tones at first; one was light and a little breathless, the other lower and clipped. However, something about the cadence made me pause.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Honestly.

I just… didn’t move.

“And he’s really gone now?” the breathless voice asked.

“Yes,” the lower voice replied. “He left to go to the inn.”

“Good.”

A scrape of a chair rattled my insides.

“Tonight, then?” the first voice asked, too eager.

“Yes. But we keep it quiet. If anyone suspects—”

“They won’t. She doesn’t know.”

They were talking about me.

My chest tightened.

I moved silently along the edge of the bookshelf, slow and cautious, until I could catch a glimpse through the narrow gap between volumes.

Two women sat at a table tucked between the section on illusion theory and the old tomes of linguistics.

One had long brown curls and a notebook open in front of her. The other had pale hair drawn into a tight braid. Their heads were close together, eyes darting toward the corridor as if they expected someone to appear at any moment.

“It’s risky,” the brunette whispered.

“That’s why it’s brilliant,” the other said, her voice smooth. “No one expects anything right under their nose.”

I froze.

A book sprite zipped by overhead, unaware.

Neither student moved for a breathless beat.

Then the pale-haired one smiled. “By the time anyone figures it out, it’ll be too late, and the problem will be solved.”

I stepped back before they could see me, heart racing.

Whatever they were planning, it wasn’t harmless.

And it wasn’t meant to be discovered.