This was not Keegan. He trusted Stonewick more than he trusted himself, and now? He despised the town he’d spent years trying to save.
None of it made sense, but I could see what went into building Gideon, bit by bit.
Nova’s staff tapped once against the floor, the sound sharp enough to split the tension. “You are alive,” she said, her voice cutting but steady. “Alive because Maeve believes enough to fight when you would rather sulk. If Stonewick is stitching itself together, then you can either curse the thread or help weave it. Choose wisely, Wolf.”
Keegan glared at her, but Nova’s gaze didn’t waver.
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. I sat there, my chest aching, torn between wanting to shake him and wanting to cradle him.
Finally, he leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. “Leave me.”
The words stung worse than a slap.
I stood slowly, gathering the tea bag back into my hands, holding it to my chest like a shield.
“I’ll come back with Stella’s brew later,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if he heard me.
Nova opened the door, handed me my cloak, and I followed her out.
When the door clicked shut behind us, I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to ease the ache there. Nova’s presence was steady beside me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was watching Keegan unravel thread by thread, and I didn’t know how many stitches were left before the whole weave fell apart.
I leaned against the wall as the cool stone pressed into my back, and my lungs tightened.
“You were tough on him,” I said softly.
“I needed to be.” Nova stood beside me, staff resting lightly against her shoulder. Her raven-dark hair spilled down her back,catching the faint lamplight. For a while, she said nothing. She didn’t need to. Silence was her language, and I’d come to know its shapes.
Finally, I whispered, “He’s slipping.”
Nova inclined her head, slow, deliberate. “The curse has its claws deep in him. Every day, I see it burrowing further.”
My throat tightened. “I feel it, too. He’s… darker. Not always, not fully, but it’s there. In his voice. In his eyes.”
“And in his temper.”
I closed my eyes, the memory of his sharp words still cutting into me. “That wasn’t Keegan in there. Not all of him, anyway. Malore’s seed is twisting him more every day.”
Nova’s staff tapped once against the stone floor, the sound like punctuation to a truth I didn’t want to accept. “Half-measures do not break curses. They are clever. They wait until you believe you are strong enough to resist, and then they strike.”
I hugged Stella’s bag of tea to my chest like a talisman. “I can’t lose him, Nova. Not like this. Not while he’s still fighting.”
“You won’t,” she said firmly, though her green eyes softened. “But you must be prepared for how close you may come.”
The corridor stretched long and dim around us, the sconces flickering faintly. The Academy hummed restless underfoot. It felt as though the very walls were listening, waiting for me to admit what I already knew: time was running short.
“He’s changing by the day,” I said, my voice breaking. “And if the wolf in him loses to the shadow…”
Nova’s hand settled lightly on my arm, grounding. “Then we remind him who he is. Every hour, every breath. That is what love is, Maeve. It’s not blind faith. It’s relentless remembering.”
I nodded, swallowing the ache in my throat. “And if remembering isn’t enough?”
Her gaze sharpened, fierce and steady. “Then we use every weapon Stonewick gives us. Even the ones we fear.”
The words sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t want to think about what she meant by the weapons.
Before I could answer, the low, resonant sound of the Academy’s bell rolled through the halls. Once, twice, then three clear peals, vibrating the stone beneath our feet.
I startled, clutching the bag tighter. “The students.”
