Page 5

Organizing the chaos that had exploded in the courtyard proved to be more complicated than I’d expected.

I had imagined some sort of smooth, inspirational speech, which kind of happened.

Then I figured I’d usher everyone inside, and they’d obediently file to their dorms, maybe humming a cheerful tune as they went.

Instead, it was more like herding cats.

Magical cats. Cats who argued about which wing they belonged in. Cats who didn’t want to leave their satchels behind because someone might hex their underpants and give them the itchies in the nether regions.

I didn’t want to ask why that was of concern, so instead, I just stared at Nova, who was diligently conjuring student placements for the dorms and handing out sheets of paper to each student conjured by the Academy because it knew more than I did.

Nova took it in stride, of course.

“You’re going to need more than a few rules, Headmistress.” Nova’s brows raised as she handed sheet after sheet out.

“Don’t call me that,” I groaned, already nursing the beginnings of a headache as a troll and a willowy elf debated over the acceptable volume for nighttime lute and harp practice.

“Too late,” Nova called in a sing-song voice, waving a glowing baton she’d summoned out of nowhere, while steering a group of nervous witches toward the East Dormitories.

My grandma nearly floated through the madness like it didn’t faze her at all, offering warm nods, the occasional gentle word, and somehow making even the grumpiest centaur bow politely in response.

And Ardetia… well, Ardetia was perched on a low-hanging branch like she’d been born there, casually twirling a blade of grass between her fingers, watching it all with a faintly amused, faintly aloof smile.

The fae obviously had a knack for watching and waiting.

“I suppose I’m the only one who finds this mildly terrifying?” I grumbled as I helped a shivering selkie balance an absurd number of books on her head.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t worried,” Grandma Elira said softly, falling into step beside me. “It means you care.”

I exhaled hard through my nose. “I just… I don’t want them to feel like they made a mistake coming here.”

“They won’t,” she assured me. “Trust them. And trust yourself.”

Easy for her to say.

She wasn’t the one being pulled into five conversations at once about blanket preferences, meal schedules, and whether or not the Academy allowed pet ferrets. Of course, the answer was yes.

I waved off another sprite trying to tangle itself in my hair and turned my attention to a group of students lingering near the Butterfly Garden.

It was the one area of the Academy that still shimmered with that strange, untouched magic I couldn’t quite explain, but it was one of the places I felt most connected.

The gals stood out from the crowd immediately.

Four women, all draped in rich, layered fabrics of velvet, lace, and silks in colors that caught the moonlight like they were stitched with stars, chatted softly among themselves.

Their laughter was low and melodic, the sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, though not in a bad way.

Just in a curious way.

I went over, brushing past a giggling trio of fae who’d somehow enchanted their shoes to squeak like geese, courtesy of one of their teenage sons who passed on the trick.

“Evening,” I greeted the four lavishly dressed women and flashed what I hoped was a friendly, headmistress-y smile. “You ladies settling in alright?”

They turned as one, reminding me of dancers in perfect sync.

The tallest, with a cascade of black curls and skin as pale as the moon, dipped her head.

“Indeed, Headmistress,” she said, her voice smooth as satin. “We were admiring the gardens. They have… a certain old-world charm.”

“Are you drawn to the old-world ways?” My brows lifted in amusement.

Their laughter was low and delighted.

She grinned and nodded. “More than you know.”

“I’m Maeve,” I added, handing them sheets of paper. “You’ll be in the wing overlooking the Butterfly Garden.”

The shorter one nodded. “The Butterfly Ward , you mean.”

“You know your Academy history.” I smiled and tipped my head in acknowledgement.

They exchanged glances, pleased.

“That suits us perfectly,” the taller one said, her sharp smile flashing. “We prefer the quieter corners.”

Something tickled at the back of my mind, a memory of cozy evenings at Stella’s tea shop, sipping honey-brew and gossiping over who was secretly dating whom as I tried to gather more intel on Keegan.

Stella would love these women, I thought with a smile.

They had the same sly, conspiratorial energy.

The same way of making you feel like you were being invited into a secret club.

And that’s when it hit me.

The way they didn’t blink quite enough.

The way they stood just slightly out of the torchlight.

The way one of them wore tall gloves, even though the air was no longer frigid.

At least one of them was a vamp.

I bit back my grin.

Well, why not?

The Academy was for everyone, wasn’t it?

Even the elegantly nocturnal.

They introduced themselves as they followed me toward the Academy doors.

The tall one was Lady Limora, and for some reason, Lady seemed fitting.

The short, sharp-smiled one was Mara.

Vivienne was the one in deep purple velvet, with silver hair falling like silk down her back.

And the quietest, youngest-looking of them all, Opal, walked silently at the back, eyes darting to every shadow, every crack in the stone, as though memorizing escape routes.

We stopped briefly for the women to circle and take a breath in their new home.

“You’ll like these rooms,” I told them as I started up again and opened the old carved door into a long corridor. “Plenty of shadows. Big windows overlooking the garden. And, you know, very few garlic wreaths.”

They laughed again.

Warm.

Genuine.

And a little hungry, if I wasn’t imagining it. I just wasn’t sure if our type of food was what they hoped for.

Nova strolled by and caught the look on my face.

“Making friends already, Bellemore?”

I smiled and nodded, knowing I could be in over my head.

But as I watched those four women claim their space in the Academy, laughter spilling onto the windows and walls like old magic finally waking up again, I realized this was precisely what the Academy was meant to be.

Alive.

Unpredictable.

And full of surprises.

And I loved my life even more for being a part of it.

Their banter echoed off the high, arched ceilings as if the old stones themselves were eager for gossip.

“So,” Mara said, sidling up beside me as we navigated the winding halls, “do you always make your students do this much cardio on the first day, Headmistress? Or is this a special treat?”

I laughed. “We’ll call it a bonus. Builds character. And call me Maeve, please. Headmistress still makes me feel like I should be twice my age and glaring over spectacles.”

“Age is just a number. I should know. I’ve been around for a couple of hundred of them.” Mara grinned, flashing teeth that were just the slightest bit too sharp to be entirely human.

Vivienne drifted behind us, and I glanced at her twirling a silver chain with an ornate ruby pendant as though bored. But I caught the spark of curiosity in her gaze every time we passed a woven tapestry or glowing sconce.

Lady Limora, regal and unreadable, floated more than walked, her layered gown brushing the stone with each step. Her movements were so calculated and fluid. Well, all of theirs were, really.

Opal remained mostly silent, trailing behind, eyes darting to every crack in the walls and creak of the floorboards. I caught her studying the exits and the windows. Old instincts, maybe, that allowed for survival.

“Sorry about the long walk. The Academy’s… well, she’s got her moods. Sometimes she takes you the long way, whether you like it or not.”

“She’s got style,” Limora said lightly. “I like her already.”

“I do not like the stairs,” Mara huffed, dramatically flinging her velvet coat over her shoulder. “My boots weren’t made for this level of suffering.”

Vivienne snickered. “Mara, darling, you chose those boots when we all told you they weren’t practical.”

“I chose them to look devastatingly fashionable in the moonlight while rejecting insufferable men. Not for hiking up haunted corridors.”

“Oh no,” Lady Limora purred. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and dumped another one.”

“Where at?” Vivienne deadpanned.

Mara burst out laughing. “Not dumped like… in a river, you ghoul. Broke up with him. It’s the current lingo.”

“Pity,” Limora murmured. “I was hoping for a more dramatic ending.”

I laughed with them, the tension in my shoulders easing with every step. “This is not the kind of student orientation I ever imagined.”

Mara winked. “Wait until you see our graduation plans.”

Opal, silent for so long, suddenly piped up in a whisper-soft voice. “We’re too old to be dull.”

That set them all off in a fresh round of laughter.

“Oh, I like you all already,” I said, shaking my head.

Mara flipped her curls. “Maeve, you’re going to adore us. We keep things lively, and we’re plenty loyal.”

“No doubt,” I said, leading them through a pair of carved wooden doors that opened to a long, curved hallway lined with rooms. Yet another area that had only been revealed to me when we needed it.

The windows faced the Butterfly Garden, where the faint glow of the Ward still shimmered in soft pink and gold hues.

“This is your hall,” I said, gesturing. “You’ve got the best view, and if the Academy is feeling gracious, an easy exit to the courtyard.”

“Sold,” Mara said, claiming the room nearest the corner.

Vivienne drifted toward the next door, testing the doorknob with a dainty flick of her fingers.

“Oh, charming,” she mused. “Proper locks. I do hate having to sleep with one eye open.”

“Old habits?” I asked.

She smiled without answering.

Lady Limora took the room at the far end, closest to the garden. She didn’t speak as she stepped inside, but I saw the way her shoulders softened, the way she inhaled deeply like the room itself had called to her.

Opal lingered outside her door, hesitant.

“Is it alright?” she whispered, looking at me.

“Of course,” I said gently. “It’s yours.”

She smiled shyly, and the hard edges faded from her expression for a moment.

As they moved into their rooms, I leaned against the wall, watching them claim their spaces, their laughter and excitement filling the once-lonely hall.

What struck me the most was that these vampires were seasoned, calm in their quiet magic. Yet, they were here.

It reminded me so much of nights back at Stella’s tea shop, with late evenings spent drinking lavender tea, sharing stories about old loves and small-town gossip.

Stella would adore these women. She’d probably have them wrapped around her finger in under an hour.

The thought evoked a bittersweet warmth in my chest, both grounding and stirring all at once.

Maybe I’d write to her tonight. Tell her all about the new faces filling these empty halls. She’d enjoy hearing about the woman who wore gloves indoors and the one who threatened to haunt me over staircases.

And she’d definitely tell me not to ignore the fact that at least one of them was probably a vamp. It was so unfair that Stella, Keegan, and my dad couldn’t come inside yet. I wasn’t sure how that worked, but I hoped the Academy would eventually let non-students in again.

“We have our own bathrooms,” Mara squealed.

I chuckled to myself as she poked her head out of her room, hair already loose, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Maeve,” she called. “When’s dinner? I’m starving. And if you say salad, I’m leaving.”

“Salad with any kind of dressing you want,” I teased.

Mara made a face. “Ugh, rude. ”

Limora emerged then, gracefully as ever, her smile soft but edged with something that reminded me of old royalty and forgotten palaces.

“You’ve done well here, Maeve,” she said, surprising me with the sincerity in her voice. “It feels much different than the last time I was here.”

Her statement surprised me speechless.

“You didn’t expect previous students to return?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what I expected, but so far it all feels right.”

She tilted her head. “But be careful. The Academy might have awakened, but so have the things outside its walls.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words.

“I know.”

Her lips curved faintly. “Good.”

And just like that, the cozy warmth of the hall tingled with something electric beneath the surface.

Like the calm before a storm.

But for now, the laughter drowned it out.

And I let the sensation wash over me because tonight was for new beginnings.

Tomorrow? Well… that was another story.