Page 162 of Magical Mischief
The strongest.
The one most tied to the border, to life, to growth.
To me.
But what if I’d had a misstep along the way?
I pressed a hand to my hip again. The ache had dulled, but it was still there. A quiet throb, like a bruise just under the skin. It had started as we left the hotel.
“I should go back to the Academy,” I said slowly, turning the words over in my mouth like they might shift in meaning if I said them out loud. “Try to talk to it again. Try to… explain what’s happening.”
Keegan tilted his head. “You think it would listen?”
“It alreadyhas,” I said. “It chose me. But it didn’t choose all my past… that I’ve spoken to Gideon, gotten in his mind.”
“You don’t know that.” He eyed me.
“I don’t know. But maybe it’ll understand. Or maybe it’ll tell me what to do. Because right now, I don’t know where to go next, and the longer we wait, the worse this place feels.”
Keegan looked up at me. “I wish I could be there with you.”
“Thank you.”
He held my hand for a brief second. “Things will be okay, Maeve. We’ve gotten this far. I’ll walk with you to the edge.”
We didn’t speak as we walked through the Ward. The path felt longer than usual.
Quieter. It was as if even the wind had decided to turn its back on the whimsy of the Butterfly Ward.
The stones underfoot, once warm with old magic, felt cold now. Sleepy. Dimming.
Had I done this?
I paused when we reached the last bend in the path where the hedge opened.
The Academy sat ahead for only me to see. Its spires cut through the low clouds, its windows glowing softly in the early light. Smoke curled from one of the many chimneys.
Life. It was stirring inside.
I turned to Keegan.
He didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown either. He nodded once, like he was placing something heavy in my hands but trusted I could carry it.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m going anyway.”
He stepped forward and touched my shoulder, his hand warm even through the layers I wore. “Come get me if anything feels off.”
“I always will.”
He dropped his hand, and I started walking.
The path to the Academy was familiar now. The turns, the dips in the path, the half-toppled marker stone covered in moss were all stitched into my steps. But my thoughts felt jagged, like walking over broken glass in a dream.
I kept picturing Gideon.
His smile. The smooth way he’d spoken when I first met him. Always just on the edge. Alwayswaiting.
