Page 20

For the first time all day, the kitchen was quiet.

I clutched a warm bowl of soup in both hands, thick, root-heavy, laced with rosemary and just enough cracked pepper to feel like a small spell in itself, and settled onto the cushioned bench beneath the tall window.

The sky outside had turned the color of river slate, soft and somber, and the Wards pulsed faintly beyond the glass like a heartbeat too far away to reach.

The Academy had been bustling from the moment I opened my eyes. New arrivals. Class reshuffles. More mouths to feed and even more minds to guide. I wasn’t complaining, not exactly, but the stillness of the kitchen felt like balm after so much noise.

I took a slow sip and exhaled.

And then, of course, my thoughts wandered.

Back to the dragons.

Back to what the one had said with that moonlit voice in my mind.

The Moonbeam reveals what you already carry.

I rubbed at my temple, not because it hurt, but because I could feel the truth of it still thrumming there, like an echo. I had tried not to think about it too much since, but the truth was, I hadn’t forgotten a single word.

And I couldn’t shake what Skonk had muttered on his way out of a staff meeting yesterday, just loud enough for Twobble to throw a muffin at him.

“Leaky dreams. Dangerous thing for someone with half-formed Hedge talent.”

At the time, it hadn’t landed. I’d been too busy dealing with attendance rosters and seating charts and whether or not one of the midlife witches had hexed a chalkboard into humming.

But now, in the quiet, it came back like a whisper with claws.

Leaky dreams.

Or had he said thoughts ?

Either way, the implication was the same. Something in me, some part of my Hedge magic, was bleeding through. If I wasn’t careful, my thoughts weren’t staying entirely my own.

And if that was true, what did that mean for the dragons?

The knowledge of them wasn’t something I could just lock up tight. If it slipped into a dream and wandered out into the world… if someone like Gideon ever got wind of it…

I set the bowl down with a thud, my appetite fading.

I was still learning. Still becoming, as the dragon had put it. But that didn’t make the risk any less real. Maybe I was trying too hard to hold the weight of everything. The Academy. Shadowick. The dragons. My dad’s curse.

And maybe my subconscious had no idea what belonged to me and what needed protection.

I pressed a hand to my chest and closed my eyes.

“Okay,” I whispered. “One thing at a time.”

A shriek cut through the hallway.

Not a magical screech or a panicked wail—no. This was a very specific kind of shriek.

The kind that involved Skonk.

And trouble.

I leapt up and bolted toward the door just as a blur of robes and broom bristles came whipping around the corner.

Skonk, hands flailing, was attempting to run backward down the hall while holding what looked like a pastry tin over his head as a makeshift shield.

“Lady Limora, it was an observation! ” he cried.

Hot on his heels was the woman in question, dark hair wild, eyes flashing, and a large broom clutched firmly in one elegant hand.

Not a cane.

Not an umbrella.

Definitely a broom.

“You implied my eyebrows were drawn on by a feral chipmunk!” she shouted, brandishing the broom like a saber.

“I meant it endearingly!”

“You said it explains a lot! ”

I stepped into the hall, startled and a little breathless. “What is going on?”

Skonk ducked behind me without shame. “Sanctuary! She’s trying to whack me!”

“I am whacking you!” Lady Limora snapped, still in full pursuit. “And I’d do it again if you weren’t hiding behind the headmistress like a cowardly turnip!”

“I resemble that remark,” Skonk mumbled. “I embrace it.”

I stepped between them quickly, holding up both hands.

“Okay! Everyone breathe. One deep breath. Two seconds of peace. That’s all I ask.”

Lady Limora paused, panting lightly, her broom raised but not striking.

Skonk peeked from behind me, his expression sheepish. “I may have made a comment that came out… poorly.”

“You always do,” she said, dropping the broom to her side.

“Can I assume no actual curses were thrown?” I asked.

“Only verbal,” Limora replied coolly, brushing a strand of hair back into place with impressive poise. “Though I did briefly consider turning his mouth into a June bug.”

“I’d make a lovely beetle,” Skonk said brightly.

Limora narrowed her eyes. “You’d make a…”

I rubbed my forehead. “This is my quiet day. My soup is going cold.”

Limora finally cracked a smile. “Apologies, Maeve. I’ll let him live. For now.”

She spun on her heel and swept down the hall with a dignity only someone truly furious could maintain after chasing someone with a broom.

Skonk exhaled like he’d just faced down a dragon. “She is terrifying. ”

“She’s also the reason the Moonbeam calendar is accurate to the hour,” I said. “So maybe keep the eyebrow commentary to yourself next time.”

He nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

I turned to go, then paused. “Skonk?”

“Yes?”

“What did you mean by leaky dreams?”

He froze.

“Ah,” he said slowly. “Just… that Hedge witches sometimes have a thin Veil. Between dream and thought. Between memory and instinct. Sometimes what’s inside you doesn’t stay there.”

I studied him.

“Should I be worried?”

He tilted his head. “Maybe. But only if you’re keeping secrets worth dreaming about.”

And with that, he winked and scurried away.

I watched him go, and I was left unsettled.

Then I turned back toward the kitchen, where my soup had gone lukewarm and the fire had dimmed.

I still had a lot to learn, but I was certain of one thing.

Leaky dreams could become something powerful, especially in the wrong hands. I needed to get better at keeping my thoughts to myself.

The halls of the Academy had grown quiet again, and I wandered them now with soft steps, as I thought about leaky dreams still clinging to me like fog to a window.

Skonk had said it so casually, like it was just a quirk, an oddity.

But the more I sat with the idea, the heavier it became.

Hedge witches were tied to the liminal, the in-between.

Dreams, intuition, tethered magic that didn’t always obey boundaries.

If something in me was leaking, was I putting everything at risk?

Were my thoughts drifting out where others could snatch them up?

I paused near the west wing and placed my left hand on the cool stone. I needed help.

And I needed it soon.

Nova would know something. If anyone understood the blurred edges between dream and reality, it was her. And Ardetia… well, she came from a people who practically breathed the unspoken.

But I had to ask without revealing the dragons. Their safety depended on secrecy, and I couldn’t risk one errant image, one slip of a word. The Academy had kept them hidden for a reason.

I turned toward Nova’s chamber first. Her door was slightly ajar, candlelight flickering in strange angles against the wall, shadows dancing like they were listening. I knocked once, lightly.

“Come in, Maeve,” she said before I could speak.

Nova sat cross-legged in a circle of runes and sea salt, a scrying bowl cooling nearby, and her raven hair braided back in a crown. Her green eyes lifted to mine, calm yet uncurious.

“I was hoping you’d stop by,” she said.

“How do you always know?”

She smiled faintly. “Because you’re always thinking loudly.”

I chuckled, then sobered. “Is… is that a problem?”

Nova tilted her head slightly. “Come in. Let’s sit with that.”

I stepped inside and took a cushion opposite her, curling my fingers together in my lap.

“I’ve been wondering about Hedge magic. About dreams, specifically. And thoughts that don’t always stay inside. I was hoping you or Ardetia might know how to... protect that.”

Nova didn’t answer immediately. She simply looked at me, really looked, like she was reading through a window instead of a face.

A rustle to my left broke the quiet. Ardetia stood in the shadowed corner of the room, having stepped in through one of her silent entrances, as she so often did. Her fae glow shimmered faintly along her collarbone, pale like starlight.

“You’re worried about someone listening in,” she said softly.

I nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to block the magic entirely. I just need to… know what’s mine is mine.”

Both women stilled. Not in surprise, but in a kind of shared pause. Like two musical notes suspended, waiting for the downbeat of a new verse.

Nova reached for a candle beside her and snuffed it with her fingers, plunging half the room into deeper shadow. The flame left a faint curl of smoke in the air.

“Then I think,” she said slowly, “we need to go somewhere we haven’t in a very long time.”

Ardetia folded her arms across her chest. “You’re sure she’s ready?”

Nova met her gaze. “No. But it’s not about being ready any longer.”

A pulse of something cold touched the base of my spine. “What are you talking about?”

Ardetia’s eyes flicked to me.

“The Flame Ward,” Nova said. “Do you remember the chamber where memories went to…” She stopped herself.

I nodded. “The memory forge.”

“In this instance, it can help you re-anchor what’s fraying. But only if you’re honest with it.”

I blinked. “But can’t it steal my thoughts?”

Nova leaned forward. “Let me ask you something, Maeve. When you dream, do the places feel like memories or possibilities?”

I've been thinking about the last few months. The feel of cold mist. The weight of eyes watching me in the dark. The echo of dragon wings, barely restrained.

“Both,” I whispered. “They feel like they’re happening. Like they’ve happened.”

Nova and Ardetia exchanged another look.

Nova stood, dusting her hands off gently. “Then it’s time.”

“Tonight?” I asked, heart fluttering.

“No,” she said gently. “Tomorrow. At dawn.”

Ardetia stepped closer, placing two fingers to the center of my brow. “Rest tonight, Hedge witch. You’ll need clarity for what’s ahead.”

Her touch was cool and calming.

I nodded slowly. “What can the forge do to help , exactly? I thought we had to be careful around it?”

Nova paused at the door, her silhouette framed by the flicker of candlelight.

“It helps you see the shape of your mind,” she said. “So you can decide who and what you let inside it. The forges also act like a vault.”

I followed them out of Nova’s room, letting the thought percolate, and I realized I didn’t know what I was getting into, but I was willing to do what I needed to keep my secrets safe.

And that, for now, would have to be enough.