Page 85 of Magical Moonbeam

And maybe it had.

Perhaps italwaysknew.

Chapter Twenty-One

The morning light in the Butterfly Ward was always a little softer than anywhere else. It filtered through lace canopies and had a way of warming you from the inside out, even when you were sleepless, heavy-eyed, and full of questions you hadn’t yet formed, let alone answered.

I stepped off the stone path and wandered into the grass barefoot, letting the dew soak into my toes. The Ward shimmered faintly around me.

Its glow shifted with every whisper of wind. I needed this. The quiet. The illusion of safety. The tiny moment to breathe without bracing for what was next.

The wings of a nearby butterfly caught the sun, flashing soft pink and blue before it disappeared into the petal-thick hedges. I sighed and leaned down, running my fingers over a bloom I couldn’t name, its petals shaped like tiny folded fans, their edges glowing faintly with Ward light.

That’s when I heard the unmistakable crunch of a goblin-sized footstep behind me.

“I know about your shenanigans last night,” Twobble called out.

I turned, already guilty.

He stood with a stick over one shoulder and a half-eaten apple in the other, wearing his usual expression of disgruntled fondness.

“Out after dark, slipping into illusion-Shadowick without backup. Very cloak-and-dagger of you.”

I groaned. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got ears everywhere. And at least three mildly enchanted squirrels who owe me favors.”

I arched a brow.

“Don’t ask,” he said, taking a bite of the apple. “But the point is, Maeve Bellemore, sneaking off like a wayward teenager is a bold strategy when literal mind-eating shadows are trying to track your every move.”

“I didn’t exactly have a sign over my head,” I muttered.

“No, but your birthmark glows when you're stressed. And you were a firefly last night, emotionally speaking.” He shrugged. “I didn’t even need my flashlight last night when I snuck in to check on Frank.”

“You sneak in?”

“The point is that you went into Shadowick and should have at least told me.”

I sighed and sat on the low edge of the fountain, drawing circles on the stone with my fingertip. “You’re probably right.”

Twobble nearly dropped his apple. “Did you say that out loud?”

“Don’t gloat.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll just write it down in ink made from pixie sap and hang it on the library wall.”

I rolled my eyes, but a ghost of a smile tugged at my lips. He always had a way of cutting through my gloom without making it feel smaller. But then he tilted his head and stared at me, and I felt it—the shift. The joke was a bridge to something else.

“Look,” he said, voice dropping. “I know we’ve been working hard. Wards, training, clever illusions… lots of smoke and mirrors and hopeful sighs. But there’s an elephant in the garden.”

I blinked at him. “A what?”

“The metaphorical elephant. Not an actual one. Though if one shows up, I want full credit for the prediction.”

“Twobble…”

He sighed. “Fine. The question is… once you're there, once you'reactuallyin Shadowick on Moonbeam’s Eve, how do you plan on breaking the curse?”