Page 100 of Magical Moonbeam

Ardetia was beside her, ever fae, wearing a gown that looked stitched from moon threads and dusk. Her feet didn’t quite touch the ground, though she’d never admit it.

It was no wonder that my daughter thought everyone participated in cosplay around town.

Ember, always one step behind but twice as bold, waved like we were all her favorite part of the day.

Then came Lady Limora with her friends—Vivienne, with her sharp grin and a wreath of nightshade pinned in her hair; Opal, elegant as ever, carrying a leather-bound book of something she was absolutely not supposed to be reading at dinner; and Mara, humming quietly to herself, pale curls tied back with a crimson ribbon.

Stella lit up. “Oh good, the coven’s complete. I was just starting to feel outnumbered by the goblin contingent.”

Twobble looked up from his plate of what might’ve been sugared beets and huffed. “We’re not acontingent,we’re a diplomatic pairing.”

Skonk gestured to the empty plate in front of him. “Diplomatic pairing who’s been robbed of a second helping, I might add. Where is the rest of the food?”

“Could you pretend to be dignified!” Twobble snapped.

“Appetizer pacing is an illusion,” Skonk replied solemnly.

“Boys,” Bella said, sliding gracefully into a chair, “if you’re going to bicker, at least do it over dessert.”

And then the table stretched, literally. The café enchanted itself often, and tonight was no exception. With a softgroanof wood and shimmer of candlelight, the table expanded like dough under warm hands. More chairs appeared. So did a second row of lanterns strung overhead and a table runner made of wildflowers that changed color when you blinked.

Thankfully, none of the tourists seemed to notice, but they rarely did. They were too often staring at their cellphones and pretending they enjoyed one another’s company.

Ardetia sat beside Opal and poured herself a glass of sparkling nettle wine. Limora ordered a round of pressed elderflower sodas and wild plum cordials for her group, and within moments, the second wave of food appeared like a miracle on ceramic plates.

Golden mushroom pastries. Buttered carrots dusted with roasted thyme. Hearthbread with wild garlic butter. There were baskets of nut-stuffed rolls and chilled cucumber salad flecked with mint and vinegar.

“This,” Mara said, spooning something with basil cream onto her plate, “is the opposite of what we ate when I was turned.”

Vivienne leaned in. “I still say we storm the kitchens and keep the mortals on their toes.”

Stella took a bite of something flaky and made a sound like she was falling in love. “If I’m going to storm anything, it’s going to be with a fork.”

Laughter swept the table again, and I leaned back slightly, watching them all. These women. These magic-wielders, rebels, teachers, and oddballs. My people.

But even with the food and firelight, I could feel it coming.

The shift.

The laughter began to soften. The silverware slowed. Ember, who had been halfway through recounting how she’d accidentally turned the hotel’s laundry into a cloud burst last week, fell quiet as her eyes met Lady Limora’s.

And then Bella cleared her throat.

“I heard,” she said, her voice gentle but no longer light, “that the illusion was visited again last night.”

My hand froze over my glass.

So ithadmade the rounds.

Keegan’s brow twitched beside me, but he didn’t look at me. Instead, he reached for a slice of pie and said, “Not my story to tell.”

All eyes turned to me.

I placed my fork down slowly. “It was me.”

The honesty dropped like a coin in still water. The ripple it caused was subtle but deep.

Ardetia tilted her head slightly. “And how did it feel?”