Page 47

The sunlight slipped through the cottage windows in glimmering stripes, warming the quilt at the end of the bed and casting gentle patterns across the floor.

The birds were louder than usual this morning, trilling and chatting in a kind of feathered gossip, as if they too had sensed that Stonewick was shifting, becoming more alive, more seen .

By the time Celeste, Skye, and I left the cottage and made our way into town, the cobbled streets were already buzzing with life.

Far more than usual. Banners fluttered above the storefronts in a breeze that carried the scent of honeyed pastries and woodsmoke.

It wasn’t a market day, but it may as well have been as midlife students in their layered cloaks and mismatched stockings bustled from shop to shop, their eyes wide, their voices bubbling with excitement.

“This is adorable ,” Celeste said, practically skipping beside me. “I love that this whole town does cosplay, even in daylight. That one’s even got a staff with a crystal on top!”

I glanced at the woman she pointed to. Talia, a student from the Firetrack cohort who actually had once accidentally set her socks aflame during a minor spellcasting mishap, or so I heard. The crystal-topped staff was real, and she was learning how to use it with terrifying enthusiasm.

“They really commit here,” I said lightly, smiling. It took everything in me not to explain that it wasn’t cosplay, not a themed weekend, not an immersive retreat. These weren’t actors. They were witches. Mages. Fae. But Celeste wasn’t ready for that truth. Not yet.

Skye paused outside a bakery window and peered in. “I remember coming here with you in the fall,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “It was cute then, but this? This is like someone turned the volume up on fantasy.”

She turned toward me, eyes scanning the bustling crowd. “It’s busier now, though. I thought everyone left after the season ended.”

I shrugged, forcing an easy smile. “Word’s gotten out. Hidden gems don’t stay hidden forever.”

We rounded the bend onto Moonspindle Lane, where shops curved together like friends leaning in for a secret.

The floral vines on the buildings were starting to bud with the first flush of green, and the scent of blooming lemon balm wafted from the planters hanging under the windows.

We crossed the street and hit Main Street, where we reached the tea shop.

Stella’s place.

It sat right on the corner, as if it had grown there, the deep green door carved with swirling vine work, and the windows fogged with warmth from within. A wooden sign hung slightly crooked, painted in gold, Infusions, Brews & Slightly Illegal Spells

Celeste paused, her eyes wide. “This place is perfect. No wonder you work here.”

I pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by the scent of cardamom and black tea and something vaguely citrusy, one of Stella’s new blends, probably. The clink of cups and quiet chatter wrapped around us like a familiar shawl.

But it wasn’t Stella behind the counter.

A woman my age stood there instead, flushed with purpose and proudly wearing one of Stella’s embroidered aprons.

Her auburn curls bounced as she moved between customers, pouring with confidence, answering questions with the kind of cheerful authority that only comes from a few weeks of apprenticeship and a healthy fear of disappointing Stella.

I noticed her curls hung just right over her ears, hiding the fact that she was fae.

“Oh,” I said with a grin. “Looks like someone’s on shift.”

The student noticed me and waved brightly. “Headmistress Maeve!”

Skye turned sharply. “Headmistress?”

I coughed. “Long story.”

Celeste raised a brow. “Is this where you’ve been working?”

I nodded. “Off and on. Stella needed help when things got busy, and… I needed the quiet.”

“What kind of tea would you like?” I asked.

Celeste scanned the menu and her eyes skidded to a stop. “I’ll take the Calmora tea.”

“What?”

“Calmora? Isn’t that how you pronounce it?”

“We’re out of it.”

She crinkled her brows. “You sure?”

“Positive. Maybe it will be in stock next time,” I added.

“Try the Abracadabra tea,” Skye offered. “That’s what I had, and I loved it. I’ll take it again.”

“Oh, okay.” Celeste looked disappointed, and I hated to lie…

But Calmora? That’s what got me here in the first place. And I remember Stella telling me nobody ever chooses it unless…

I shoved the thoughts away and went up to order the tea. I couldn’t wait to tell Stella what just happened. Celeste and Calmora? It was like history repeating itself, only she was twenty years younger.

They didn’t ask for details, which was both a blessing and a warning that more questions were still to come.

We found an empty table near the window, right beside a wall of mismatched teacups hanging on antique hooks. The cozy hum of the room settled into my bones like a calming spell, and I realized how badly I’d needed to sit in this very chair, with these two women, in this safe little bubble.

Our tea was delivered, along with a lemon scone for Celeste, and I finally let out a deep breath.

“I get it now,” Celeste said after a sip of tea. “Why you stayed. It’s peaceful here. Kind of magical.”

Skye gave her a side glance. “Kind of? I’m two sips away from believing I can read fortunes in biscotti crumbs.”

They laughed, and I smiled too, letting the moment linger. Because even though the streets outside were now filled with witches in dragon-scaled cloaks and fae with twigs in their hair, for now, Celeste and Skye only saw the charm. And for now, that was enough.

“Mind if we head out?” Celeste asked.

“Not at all.” I grabbed my tea, and they followed out the door.

“Sometimes,” she said, licking a bit of lemon glaze off her thumb as we walked down the cobblestone lane, “I wonder if I can, like... see the future.”

Celeste’s voice was light, teasing, but something about the words twisted quietly into my spine.

I stopped mid-step.

Skye, walking just ahead of us, paused to admire a cart of lavender bunches, leaving Celeste and me briefly alone in the narrow strip of spring light. The air smelled like rising bread and morning dew clinging to windowpanes.

I turned to look at her, trying to gauge her expression. She was grinning. But not wide enough to be entirely joking.

“Oh?” I said, in a light tone.

She shrugged. “Yeah, like... I’ll dream something weird and then boom, a week later it happens. Not anything dramatic. Mostly stuff like I knew you were going to call me or I had a feeling my bus would be late . Stuff like that.”

I forced a chuckle, but inside, my blood had gone cold.

“And here I thought I was the only psychic in the family,” I joked.

She snorted. “Well, certainly wouldn’t be on Dad’s side. That gene pool’s biggest mystery is why everyone insists on wearing socks with sandals.”

I did laugh at that, too loud and too grateful for the break in tension.

But then Skye turned around, beaming. “Well, it’s a true skill. What was that lady's name? Nelly or…Nova. That was it. Nova.”

My eyes widened as I waited for the next bit.

Skye turned to face Celeste. “When I brought your mom here, we went to a seer.” She pointed across the road. “Right across the street, and the woman told me I was pregnant before I even had a clue.”

“No way.”

Skye nodded. “Yes, way.”

“Mom, can we go check it out?”

My chest tightened. “Um. She might be closed since it’s the weekend.”

Celeste grabbed my wrist and pulled me. “Let’s go see. The weekend is probably when she makes all her money.”

“Fair point,” I said.

But my mind was spinning. Did she mean it? Was Celeste testing me? Did she know her own powers?

Was she a hedge witch too?

Skye rejoined us with a bundle of dried lavender in hand, chatting about sending it back home for baby bath sachets, and I let the subject drop, though the words I wonder if I can see the future echoed in my ears long after.

We were just crossing the street toward Nova’s store when I caught motion across the street.

Keegan.

He’d just exited the inn, hands in his pockets, looking rumpled in that annoyingly attractive way he had, like the wind tried to flirt with him on the way out the door. When he spotted us, his eyes lit with something warm and steady.

He jogged across the street with an ease that made Skye pause mid-sentence.

“Wow,” she whispered to me. “Is that...?”

“Yes,” I muttered. “That’s Keegan.”

“He looks even better in the daylight.” Skye wiggled her brows.

“Don’t tell him. He doesn’t need it going to his head.”

Keegan slowed as he reached us, casting a grin toward Skye and Celeste. “Morning, ladies.”

Celeste blinked. “Morning.”

“Celeste wants to go see Nova, but I was worried her shop is closed.”

Keegan arched a brow, amused, but clearly catching my worry. “Last I checked, she’s closed up until later. She’s wandering the river path right now.”

Celeste looked disappointed.

“But maybe later?” I asked my daughter, who looked happier to hear that.

“Let’s head over to Luna’s,” I said quickly, guiding us toward the cozy storefront with its blue-painted door and cheerful hanging baskets bursting with violets and creeping thyme.

“I’ll walk with you,” Keegan offered, slipping easily into step beside me.

Celeste glanced at me sideways. “Weren’t you making me a scarf?”

I smiled, grateful for the shift. “Still am.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s been, like, three months.”

“You can’t rush perfection,” I said sweetly. “Besides, it’s going to be spectacular. You’ll see.”

We stepped inside Luna’s shop and were immediately wrapped in the scent of wool and rosewater, the comforting murmur of soft music, and the rainbow blur of yarn skeins lining every shelf and corner.

“Wow,” Celeste breathed. “It’s like walking into a cloud that went to art school.”

Luna popped up from behind the counter, her arms full of yarn and her hair in a swooping bun pinned with knitting needles. “Maeve! And guests! I see you found your mom’s cottage.”

Celeste looked around, wide-eyed, already reaching out to touch a shelf of pale lilac yarn. But just as she did, her gaze shifted and locked on something more profound in the room.

A sweater.

Knitting itself.

It floated midair, needles clicking rhythmically, yarn unraveling from a ball that rolled slightly as the work progressed.

Celeste stared.

Then blinked.

“Did that...”

I shot Luna a look.

Luna, to her credit, didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, you noticed! That’s our timed demonstration motion-activated display. New shop feature! We’re testing it to see how long it’ll keep customers’ attention.”

Celeste blinked again. “It looked so real. ”

“It’s animatronics,” I added quickly. “Luna’s husband used to work with tiny motors. Very lifelike.”

Keegan coughed, clearly trying not to laugh. I shot him a glare.

Celeste nodded slowly, but her brow furrowed, like her instincts didn’t fully buy it. Still, she let it go. For now.

Luna swept in like a breeze.

“I’ve got some cashmere that wants to meet you,” she said to Celeste, leading her deeper into the shop with the kind of cheerful distraction only a thread witch could manage.

Skye followed, humming and holding her belly, her eyes dreamy as she drifted toward a wall of mossy greens.

Keegan leaned close, voice low. “That was... close.”

“Too close,” I said, pulse still tapping beneath my ribs.

He gave me a look, one I’d come to know far too well.

“She’s sharp,” he said eventually. “Smart. She’s already asking questions.”

“I know,” I whispered. “And every answer I give is a lie.”

He put a hand on my shoulder, warm and steady. “You’re doing your best.”

“I just don’t know how long my best will keep her safe.”

Because the sweater wasn’t the only thing unraveling.

The veil between my worlds was thinning, and Celeste was standing right on the seam.

And seams?

They tear.