“You watch yourself,” he hissed. “One hop too many and you’re dinner.”
The toad croaked back, unimpressed.
“Twobble,” Stella said dryly, “stop threatening the amphibian.”
“He started it,” Twobble muttered.
The dining hall welcomed us with warmth as we stepped inside. Long tables gleamed softly, dishes already waiting from when we’d hurriedly left. The Academy, it seemed, had decided nourishment was nonnegotiable, and somehow the kitchen sprites had ensured everything was piping hot, even with the interruption.
Celeste sagged slightly as we reached the nearest bench, the adrenaline finally draining away. I sat beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
She exhaled. “So… that escalated.”
I snorted quietly. “You have no idea.”
She glanced down at her hands, and back up at me. “You okay?”
The question caught me off guard.
“I think so,” I said honestly. “Ask me again tomorrow.”
She smiled faintly. “Deal.”
Behind us, the hall filled with voices as the others filtered in.
Keegan and Nova peeled away to arrange Gideon’s temporary quarters, Stella was already issuing instructions to a sprite about tea, while my dad was hovering with that protective energy that never quite left him.
The Academy hummed, settled for now, and I settled on the bench, looking at my daughter that I’d tried to keep untouched by magic, but the young woman standing squarely in it.
I had a lot of catching up to do, and for the first time, that didn’t scare me at all.
Chapter Eleven
The dining hall felt different with Celeste in it.
The kitchen sprites had gone into a quiet frenzy the moment Celeste sat down, as if some invisible list had been activated that only they could see.
“Oh,” Celeste said, blinking as a plate slid into place in front of her. “Is that—?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Your favorite.”
Mac and cheese appeared first, the good kind with the crispy top and just enough herbs to pretend it was sophisticated, as a bowl of roasted vegetables slid next to it, done exactly the way she liked them. Warm rolls followed, with a small dish of honey butter she hadn’t asked for but absolutely would eat. A sprite placed a glass of cider beside it all and beamed as if she’d personally saved the world.
And in her own way, she had.
“Okay, this place officially wins over my dorm,” Celeste said, laughing. “When can I move in?”
I chuckled as exhaustion finally settled into my bones now that the crisis of the moment had ebbed. The ache was deep and satisfying, the kind that followed effort that mattered. Contentment wrapped around it, soft and unexpected, and for a few seconds I just watched my daughter eat like it was the most miraculous thing I’d seen all night.
It might have been.
She took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then paused mid-motion. Her fork hovered. Her eyes lifted to mine, suddenly sharp.
“Why is Gideon here?”
There it was.
