“Yes.”
“A fae,” he said again, emphasizing the word as if tasting something bitter.
“Yes, Twobble,” I gently said, watching his eyes narrow.
He crossed his wiry arms over his chest, his expression quickly shifting from surprise to annoyance.
“Well, isn’t that just perfect?” he grumbled. “You mean the Academy that won’t letme, your loyal friend and personal goblin companion, inside even to fetch a book, is willing to entertain a fae? A fae who, may I remind everyone present, was first to abandon Stonewick the very second trouble knocked?”
I bit back a smile, though guilt tugged at the corners.
He had a point.
Twobble had been there from the beginning. He’d helped rebuild my cottage, kept Frank company, carried messages, and fussed endlessly about our well-being. Yet he remained blocked at every turn by an Academy apparently content to leave him pouting at its edges.
“You know,” he continued, warming up to his rant, “this is just typical. Loyalty means nothing these days. Absolutely nothing. I’ve done nothing but serve faithfully, endure hardship…”
“You mean endure Frank,” I teased.
“Precisely my point!” Twobble said, eyes wide as he gestured dramatically. Frank snorted again, pawing at Twobble’s foot in mild protest.
I stepped forward, putting a gentle hand on Twobble’s shoulder.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “You deserve to be inside. You’ve done more for me and the Academy than half the beings who’ve crossed its threshold. But…” I hesitated, searching for words that wouldn’t further wound his goblin pride. “I think the Academy’s choosing carefully right now. Slowly. It’s testing itself as much as it’s testing us.”
His expression softened slightly, the frown becoming more thoughtful. “Testing us?”
I nodded, squeezing his shoulder.
“Think about it. Bella’s a shifter, and the Academy opened its doors to her. Now a fae is cautiously trying to return. Maybe the Academy knows something we don’t yet. Maybe it’s trying to heal the old divisions. It has to move slowly with baby steps. Letting in Bella, then this fae visitor… maybe soon it’ll be ready to fully open, and then…”
“Then they’ll finally realize they owe me an apology?” Twobble offered hopefully, his scowl already fading into a grudging grin.
“Yes,” I chuckled softly. “An apology, a welcome banner, and probably a parade in your honor.”
Twobble gave a sharp nod, brushing imaginary dust off his worn jacket.
“Now, that’s more like it. Parades, I deserve.”
Frank barked softly, the sound short and agreeable, as if firmly backing Twobble’s opinion.
“Look,” I continued gently, “the Academy is waking up slowly, carefully, trying not to make the same mistakes it did in the past. It can’t afford to rush things. Neither can we.”
Twobble’s shoulders relaxed fully, though he still grumbled, “Fine, I suppose patience is a virtue.”
“You’re terribly virtuous.” I giggled.
“I know,” Twobble sighed dramatically. “It’s exhausting.”
Frank stood again, nudging at Twobble’s leg impatiently.
“Well,” Twobble said, returning his gaze to me, “I’ll take Frank home before he decides to start chewing shoes again. But mark my words, Maeve. If this fae starts throwing parties or tea gatherings there, I will have words with that Academy. Serious words. I’m tired of being left out of all things Academy.”
I laughed, gently shooing him toward the path. “Duly noted, but do you care to escort me to my next stop in the meantime?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The hour felt borderline for politeness, but it wasn’t so deep into the night that people would be furious if I knocked on a door.
