That familiar flutter hit low in my chest before I could stop it. It’s ridiculous that after orc negotiations and shadow hunts and public speeches, it’s eye contact with Keegan that unsteadies me most.
He didn’t look away right away, and neither did I.
I cleared my throat gently. “I was thinking of heading to the cottage tonight.”
His expression shifted to something softer, somehow.
“Yeah?”
“I need a minute where the walls aren’t humming at me.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
“Do you want me to come?” he asked.
“I was hoping.”
From the kitchen came a burst of laughter followed by Twobble’s outraged voice: “That is absolutely not a three-bite sample!”
I smiled despite myself.
The Academy buzzed under my boots.
Hope was moving through the Academy.
And for one fragile, precious stretch of time, it felt like we were building something faster than it could be broken.
I just hoped the storm wasn’t already watching where we were headed next.
The Academy’s hum faded behind us as we stepped onto the winding path through the trees. The late light slanted gold through the branches, catching on drifting leaves and turning the dust in the air into something nearly holy.
Keegan walked close enough that our shoulders brushed every few steps, and the ground felt familiar, roots curving where I expected them to curve, stones rising exactly where they’d always risen.
And now as something else entirely.
“You’re quiet,”
Keegan said.
“I’m thinking,” I replied.
“That’s never concerning.”
“It is if I start reorganizing magical institutions in my head.”
He chuckled softly.
We rounded the final bend, and the cottage came into view. It was tucked against the trees, as if it had grown there rather than been built long ago. The stone walls caught the last of the sun, and the roofline sloped comfortably. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney.
And perched on the peak of the roof, as though he had always belonged there, was Karvey.
He shifted when he saw us, wings stretching slightly before folding back. Then he hopped down from the roof with a solid, unapologetic thud that shook a few leaves loose from the nearby branches.
“Evening,” he said, brushing imaginary dust from his stone forearm.
“Evening,” I replied, smiling despite myself. “You could have called from the roof, you know.”
“I could,” he agreed. “But that would ruin the drama. I like to announce my presence.”
