But the Silver Wolf was only the first stitch.
Chapter Two
A new day had dawned. The summer students would be here soon.
Keegan’s room was dim, lit only by a pair of lamps and the lazy fire Stella had insisted be kept burning for cheer. The curtains were drawn, though a thin slice of gray daylight pressed stubbornly through the gap.
Nova pushed the door open with her staff, and I followed, my sandals quiet on the stone floor.
Keegan sat propped against pillows, blanket thrown haphazardly across his legs. His eyes were sharp even in the low light, but the rest of him sagged, the way a man does when he’s spent every scrap of energy holding himself upright. His book was closed on the bedside table.
“You again,” he muttered when he saw us, his voice rough with fatigue. “You’ve made me into some invalid the Academy needs to babysit.”
“You’ve made yourself into someone stubborn enough to get himself killed,” Nova replied evenly, closing the door behind us.
His jaw flexed. “I don’t need a nursemaid. What I need is to get out of this cursed building and back to my own bed. I’d sleep better without the Academy humming over me like a beehive.”
I stepped closer, setting the bag of Stella’s brews on the table. “You wouldn’t make it to the front gates, Keegan. You’re not strong enough.”
His eyes cut to mine, hot and sharp. “Don’t tell me what I’m not.”
The words stung, though I knew they weren’t entirely his. Shadows threaded everything he said these days, twisting the edges. Still, I had to swallow hard before I could answer. “I’m telling you the truth. Even down the hall would lay you flat.”
He looked away, staring hard at the fire, but the tension in his jaw didn’t ease.
Nova moved to the window and tugged the curtain wider, letting more gray light in. “Complaining about your bed while the Wards strain around us seems a poor use of your breath, Wolf.”
“Easy for you to say,” Keegan snapped. “You don’t have to sleep in a mind that whispers all night.”
The paranoia had settled into him too easily.
He raked a hand through his hair, then turned back to us, his eyes narrowing. “So. Did she decide to show up again?”
My chest clenched as if he’d struck me. He didn’t have to say who he meant.
I forced my voice steady. “No. Not yet.”
His expression shuttered, as though he’d expected that answer all along but hated hearing it. “Figures.”
I moved closer, kneeling beside him so he had no choice but to look at me. “Keegan… maybe her return is not the curse at work. Maybe it’s Stonewick itself, trying to heal. Your mother’s return could mean the village is piecing itself back together withall the fae, shifter, and witch. All of us. Maybe this is Stonewick’s way of making us whole again.”
For a heartbeat, I thought I saw something soften in his eyes.
Hope, fragile and flickering? But then it vanished, replaced by a heat that made me flinch.
“At what cost?” he snapped.
The fire popped in the hearth, a spark leaping as though startled.
I sat back, throat tight. “What do you mean?”
His voice was sharp, too sharp. “Every time something comes back, something else is taken. My father’s absence is proof enough. And now you stand here telling me to be glad the Silver Wolf walks our lanes while my dad rots wherever he ran to? You want me to celebrate her return?”
“I want you to see it as more than just a wound being ripped open,” I said, my words trembling. “Your mother’s return could be a sign that the curse can be undone. That not everything is lost.”
He shook his head, jaw tight. “Lost isn’t the right word. Stolen, Maeve. Stonewick steals as much as it gives. Don’t dress it in prettier cloth.”
The bitterness in his tone twisted something deep inside. I reached for his hand, but he pulled it back under the blanket, out of reach.
