Page 27 of Magical Moonbeam

“No,” I said finally, brushing past him toward the small wardrobe. “I wish it had been a ghost.”

Twobble blinked, eyes narrowing. “So… worse?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He hopped down with a quiet thud but didn’t press. For once, he let the silence stretch between us.

“I just need a minute,” I said quietly, already halfway to the washroom.

I stepped inside, turned the tap, and let the water heat. Steam curled up the mirror like a Veil, blurring the reflection of a woman who barely recognized her own eyes right now.

Gideon.

His voice was still coiled around my ears, his words echoing as if the dream hadn’t ended at all.“You want to meet meagain.”The worst part was that some tiny, traitorous part of mehadwanted to understand him, and he’d felt that, exploited it, just like Keegan said he would.

I stepped into the shower before it was ready, welcoming the chill. It shocked the fog out of my mind, and as the water warmed, I pressed my palms flat against the tiled wall and bowed my head.

Why now?

Why, after the kiss with Keegan, when it had been so silent…?

My thoughts turned to the way Keegan’s hand had cradled my face, the way his lips had brushed against mine with a tenderness that made my knees go soft. It hadn’t been a mistake or a moment of confusion. It had been real.

Safe.

And maybe that’s what made Gideon’s timing even more terrifying.

Like he knew.

Like he’d felt the shift in me, that soft, vulnerable space opening between me and Keegan, and decided to poison it.

He always did know how to twist what mattered most.

I shivered, and it wasn’t from the water.

If I let my heart open, would Gideon find another thread to pull?

Would Keegan become a weakness?

A target?

I shut off the water and wrapped myself in a towel, teeth gritted against the swirl of fear and fury.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

I dressed quickly, layering warmth over the cold that hadn’t fully left me. By the time I stepped back into my room, Twobble had set up a biscuit citadel on my pillow and was organizing a defensive perimeter using sugar cubes.

He looked up. “You smell less like nightmares.”

“I feel like a stirred-up potion,” I muttered.

“Still better than boiled over,” he said. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“In a sec.” I hesitated. “But I need to ask you something.”

He perked up immediately, brushing off his hands. “This sounds exciting.”

I sank onto the bed, rubbing my palms together. “Twobble…”