Nova’s lips curved into the faintest wry smile. “Summer session begins.”
The bell echoed again, softer this time, like a heartbeat fading into the distance. And just like that, the heavy silence between us broke.
I straightened, pushing the ache of Keegan’s words down, down, into the place where all my hurts lived until there was time to tend them. “We have to greet them.”
“Yes,” Nova said, adjusting her grip on her staff. “They cannot arrive at shadows and silence. They must see safety. They must see us.”
The image struck me with unexpected force. A group of midlife students, eager and nervous, arriving with satchels and hopes, expecting a summer of learning spells and tea by the fire. They wouldn’t see the cracks in the Wards, or the shadows prowling at the edge of the village. Not if we did our jobs.
I forced a breath past the ache in my chest. “Then let’s give them the welcome they deserve.”
Nova inclined her head, and together we started down the hall, our footsteps echoing toward the gates.
The Academy’s hum seemed to shift as we walked, the tension loosening just slightly, as though it knew its halls would soon be filled again with chatter and life. But in the back of my mind, Keegan’s words lingered, sharp and unyielding.
At what cost?
I clutched the tea bag tighter and whispered to myself, so softly Nova didn’t hear, “Whatever it takes.”
Chapter Three
The Academy doors swung wide, and I stepped into the summer air.
A sea of midlife witches surged forward, dressed in everything from linen trousers to floral sundresses, wide-brimmed hats pinned with charms, and glittery sandals enchanted to never trip them up.
Their voices rose in a chorus of excitement, echoing against the stone arches. Some carried satchels overflowing with books, while others brought woven baskets filled with jars of tea and jam to share with their classmates.
One particularly determined woman arrived balancing a portable cauldron under her arm like a prized casserole. The air filled with a suspicious waft of singed lavender that suggested someone had tried a spell on their hair on the ride in.
I stood in the entryway, with a smile plastered to my lips so tightly it could have been stitched there.
“Alright, alright, back it up before she faints.” Twobble squeezed his way through the crowd with the determination of a goblin in a pie line. He skidded to my side and tugged on the hem of my cloak. “Breathe, Maeve. In and out. Otherwise, they’ll think you’ve turned into a marble statue and haul you into the garden as decoration.”
I choked back a laugh and leaned down. “I’m fine.”
“You’re lying,” he whispered gleefully. “And you’re terrible at it, which is fine. That’s why I’m here. I’ll distract the crowd. See?” He hopped onto the nearest bench, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “Welcome to summer session! Complimentary biscuits will be available in approximately twelve seconds.”
“Twobble.” My voice was a warning, but it was too late. A dozen pairs of eyes snapped toward him, and the students erupted in cheers.
A flutter of motion caught my eye as Lady Limora glided forward. In her hands, she balanced a tray of honey biscuits and sugared figs, the platter shimmering faintly from the kitchen sprite's handiwork of summer delicacies.
“Not twelve seconds,” she announced with a smile, “but now.”
The witches gasped as though she’d presented them with the crown jewels. Hands reached, treats were passed, and laughter spilled into the corridor. Lady Limora met my gaze across the bustle, her smile serene, her eyes saying what mine couldn’t.
You’re not alone. Just breathe.
I mouthed a thank you, and she inclined her head, graceful as always.
But the truth was that I was a hot mess inside. Between learning there was a goblin underworld beneath me, shadows hanging in the skies, Malore waiting to pounce, and Keegan barely holding on, I was at my wits’ end.
Oh, and did I mention I needed to get archenemies in a circle to sing 'Kumbaya' to save us all?
The students voiced questions to anyone who would listen as excitement tumbled from them faster than I could catch.
“Will there be broom-flying this term?”
Good question, considering I’d seen it before, but never tried myself.
