Celeste tilted her head. “Done with what?”
“With magical chaos,” I replied. “With Academy negotiations and ancient grudges and people getting blasted into rubble. You’re finally here. That matters most.”
Her eyes lit up. “Does that mean we’re going into town?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling fully now. “It does.”
Keegan straightened. “Stonewick day?”
“Stonewick day,” I confirmed.
Celeste practically bounced. “Can we get pastries?”
“Obviously,” I said. “And books. And we can visit that little clothing shop with the shoes you like.”
She grinned. “And lunch at the café?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “All of it.”
Keegan stepped forward, hands in his pockets, a smile tugging at his mouth. “If you’re up for it, I’ll meet you both at the inn tonight. Dinner’s on me.”
Celeste’s excitement dialed up instantly. “Your inn? With the fireplace and the fresh bread?”
“The very same,” he said.
“That sounds perfect,” I said, meaning more than just the dinner.
He nodded, eyes warm. “I’ll see you later, then.”
But as he turned to leave, something small and irritating made itself known.
A ribbit.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned toward the doorway.
Alex sat there, very still, very toad-shaped, his belly expanding from the short time he’d been here and obviously sneaking food from the kitchen. He watched us with what I could only describe as smug amphibious patience.
I sighed.
Celeste groaned. “He’s still a frog?”
“A toad,” Twobble corrected.
“Unfortunately,” I said.
He ribbited again, louder this time.
For a split second, I considered it. Turning him back. Dealing with it. Cleaning up yet another magical mess before it grew legs and wandered off, but there was something about letting the mystique of our magical capabilities simmer a little longer.
I looked at my daughter and at the sunlight streaming through the windows.
And toward the day waiting just beyond the Academy doors.
I shook my head.
“He can wait,” I said firmly.
