Page 30

The loft above the library was warm and quiet, lit by charmed, flameless lanterns.

It was where I went when things were too delicate for the main hall, but I needed a neutral space.

And this was one of those times. From the moment I spoke to Celeste and Skye, I’d been feeling nothing but turmoil. The conflict in me rattled every part of me.

Perhaps if I felt more solid in my magic, I wouldn’t be so worried about two people I cherished roaming around Stonewick while Gideon tampered with our Wards.

But the truth of it was that just because I was the headmistress, it didn’t mean I was all that great at magic. I was still coming into my own.

Stella, Nova, and Ardetia were already there when I arrived. Stella poured tea like she always did, her hands steady, her shawl a deep forest green today, and her scarlet lips perfectly lined.

Nova leaned against the wall near the banister, arms crossed, eyes tracking me with calm precision. And Ardetia sat at the edge of the curved bench near the window, fingers resting lightly on the carved armrest, her posture as still as a spell about to unfold.

I shut the door behind me, heart heavier than it had been all day.

“We need to talk about Celeste,” I said.

That was all it took.

Nova straightened. Ardetia’s eyes narrowed slightly. Stella, of course, just handed me a cup of tea and said nothing—for now.

“She wants to come for spring break,” I continued. “She doesn’t know anything about the magic here, or me, or the Wards. But she just wants to come home to me. And I… I want to say yes.”

There was silence for a long moment.

Then Nova spoke. “We agreed before that we couldn’t afford family or visitors until Gideon is dealt with. Preferably, when the curse is broken.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

“And that hasn’t changed,” she added.

“It has,” I said, voice firmer now. “Not because the danger is gone. But because the timeline is longer than I thought.”

Ardetia tilted her head. “You believed this would be resolved by spring?”

“I was new to the magic world, and I didn’t understand how deeply woven shadows and curses were within our community.

” I sighed. “I now know we could be fighting this for much longer,” I said.

“And if I wait for everything to be safe and quiet and perfectly stitched together… I’ll be waiting forever. ”

Stella finally spoke, voice low. “Is this just about missing her?”

I looked at her. “Isn’t that enough?”

She gave a slow nod, like she hadn’t expected the answer but respected it.

“I’m not saying we open the gates,” I added quickly. “I’m certainly not saying she stays in the Academy. But I have a cottage. We can charm it. I can put up layers she’ll never notice.”

“You want her close,” Nova said. “But shielded.”

“Yes.”

Ardetia watched me for a long moment. “You would risk her safety?”

“No.” My answer was immediate, and the force behind it surprised even me. “I wouldn’t bring her here if I thought she was in direct danger. But I also can’t keep her out of my life while I wait for a shadow I haven’t caught yet.”

Stella stirred her tea slowly. “That sounds like a woman who’s decided.”

“It sounds like a woman trying to be both headmistress and mother.” I paused. “I didn’t come here asking for permission. I came because I trust you. And I want your help.”

Ardetia glanced at Nova. “We’d need to extend the perimeter.”

“I already started a new set of tethers around the cottage after the last incident,” Nova murmured. “They could be reinforced. Karvey seemed to think they were about finished.”

“We can tie them into the other wards, with neutral filtering,” Ardetia said. “Enough to sense intrusion without triggering it. Subtle.”

“Doable?” Stella asked.

They both nodded.

“She wouldn’t know anything,” I said. “I’d keep the Academy separate. No glimpses. No magical tutoring. Just tea and firewood and the illusion of normalcy for a couple of days.”

“And your friend?” Nova asked.

My eyebrows lifted.

“Skye,” she said simply.

I exhaled. “She wants to come too.”

Stella looked delighted. “I love her. She’s feisty. She didn’t even flinch when I joked we could eat her.”

“She is. And she’d bring a heck of a presence, but she doesn’t know anything either.”

“You’re going to be walking a fine line,” Ardetia said.

“I already am,” I said. “Every day.”

The room was quiet again.

Then Stella stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Let her come to the cottage,” she said gently. “Let them both come. But let us help make it safe.”

Nova followed, nodding. “We’ll need to start tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Ardetia’s gaze softened, just slightly. “And here I thought you brought us here to celebrate because of the shimmer we sealed.”

My eyes widened, and I stared at Ardetia, then at Bella and Nova.

“What? You sealed it?”

Nova smiled. “We did. Turns out, it was indeed opened by someone from the inside, and where it led was…”

My heart pounded. Had it been a student? Gideon? A spy?

“Where it led was…?” I prompted with my hands.

Ardetia knelt down. “To you.”

“What are you saying?” Dread filled me.

“You opened realms without realizing it. I’d call it part of the learning curve.” Ardetia set her hands on my knee. “No harm was done.”

“But I don’t understand. How can I do that if I don’t even know how or why or what or…”

I’d been in the Hedge. I’d felt someone there.

“You have the power to merge realms, to open them, and to close them.” Ardetia let out a deep breath. “You can use them for discovery, for witnessing, and hiding.”

“Or apparently scaring myself and everyone around me.” I shook my head. “So, how did I do that? Was it because I was in the Butterfly Ward at the Hedge there?”

“If you didn’t fully close the opening, it could have left residue, and then as your thoughts grew louder within the Academy, it could have tried to open itself.”

“Could I have let someone in doing that?”

“Highly unlikely,” Nova answered.

“I just…” I shook my head. “My magic feels so dangerous at times. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and worse yet, I don’t even know that I’m doing it.”

I thought back to sending the one-finger salute to my ex, turning him into a dog, and now bringing a shimmer into the Academy.

“You will get there,” Nova assured me. “It’s not your fault. You're learning and absorbing things so quickly that there’s bound to be mix-ups.”

I didn’t know if she meant it as comfort or a warning.

Maybe it was both.

But as I looked at the three women around me, each powerful in their own right, each ready to protect what mattered, and I felt something settle inside me.

Not relief.

But resolve.

The door creaked open with dramatic flair, and no knock was made whatsoever.

Twobble entered.

He stood in the doorway like he’d caught us plotting something, which, to be fair, we were. He clutched a clipboard in one hand, a half-eaten biscuit in the other, and looked entirely unimpressed.

“Let me guess,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You’re either taking over the goblin tunnels or making a different, really questionable decision.”

“Come in,” I said dryly. “And it’s the second one. According to you.”

He marched in, muttering under his breath, and climbed onto the too-tall bench with exaggerated effort. His feet didn’t reach the floor, but he crossed his arms anyway and polished off his food.

“Fantastic. I love being included in dangerous nonsense after it’s halfway done.”

Stella handed him a second biscuit without a word. He took it, sniffed it suspiciously, and bit into it like a goblin reluctantly accepting his fate.

“I assume this has to do with your daughter,” he said through a mouthful of crumbs.

“She’s coming for a quick visit.”

He stared at me, blinking once. “Absolutely not.”

“Twobble—”

“Denied. Declined. Rejected. Return to sender.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know the plan yet.”

“Oh, I know enough,” Twobble said, pointing the biscuit at me like a wand. “You’re going to smother the cottage in protective spells, swear she’ll be fine, and then next thing you know, a gargoyle explodes and we’re summoning tree spirits to calm down a traumatized teenager.”

“That only happened once,” Stella said mildly.

I eyed Stella. “Gargoyles can explode?”

“It takes a lot,” Stella assured me.

Twobble wiggled his finger. “Once is too many times.”

I sighed. “Twobble, we’re being careful. We’ll use every Ward we have. She’ll stay in the cottage and we’ll reveal no magic. Just watch movies, rest, and enjoy a cup of tea. Maybe take a walk if the weather’s nice.”

He huffed, crossing his arms tightly. “Look, I get it. You miss her. You want normal. You want to braid your old life and your new one into something you can live inside without fraying. But this place?” He pointed to the floor.

“It isn’t normal. And we haven’t rooted out the danger yet.

Bringing her here is like planting daisies in a fire circle. ”

“She’s not coming to the Academy,” I said. “Just the cottage. With shielding. With Karvey and the other gargoyles watching the perimeter.”

Twobble looked unconvinced. “Karvey is a delight, but he also naps like it’s a second job. Gargoyles need to perch , not babysit.”

“They’re more than capable,” I said firmly. “And they’d never let anything past them…not with Celeste there. They’ll guard her like she’s their own.”

“She’s not their own,” Twobble said, softer now. “She’s yours. ”

That quieted me.

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” he continued.

“But we’ve faced enough weird already. Gideon is still out there.

A shimmer surfaced out of the blue. That box you found still hasn’t fully revealed what it’s holding, and meanwhile, you want to invite your daughter into a place where the curse is still active? ”

“It’s not about denial,” I said, barely more than a whisper. “It’s about... living. I don’t want to put my life on pause waiting for a darkness I can’t predict. And I don’t want her to think I’ve disappeared from hers.”

I thought back to Grandma Elira and how she missed my dad’s childhood and beyond.

The silence that followed was heavier than it had been before.

Even Stella had gone quiet, her teacup halfway to her lips.

Twobble didn’t blink. “You want my support.”

“Yes,” I said honestly. “Because I trust you. Because you see things the rest of us don’t. And because you’d tell me the truth.”

He stared at me for another long beat.

Then climbed down from the bench with a dramatic sigh, brushing crumbs from his coat.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” he muttered.

“Try me.”

He looked up, eyes sharper now. Not angry. Not even stubborn.

Just... steady.

“Would you ever forgive yourself,” he asked quietly, “if something happened to her?”

My breath caught.

The room went still.

Even the fire seemed to soften.

He didn’t say it with judgment.

He said it like a friend.

A guardian.

Someone who knew the weight of grief, not because he carried it, but because he’d seen it in others and vowed never to let it reach me.

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Because that was the only question that mattered.

And the only one I had an answer for.