This was her battle stance—smile faintly, dismiss everyone else’s opinions, win the room by sheer stubbornness.
“I see your memory’s as sharp as ever,” Miora said lightly.
“And I see your people skills haven’t improved,” my mom countered, folding her arms.
I cleared my throat loudly, stepping between them, as though I could physically wedge myself into the growing gap.
“Ladies. Please. If you’re going to argue, at least do it when I’m not around.”
Neither of them looked pleased. My mom’s lips pressed into a thin smile. Miora’s nostrils flared like a cat sensing competition.
A rivalry.
Great.
Just what I needed on top of everything.
I sank into my chair, trying not to let my exasperation show too plainly.
My mom had always been difficult—sharp-edged, strong-willed, the kind of person who could turn a parent-teacher conference into a political debate.
I loved her, but I’d spent most of my adult life keeping her at arm’s length. Now she was back, planted in my cottage, staring down a woman I relied on for advice, protection, and the occasional scolding that kept me upright.
“What exactly brought you back to Stonewick?” I asked, trying to redirect. “Because if this is just another one of your dramatic midlife pivots, I need to know now. I have enough on my plate without refereeing your grudges.”
Her gaze slid back to me, calm and unreadable. “I told you. Your stepfather lost his marbles.”
“You said that last time. That’s not enough reason to come here,” I pressed.
Her mouth curved, just slightly. “Maybe not. But family is.”
Before I could respond, she turned in her chair, her eyes locking on my dad. She tilted her head, studying him in silence, the weight of decades hovering in that simple look.
Dad met her gaze without flinching. Then he set his cup down, the porcelain clicking against the table with finality.
“Actually, I asked her to come back,” he said.
The words hit like a slap.
“You—what?” I blurted. My chair scraped across the rug as I sat up straighter. “You invited her back? After years, after everything, you thought now was the perfect time for a reunion?”
Neither of them answered right away. My mom’s lips pressed into something halfway between triumph and regret. My dad just looked at me with that bulldog steadiness that made my chest ache.
The air went too tight in the room, the hearth’s crackle suddenly too loud. I didn’t know where to put my hands or what to do with my face.
Because I didn’t have time for this. Not now.
I had two rivals on their deathbeds, each slipping deeper into shadow with every hour. I had skies that crackled with omens, and shadows pressing like thunderclouds waiting to split. There were mirages unraveling across Stonewick with illusions one moment and dangers the next. The Academy and Wards teetered under the strain, the students depended on me to keep them safe, and the town looked to me for answers I barely had.
And now my parents were sipping tea in my cottage, as if this were a family counseling session.
It should have been too much. For anyone else, it probably would have been. But me? A midlife meltdown? Absolutely not. I’d already survived divorce, empty nesting, curses, goblins, shadows, dragons, and more scones than I cared to count. I wasn’t about to unravel because my parents decided to stir the pot.
Dad cleared his throat, a sound like gravel turning over in a tumbler. He leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees, and his teacup balanced between scarred fingers.
“If you’re staying, you need to know what’s happening,” he explained to my mom.
She tilted her head, lips pursed, clearly unsure she wanted to be told anything at all. Still, she gave the tiniest nod, sipping her tea as if bracing herself.
