I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m terrified.”
“You should be,” Skonk called from the doorway, carrying a stack of freshly copied diagrams. “His first draft included a better hat and immortality but sparkly.”
“Both still viable,” Twobble muttered. “But not completely accurate.”
Dad set down his mug. “Let’s hear it.”
Twobble cleared his throat like an overexcited professor. “The priestess wants three things: power, permanence, and possession.”
“Possession of what?” I asked.
“Either you,” Twobble said, “or something you’re connected to.”
Keegan stiffened.
Mom pressed a hand to her chest. “She wanted Elira in Shadowick. But she didn’t get her. Elira stayed with the Academy.”
“And now Elira is gone,” I whispered.
The room went quiet.
Miora set her teapot down slowly. “And you, Maeve,” she said gently, “are the next Bellemore witch tied to the Academy’s core.”
Dad swore under his breath.
I sat back, tea forgotten.
Connected to the Academy.
Connected to the Wards.
Connected to the dragons, which she should know nothing about.
Connected to both lines of magic—mine and Shadowick’s.
My grandmother’s expression in the mirror, cold and calculating, flashed behind my eyes.
“She wants me,” I whispered. “She wants to use me the way she tried to use Elira and Gideon.”
Keegan moved closer, hand on the back of my chair. “She won’t be able to touch you.”
Twobble nodded eagerly. “Also, Gideon was definitely lying by omission.”
“Which omission?” I asked.
“All of them,” Twobble said. “I’ve made a list.”
Skonk handed me another scroll. “He spent years in Shadowick’s upper circles. He knows more than he said. He gave you just enough truth to make you trust the lie under it.”
I rubbed my temples. “So we don’t know what he wants.”
Miora shook her head. “We know what he’s afraid of. That’s something. He doesn’t want to die.”
Mom looked up. “The priestess wouldn’t let him leave Shadowick unless she wanted him to.”
Dad nodded grimly. “He’s her tool, whether he hates her or not.”
Silence.
