Page 27

Morning unfurled across Stonewick like a quilt being pulled over sleepy shoulders. Sunlight dappled through mostly bare-limbed trees, feeling like spring had finally gathered the courage to knock.

The air still held a bite, but it was the kind that made cheeks pink and eyes bright, not the kind that bit into bone and reminded a person it was a Midwest ice storm.

And the students? They looked transformed .

They spilled from the Academy’s gates in pairs and trios, colorful scarves fluttering and boots clattering down the cobbled path, already pointing to things like they’d never seen a town before.

Which, I supposed, in this context, they hadn’t.

They’d seen life.

They’d seen struggle.

They’d raised children, buried dreams, paid taxes, and made soup in houses that never once asked them to believe in magic again.

But this?

This was different.

Stonewick was alive in a way few towns ever were. Sure, tourists enjoyed it from a superficial lens, but there was something different once magical folk entered the streets.

Magic drifted here in open windows and sat in teacups. It hummed beneath moss-covered roofs and lingered in the scent of cinnamon and dried lavender. And now, it belonged to them.

Stella stood outside her shop in her flowing scarlet coat and a hat covered in enchanted spoons, grinning like a queen ready to welcome her court.

“Ladies!” she cried, arms wide. “Come in, come in, I’ve already set the kettles to gossip.”

The students giggled, delighted, even as one muttered, “Does she mean the tea is gossiping or that we’re supposed to?”

“Both,” I called, and they laughed again.

Keegan appeared beside me then, hands in his coat pockets, his pace easy, unhurried. “You look pleased.”

“I am pleased,” I said honestly, watching as three students burst into Stella’s shop with the kind of reverence usually reserved for ancient temples or bookstores with hidden doors. “I needed this.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I thought you might.”

We fell into step together as we moved further down the cobblestone stretch, the town slowly blinking into morning around us. A new bakery opened up down the road, and the baker’s cat was sunning itself on the windowsill.

“Oh, we need to make some candles,” one of the students exclaimed to her new friend as a set of wind chimes above the candlemaker’s door played a familiar lullaby.

“Are we allowed to pretend everything’s fine?” I asked, half-smiling.

“Just for today,” Keegan said, looking down at me with something softer than usual. “Tomorrow, we can hunt whatever shadow is misbehaving. But today?”

“Tea,” I said.

“And yarn,” he added, nodding toward Luna’s shop, where a few students were already hesitantly stepping into the doorway like they were afraid the wool might eat them.

One of them, a sprightly woman with curls the color of stormclouds, gave an audible gasp as she picked up a skein that twinkled in four different colors depending on how you looked at it.

“This one just called me darling ,” she told the others, stunned.

“That means it likes you,” said Luna, appearing like a phantom between shelves.

“Wait, you heard it too?” someone asked.

Keegan and I shared a glance, and I grinned. “Should we warn them?”

“Nah,” he said. “Let them discover the disappearing skeins on their own.”

We walked further, down to the bridge that arched over the half-frozen stream just before the edge of town, and I paused, my hand brushing the railing.

The moment was still as light glistened off the water’s edge, and behind us, the students were laughing, clinking cups, and debating whether or not enchanted soap would ruin the Academy’s plumbing.

“I love it here,” I whispered.

Keegan didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I know.”

I turned to face him, and there it was again… that look.

The one he never tried to disguise but didn’t rush to explain.

Like he was waiting for me to be ready.

“I keep thinking,” I said slowly, “that this might be taken away. That it’s too good, so something has to crack it open and ruin it.”

His brow furrowed. “You think joy needs a reason to last?”

“No,” I said. “I just… have a habit of watching joy turn into loss and of bracing for the moment it does.”

“Then let’s stand in the joy,” he said simply. “For as long as it lets us.”

My breath caught as I looked into Keegan’s eyes, as something felt like roots growing in the right place.

He stepped closer, and our arms brushed, and suddenly the cold didn’t bite.

And the shadows didn’t press in.

And the circle, bent or not, was quiet and connected.

Just for now.

“Do you ever wonder about the future?” I asked, feeling his gaze on me.

“Always.”

“And?”

“I hope it always includes you.”

His words hit me in a way that I hadn’t felt in years.

“Do you always know what to say?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn’t have said that,” he said, laughing.

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “Because…”

“Because why?”

He shook his head and let out a sigh. “No reason.”

“You always show up saying the right thing when I’m convincing myself I don’t need to wonder.”

“About?”

“Us.”

Keegan smiled, stepping closer. “That’s because I’ve got impeccable timing. And a sixth sense for when you’re pretending you’ve got it all under control.”

I rolled my eyes.. “I do have it all under control.”

He leaned in, voice low and full of warmth. “Then why does your pulse always jump when I’m this close?”

I arched a brow, trying not to smile. “Because you’re invading my personal space, wolf man.”

He grinned. “Or maybe you like the way I fill it.”

“I’ll never tell.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I believe that.”

The bell above Luna’s door gave its soft, silvery chime down the street.

“Should we wander back?” I asked.

“Probably or we’ll get ourselves in trouble.”

I didn’t say anything, but I reveled in the thought.

We walked slowly toward the yarn shop, everything between us remaining unsaid.

Keegan and I stepped inside, trailing the last of the midlife students who had all but emptied the baskets near the front counter.

Colorful skeins lay piled like small clouds in their arms. Moody storm-grays, blush-toned pinks, enchanted blues that sparkled when touched by sunlight promised beautiful creations by novice and experienced witches alike.

The shop smelled of cedar, wool, and rose tea, and it brought me right back to my first time inside with Skye.

The moment I noticed a scarf trying to fold and put itself back on a shelf…

“I knew they’d love it,” I murmured.

Keegan gave a low chuckle.

Luna stood behind the counter, her hair pulled into a long braid draped over one shoulder. Her fingers moved deftly over a skein she was winding into a tidy ball, but her eyes lingered on the students as they began to head out, laughing, clutching bags and promises to return.

She smiled, but there was a wistfulness tucked beneath it, like a bookmark slipped deep into a well-loved page.

“They’re lovely,” she said, finally looking up at me. “Confident in all the ways I don’t think they realize. It’s a good thing the Academy is back.”

“It seems to be good for business, too,” I said, nodding toward the now half-empty display shelves.

Luna gave a quiet laugh. “You’re not wrong. Twenty sign-ups for yarn arts in the last two days. I’ve barely had time to restock.”

“Twenty?” I blinked. “That’s—Luna, that’s incredible!”

“It is,” she agreed softly, winding the yarn with mechanical ease. “I’ve added beginner and intermediate offerings. I think they want to weave something tangible while the rest of their magic’s still waking up.”

I was about to agree when Keegan wandered toward the front window to inspect an enchanted display of socks that danced in a slow, looping pattern. Luna’s eyes followed him for a moment, then she let out a long breath.

It wasn’t the tired kind of sigh. It was heavy.

When I turned back to Luna, her fingers had stilled on the yarn.

“Maeve,” she said quietly. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” I said, my voice dropping without thinking.

She glanced at Keegan again, then leaned forward slightly, like the words didn’t want to come out unless she made space for them.

“I’m jealous of them,” she said. “The students.”

I blinked. “Jealous?”

She nodded, then gave a small, brittle laugh. “Isn’t that ridiculous? I’m surrounded by color and wool and magic and… all I could think watching them today was, I need that, too. ”

“Luna,” I started, confused. “But I’ve seen you work magic. At the battle, you—”

“Fundamentals,” she interrupted gently. “That’s all it was. Protection charms I learned as a girl, combined with a little charmed yarn. Bits of old spells my grandmother whispered into my braids while I knitted by the fire. Things that stuck.”

Her eyes dropped to the yarn in her hands. “I never studied. Never trained. My family, goddess bless them, made sure I knew I wasn’t gifted enough to waste resources on proper magical schooling. I was the practical one. The safe one. The one who made things with her hands and stayed behind.”

“But Luna,” I said, voice quiet, “what you did, what you do, it is magic. And watching you that day at the cottage, weaving the traps with the yarn helped us win against Shadowick.”

She looked up at me with a sad sort of smile. “You know that. But I don’t. Not fully. Not like you do. Or Keegan. Or Nova or Bella. When I cast, it’s instinct. But when something deeper stirs, I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I know the feeling. I really do.” I stepped closer, leaning against the counter. “Why haven’t you mentioned anything before?”

“I didn’t want to take up space,” she admitted. “Not while you were rediscovering yours.”

I shook my head slowly, heart aching a little. “You belong in this. You always have.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, her voice cracking a touch.

“The students asked me to teach, Maeve. Not just the fiber arts. A few asked if I could enchant their shawls for protection or stitch warmth into a traveling cloak. I said yes because it felt right , but… I’m scared I won’t be enough.

I feel as if I should be a student, not a teacher. ”

Keegan returned then, hands in his coat pockets, and sensed something in our posture. He didn’t interrupt, just leaned against the counter.

I turned back to Luna.

“Then we’ll learn together,” I said. “You, me, the students. No hierarchy. No expectations. Just curiosity and care.”

Luna blinked once, and I caught the glassy sheen in her eyes before she gave a small, watery laugh. “I forgot how good you are at saying the thing someone needs.”

“I’m learning to listen better,” I said, smiling. “That helps.”

We stood together for a few moments longer as the last student peeked back in with a thank-you and a bright smile, their arms loaded with yarn and hope.

I looked at Luna. “I have a feeling that what you’re feeling is a pull to the Academy.”

“You do?”

I nodded.

Luna took a breath and said, “Maybe this is where I begin again.”

I touched her hand gently. “Maybe it always was.”

She smiled and looked as if a weight had been lifted. “Hope to see you around the Academy soon.”

“Absolutely.”

As we walked outside, the air was gentler than it had been earlier, softened by sunlight slipping through a patchwork of early spring clouds. The wind had stilled. The streets of Stonewick hummed quietly, like the town itself was content with the day’s turnout.

I exhaled. “She should be a student.”

He glanced sideways. “Luna?”

“She’s got the instinct. The feel. She wants it, even if she doesn’t know how to say it aloud.” I tucked my hands into the sleeves of my cloak. “She’s always belonged in the Academy, Keegan.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” he said.

I gave him a look. “I didn’t need it.”

“Didn’t say you needed it.” He stepped a little closer. “I said you belonged.”

I tried not to let the heat rise too obviously to my cheeks.

He held my gaze for a beat too long. The smile tugging at his mouth didn’t help.

“You belong in Stonewick, at the Academy, and…” He cleared his throat and looked away briefly. “You belong with someone who gets you.”

“Like who?” My brows lifted.

“Me, obviously.”

“Are you…flirting?” I asked, voice lighter than I expected.

He leaned in just slightly. “Maeve, if I were flirting, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but whatever clever thing I might’ve said vanished under the weight of the way he looked at me . Like I was the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

And maybe, I didn’t want him to stop.

The space between us twinkled, not magically, just in that way charged things do. His shoulder brushed mine. His hand drifted a little too close to mine, and I didn’t move.

“I was going to head back to the Academy,” I murmured. “Check on the disturbance…”

He cut in gently. “Stay.”

The word caught me off guard.

He glanced up the lane. “Everyone’s in town. It’s already dinner hour. You’ve got a moment to breathe, and I’m inviting you to use it.”

“For what?”

His smile turned slow. “Dinner. Just you and me. Not a meeting. Not a crisis. Just… us.”

Something in me steadied.

Yet, I couldn’t help but think about the shimmer, the orb, the circle, all still waiting.

But so was this.

I nodded. “Dinner.”

And the way he smiled at me was a promise of warmth I wasn’t ready to turn down.