Page 18

“They’re sisters,” Twobble said for the third time, tugging at the edge of his sleeve.

“Two of them. Newer arrivals only showed up last night. Nobody really noticed because they came in during the last wave of orientation, when Ardetia was busy fending off that flirtatious nymph in the Maple Wing and half the book sprites had gone on a shelving strike.”

I held up a hand, realizing I’d heard nothing about any of it. “Twobble. Focus.”

He stopped pacing and pointed at me. “I am focused. Exceptionally. Painfully.”

“Then breathe and tell me everything you know. From the top.”

He huffed but obeyed, folding himself into the armchair opposite mine. His feet didn’t quite touch the floor, but he swung them with intent.

“Okay. So. The sisters. Their names are Krina and Mys. Full names are Krina Halvyr and Misandra Halvyr. Middle-aged, maybe a few years younger than you. Krina is the quieter one, with dark hair and strong features. Mys is the one with the braid that has a silver streak, talks fast, always chewing something.”

Twobble went on, fiddling with a tea biscuit he’d pilfered on the way in.

“They keep mostly to themselves. Don’t cause trouble in the magical world, at least not directly.

But I started asking around discreetly, even asked Bella, Ardetia, Ember, and Nova.

None of them remembered seeing the two in more than one class each. ”

“Drifting,” I said.

He nodded. “Exactly. Like they’re staying just involved enough not to raise suspicion.”

I exhaled slowly, brow furrowed. “And the shadow?”

He grew still. “It’s connected. But not like we thought.”

I met his eyes. “Go on.”

“Krina,” he said carefully, “is recently divorced. Her ex-husband… was a shadow master. From the Wedge Grove area down south.”

Wedge Grove.

I sat back. That was rare magic. I’d read about it in one of the tomes at the cottage. The charms were old and specialized. Most people wouldn’t even hear about that kind of training unless they were born into it or recruited by the wrong sorts.

“She told someone this?” I asked.

“Mentioned it to one of the kitchen sprites in passing,” Twobble said. “Didn’t think anything of it. Just said she was here to start over. That her ex twisted shadows the way some men twist words.”

That sank in.

It made a sort of bitter sense. If she had lived with someone who practiced shadowcraft for long enough, she’d know the signs. Maybe even unintentionally carried the residue of it. Shadows followed grief and broken things. And divorce…Well, I knew firsthand how that cracked you open.

“And Mys?” I asked.

“No one’s sure about her background,” he said. “Krina’s the one who actually wanted her here. The records list her as a guest with limited access. But they’re always together. One shadow. Two sets of eyes.”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure of their intentions.”

I stared into the fire, letting that settle. The guilt that had been simmering behind my ribs softened, just a little. Not because I wasn’t still worried, but because the shape of it changed. This didn’t feel like Gideon’s style. Not the way he moved. Not the way he worked.

Twobble leaned forward, reading my face. “You think Gideon is involved?”

“I don’t know what I think yet,” I said, though my gut had already loosened slightly. “But this… feels different.”

Behind me, the soft rustle of fabric announced Ardetia’s return. She stepped through the doorway like wind trailing a storm, arms folded neatly across her chest.

“Well?” she asked. “What is this about?”

“I don’t know, but I’m also dealing with an issue that may or may not involve shadow work.”

Her brows lifted. “Here?”

I nodded. “And it might be connected to what just happened.”

“Do you know which students?”

“Yes, and I think it’s time we spoke with them,” I said, standing. “But not with accusations.”

She raised a brow. “Explain.”

I crossed to the window, peering out at the faint shimmer of the Butterfly Ward. The sky was deepening, stained with the last of the day’s light.

“If what Twobble says is true, and I believe it is, then Krina came here to get away from something she barely escaped. And if her magic’s been touched by shadow, even just by proximity, then the Academy may have picked up on it.”

“The Academy may have defended itself,” Ardetia said. “Maybe the shadow was trying to get in.”

“Exactly.”

I turned back toward her, eyes steady.

“But if we come at this like we’re hunting something dangerous, we’ll lose them. I don’t want that. I want to help.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her silence said more than a dozen arguments.

“You disagree?” I asked.

“I think helping and preparing aren’t opposites,” she said calmly. “We proceed with care. And open eyes.”

“That,” I said, “I can agree with.”

She turned toward the door, already halfway into action. “I’ll get Nova.”

I watched her go, then turned back to Twobble.

“You did well.”

He blinked, startled. “I did?”

“You always do.”

He grinned so wide I thought he might burst.

“Now,” I added, “I need you to stay out of sight. Keep a watchful eye if you can, but don’t spook them. Sometimes you get a look in your eyes that makes people nervous.”

He stood up and gave a little bow. “Discreet is my middle name.”

I raised a brow. “It’s literally Grindle , Twobble.”

“Details,” he muttered, and vanished out the door like a puff of very opinionated steam.

I sat back in my chair for just a moment more, letting the stillness return.

Krina. Mys.

Sisters.

A shadowed past.

But maybe a chance for us to help someone start over.

We needed to handle this the right way.

We had to reach for understanding before we reached for judgment.

Because second chances were the foundation of this place, and maybe everything was unintentional.

And if we couldn’t offer that, then what were we doing here at all?

The corridor leading toward their wing was quiet, too quiet for this time of evening. Obviously, the chandelier incident spooked everyone.

And whether it was the Academy trying to protect itself and others or whether it was a shadow attempting to cause harm, I didn’t know.

But one step at a time.

Classes had let out, dinner was in full swing in the great hall, and even the book sprites had gone eerily still in the nearby library shelves.

I heard footsteps and walked with Twobble and my dad down the hall until I met everyone.

Nova walked on my left, her stride purposeful and her eyes scanning every sconce, every shift in shadow. Ardetia flanked my right, gliding without sound, her presence calm but coiled, like she’d already thought through five different ways this could go wrong.

“There was no structural damage to the Academy,” Nova informed me.

“Good. Now the question is, did the Academy drop the chandelier, or did someone else in hopes of hurting students?” I asked.

“Or faculty,” Nova replied.

“When we get there, I don’t want this to feel like a confrontation,” I explained.

Nova snorted. “We brought Ardetia. That ship’s sailed.”

“I’m standing right here,” Ardetia murmured.

“She knows,” Nova replied.

I didn’t bother hiding my smile. “We’re not here to scare them.”

“We’re here to find out what they’re hiding,” Nova said. “If anything.”

I nodded. “But we’re going in as caretakers. Not guards.”

We turned the corner into one of the older halls, still bearing the deep oak trim and slightly uneven flagstones from the Academy’s earliest days. It had a lived-in feel where secrets gathered like dust in corners.

Krina and Mys weren’t in their assigned dorm tonight. They were here , in a small study room just off the back alcove.

And that, in itself, was a decision worth noticing.

“They picked a quiet corner,” I said, pausing in front of the old wooden door. “No one walks this wing at night.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone who doesn’t want to be heard.”

Or someone who’s used to hiding, I thought.

I reached for the handle but paused, looking back at both of them.

“Let me go first.”

Nova looked like she wanted to protest. Ardetia said nothing, but I felt her gaze settle heavily on me.

“I need to do this as me ,” I said. “Not as Headmistress. Not with backup.”

Nova crossed her arms. “We’re not going far.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

With that, I turned the handle and slipped inside.

The door creaked open into a softly lit study. The smell of steeped rosemary and beeswax filled the space, and the glow of a single lamp illuminated the two women seated at the old wooden table.

They looked up the moment I stepped in.

Krina, dark-haired, still as a lake before rain, watched me with wary eyes. Mys, braid over one shoulder and a half-bitten apple in hand, didn’t flinch but didn’t smile either.

I closed the door behind me.

“Good evening,” I said gently. “I’m Maeve.”

“We know who you are,” Mys said. Her voice was casual, but there was a flicker of tension under it.

Krina said nothing.

“I came to talk,” I said. “Not accuse. Not threaten. Just talk.”

Mys exchanged a glance with her sister. Krina’s hand rested on a small leather-bound book in front of her, one finger pressed into a page as if she were keeping her place in a memory.

“I understand you’ve kept to yourselves,” I said. “I also hear you might have good reason to.”

“We didn’t break any rules,” Krina said quietly.

“I know,” I replied. “I’m not here because you broke anything.”

Mys tilted her head. “Then why are you here?”

I walked slowly toward the table and took the chair opposite them, keeping my movements calm. No force. No edge. Just presence.

“I think you came here for the same reason many of us do,” I said. “To start again. To find out what pieces are still yours after someone else tried to take them.”

Neither of them responded right away.

But neither of them denied it.

I glanced down at the table. The book Krina had been holding was a spell ledger. Old. Not Academy-issued.

“Krina,” I said softly, “we know your former partner was a shadow master.”

Her fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the page.

“We heard as much from someone you spoke with,” I continued. “We’re not angry about that. But there are signs, shifts in the wards, shadow magic traced along the edges of your presence, that raised concern.”

“Not ours ,” Mys snapped. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I believe you,” I said, and I meant it.

Krina finally spoke again, eyes fixed on mine. “I came here to forget what it felt like to live in a house where the walls watched me breathe. Where silence was a weapon. I came here to feel safe. Not to stir up old ghosts.”

“I understand,” I said. “But old ghosts don’t like being forgotten.”

She looked down. “We didn’t summon anything.”

“No. But the Academy felt something trailing behind you. And it tried to protect itself.”

Mys leaned forward now, arms folded. “So what now? You cast us out? Run us off because of something we didn’t ask for?”

“No,” I said. “We help you. If you’ll let us.”

They both stared.

“I want to track the residue. See what’s still clinging to you, and where it’s leaking,” I said. “Not to punish you. To shield you. If something followed you here, we’ll find it. And we’ll deal with it together. ”

Silence fell.

For a moment, I thought they might refuse.

But then Krina let out a slow breath and whispered, “I didn’t think anyone would care, so we were going to handle this ourselves tonight.”

I reached across the table, resting my hand beside hers.

Relief spread through me as I thought back to what I heard earlier in the library. There was no nefarious plan to take me down or ruin the Academy. They just wanted to protect themselves.

I smiled. “We care. This Academy doesn’t ask you to be perfect. Just honest.”

Mys swallowed, looking down at the tabletop. “Then you should know… I think it’s him. I think he found a way to mark her. I think he wants her to come back.”

My stomach turned.

But I didn’t flinch.

“Then we’ll make sure she never has to.”

And I meant it.