“Present!” Twobble sprang from behind a cart like a bad idea wrapped in a gift bow, both hands sticky with something that looked suspiciously like lemon glaze. “Reporting for duty with zero pastries in my pockets.” Something crinkled. “Okay, five. Five cupcakes, but they aren’t pastries. I have them for emergencies. Speaking of which, are we still pretending everything is fine? I’m very good at pretending. See?” He put both fists on his hips and sucked in his belly. “Confidence.”
Stella swatted a crumb off his cheek. “You, darling, are a true disaster. And if you pilfered my lemon knots again—”
“Pilfer is a harsh word. I reallocated.” He leaned in, voice dropping like a stage whisper. “Any updates from the Shadowick fan club? I miss the drama of an ominous letter. The quiet is giving me hives.”
“It’s giving me heartburn,” I said, and sipped. “Nothing from Gideon. No sign of Luna.”
Twobble’s ears dipped. “I never liked it when the villain goes on a lunch break. Means he’s building something.”
The bell jingled, and Nova arrived like she always did…already knowing why she was here. The seer’s raven hair was pinned in a low twist.
“Two more students checked out of Maple Dorm for the break. Ember’s counting heads in the dining hall. The Wards are steady. Too steady,” she informed me.
“Define too steady,” I said. “Because I rather like them steady.”
Nova’s green eyes flicked toward the window. “A river looks placid just before it drops off a cliff. Stillness is a posture.”
Stella clicked her tongue. “Very poetic, lovely, but we could do with a less lyrical cliff.” She poured Nova tea without asking. Nova drank without looking down.
Ardetia appeared next, not entering so much as lingering in the seam between here and there. Fae reluctance gave her an elegance that made me want to check my posture. She hovered just inside the doorway, gaze on the light pooling across the stone floor.
“The butterflies in the Ward changed flight,” she said softly. “They are tracing the edge of the light, not the flowers.”
“Predicting a storm?” I asked.
“Remembering one,” she murmured. “I don’t like it.”
Twobble hopped onto a stool and crossed his legs. “And yet, here we all are, not panicking. Excellent hinge work, Maeve.”
“Don’t encourage Stella’s metaphors,” I said dryly.
“Metaphors are free,” Stella sniffed. “Unlike tea. Twobble, you owe the shop thirty-three bucks, and soon, I’ll charge interest.”
He grinned. “Charge it to my tab.”
“You don’t have a tab.” She winked.
“I do now.”
Stella smiled and looked out the window as Bella walked past the window and entered.
Bella slid in with an armful of morning light. Her hair caught bronze even in shade, and her grin was pure trouble like mischief with a conscience.
Today her ears were human, but if I blinked, I could see the way her fox would spring from her bones, quick and sure. It reminded me of Keegan.
“Report from the grounds.” She smiled. “The students have eaten their feelings and are now pretending they didn’t. Also, someone charmed the ferns by the south steps. They spelled a rude word when I walked by. It was creative, but it seemed more like teenage rebellion and less like midlife maturity.”
I snickered. “When have you ever known any of us to be mature?”
“Does that mean Skonk is back on campus?” Twobble said, scandalized and pleased.
“I don’t know,” Bella said sweetly. “You two are like mismatched socks in the same bin.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. “How’s your heart?”
“Held together with tea and lists.”
“Good glue,” she said, and meant it.
Keegan arrived last, like a thundercloud you want to walk into.
