Magical Musing (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #2)

Chapter Eleven

The door creaked open, and there he was—Keegan.

But not the Keegan I’d expected.

He stood there, framed by the soft glow of the porch light, snowflakes melting against the dark strands of his hair, clinging to the edges like reluctant stardust. He looked stronger than earlier today, his posture solid, his sharp features etched with something different—something darker.

A glint flickered in his eyes, sharp as a blade but not dangerous.

No, it wasn’t danger I felt.

It was curiosity.

And maybe something else I didn’t want to name.

Twobble perched himself on the armchair and took in the scene unfolding with an amused expression. If I knew how to shoo a goblin, I would.

“Hey,” I said, leaning against the doorframe like that casual posture would keep my heart from racing.

It didn’t.

His lips curved into a slow, easy grin that should’ve come with a warning label.

Keegan’s voice was a little gruff. “Hey.”

For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. Then I shook myself, motioning him inside like I wasn’t one second away from overthinking everything.

“Come in. You’ll freeze out there,” I added, stepping back to let him through.

He brushed past me, bringing the crisp scent of winter air mixed with something earthy and faintly spicy. My pulse did this traitorous little stutter, but I ignored it.

Mostly.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, closing the door behind him and locking it for no reason but to keep my hands busy.

He glanced around the cottage, taking in the flickering firelight, the cluttered stack of books on nearly every surface, and Frank, who didn’t even lift his head from his snoring heap of wrinkles.

Keegan shrugged, his shoulders shifting beneath the worn fabric of his jacket.

“Better. Stronger.” His gaze met mine again, something wicked dancing in the amber flecks of his eyes. “Hungry. Did you get to nap yet?”

“No. Things have gotten in the way.” I laughed, but my stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with food. “I’m fresh out of anything impressive. Unless you count expired granola bars and a brownie batch gone bad. Or some cheese.”

Keegan stepped farther into the room. His presence filled the small space like gravity itself bent toward him.

“Got any wine?”

I blinked, then snorted.

“No, but—” I hesitated, remembering something I’d read earlier. “I did just find a spell for that. Apparently, I have an entire box of food and beverage spells in the kitchen behind the vinegar. Twobble pointed it out.”

Twobble snickered. “I wish I’d thought better of it. But that is my cue to exit,” Twobble announced, puffing his chest out and pushing past Keegan. I bit back a laugh.

I watched the little guy trundle to the door and turn back toward Keegan for one last look.

Keegan’s grin widened as his eyes locked on mine. “So, wine conjuring? That’s a handy party trick.”

“Well,” I said, heading toward the kitchen with him trailing closely behind me, “I’m not promising anything. It might turn out… questionable.”

“As long as you sip it first.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to focus on his standing close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him.

The kitchen was cozy—small, with wooden shelves filled with mismatched mugs, jars of herbs, and the lingering scent of dried lavender and something citrusy from a spell gone wrong last week. And the hutch provided the perfect backdrop to hide a bit from Keegan because the energy between us felt…different. And I needed a moment to compose myself.

Keegan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with that maddening smirk like I was both a puzzle and the punchline of some private joke.

But who was the one who’d sprouted fur and claws in the last twenty-four hours?

It wasn’t me.

I cleared my throat and tried to ignore how his gaze felt like he was more than just seeing me. It felt as if Keegan was studying me, tracing the curve of my spine and the tilt of my head, almost in a primal, animalistic way.

My fingers fumbled slightly as I grabbed the small wooden box from the counter, flipping to the card with the wine-conjuring incantation.

“Okay,” I muttered, clearing my throat again. “No judging.”

“I’d never,” he said, utterly unconvincing.

I shot him a look over my shoulder, and he just grinned wider.

Jerk.

If only he hadn’t just had a near-death experience, I’d shovel some his way.

Focusing on the spell, I gathered the ingredients—just a pinch of rosemary for stability, a splash of water as the base, and a small red crystal I’d found on the hutch that buzzed faintly under my fingertips. The words were simple, but the intention had to be clear: abundance, temperature, and maybe a little indulgence.

This time, I would not screw up the words.

I recited the incantation, feeling the magic stir beneath my skin like the faintest brush of static. Excitement skated across my fingertips.

This was working.

The water shimmered, deepening in color, darkening until it resembled the rich hue of red wine. A faint, fruity aroma drifted up, tinged with spices—clove, maybe a hint of blackberry.

Nice.

I glanced at Keegan, who raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. But the real question is—”

“I know, I know. I’m sipping first,” I said, fighting back a smile.

I took a cautious sip. Warm, slightly sweet, with just enough bite to make it interesting.

Definitely wine.

Probably not poison.

I turned, triumphantly holding the glass out to him.

“Voila.”

He pushed off the doorframe, closing the space between us with slow, deliberate steps. My breath hitched, but I pretended it didn’t. His fingers brushed mine as he took the glass, and the contact was brief but electric.

Keegan’s gaze held mine for a beat longer than necessary before he finally took a sip. His expression stayed neutral.

“Not bad.” He winked at me.

“Admit it,” I deadpanned, taking another sip myself. “You’re impressed because I know I’m impressed.”

Keegan chuckled, a sound so low I almost didn’t catch it.

He leaned against the counter, closer now.

Close enough that I could feel the faint thrum of his magic—or maybe it was mine. I wasn’t entirely sure where one ended and the other began.

The space between us felt charged, filled with words unsaid, questions unasked. I could sense his eyes on me even as I pretended to focus on the glass in my hand.

“Is this your way of impressing me?” he asked softly, his voice dipping into something rougher.

I snorted, trying to break the tension or pretend it didn’t exist.

“If I wanted to impress you, I’d conjure something stronger.”

He laughed again; this time, the sound cradled me, pulling me in.

But I didn’t lean closer.

And I definitely didn’t wonder what it would feel like if I did.

I took another sip of the conjured wine, letting it swirl on my tongue as if that would drown out the persistent buzz beneath my skin. The one that always seemed to wake up whenever Keegan was around.

His presence was feeling more and more like my gravity.

But I wasn’t about to get caught in that orbit. Not tonight.

Maybe this was only happening because of the change he’d nearly made, but I didn’t want to find out one way or the other.

I cleared my throat, setting the glass down on the counter with more force than necessary, the faint clink sharp in the cozy quiet of the kitchen.

“So,” I started, sweeping away the charged air like brushing crumbs off a table. “Gideon.”

The name hung in the space between us, and I realized how good I was at stopping any sort of flirtatious moment from moving to the next level.

Nice one, Maeve.

Keegan’s easy smirk faded. His posture stiffened slightly as if the sound of it had pressed against a bruise that never fully diminished. His jaw tightened with the faint muscle ticking before he shifted his weight and leaned against the counter.

“What about him?” His voice was flat, carefully neutral…

But his eyes—those sharp, stormy hazel eyes—flashed with something darker.

I swallowed, unsure if it was the wine or the sudden chill threading through me.

“I don’t understand how he could wield so much power when he was so young. I mean… he was only a little older than you, right? So what gave him that kind of control? That… reach?”

Keegan’s jaw clenched even tighter, and he nodded slowly. His gaze drifted to the window where the night pressed against the glass like it wanted to listen in, and with the woods around here, perhaps it did.

“So, back to business…” His voice trailed off.

“Always.”

“None of us have been able to figure out how he could have harnessed what it took,” he muttered, his voice low, rough around the edges like gravel. “It doesn’t make sense. Not then, not now.”

I watched him, the way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides like he was resisting the urge to curl them into fists…or maybe claws. The tension in his shoulders and the way his breath came a little slower were all there, etched into the spaces between his words.

Perhaps, worlds.

When I looked at Keegan, I couldn’t forget what I had seen earlier. I could vividly imagine his haunches, which were thick and barreling, boxing me in and protecting me.

What if he changed in front of me? What if the curse wasn’t finished with this decade?

“Did you know him?” I asked quietly.

I didn’t want to poke too hard but wanted to understand.

Keegan’s eyes snapped back to mine, intense and unflinching. Then he shook his head, a bitter curve twisting at the corner of his mouth.

“Knew of him. We weren’t friends.”

The words carried more weight than they should’ve. I wondered if they were layered with memories he didn’t want to unpack.

“He was part of Shadowick, so,” Keegan continued, his voice softening slightly but not losing that edge. “I was taught to be wary of mages like him. Magic folk tied to that faction. They were considered dangerous. Reckless.”

I nodded, chewing on that thought.

It felt too simple, too neat.

“But why? What made Shadowick so different?”

Keegan exhaled a harsh breath as if trying to release something knotted inside.

“Self-preservation. That’s what it was for Stonewick. Shadowick’s mages didn’t follow the same rules. They didn’t believe in balance. They believed in power. Control. They were ambitious, hungry for more, and that kind of hunger makes people dangerous, especially when they don’t mind tapping into black magic.”

His words sank like someone dropped stones into deep water.

“So they were outcasts.”

Keegan’s lips thinned.

“Born outcasts, yeah. But… I always felt bad about it. It wasn’t fair. They didn’t choose their origins or what magic ran through their veins. But at the same time…” His eyes darkened, his expression hardening. “They chose what to do with it.”

That revelation sat between us.

I nodded slowly, but my mind was racing to stitch the fragments together.

Gideon’s sudden rise to power.

The curse that fractured Stonewick.

The Academy’s sealed doors.

None of it fit neatly.

The puzzle pieces felt like they belonged to different pictures entirely.

“So what do you think Gideon wanted?” I asked softly, almost to myself. “What did his heart crave—or lose—that made him like this?”

Keegan didn’t answer right away. He stared into the flickering shadows cast by the small kitchen lantern, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to swallow.

“I never thought about it that way, Maeve.”

His words caught me off-guard.

“That’s because you’re so strong, Keegan.”

“Whatever it was, it broke him.”

Its simplicity hit harder than I expected.

Broke him.

“You never thought about it that way because you didn’t break. You rose above everything.” I shook my head. “But Gideon couldn’t…didn’t, whatever it was.”

Because wasn’t that how it happened, right?

People didn’t just wake up evil one day. It was slower, a thousand tiny fractures that eventually caved in.

Loss.

Grief.

Rage.

All of it left cracks for darkness to seep through and settle in for the long haul.

The strong lines on Keegan’s face softened slightly.

There was something in his eyes, a flicker of understanding buried under all that guarded distance.

He knew more about breaking than he let on, which broke my heart.

The silence grew thick and tangled.

I wanted to keep pulling at the loose ends, to unravel whatever truths were hiding there, but I also didn’t want to push him too far.

Not tonight.

Not after everything he’d been through.

Instead, I reached for my wine glass again, sipping slowly, letting the liquid coat the ache in my chest.

“Do you think we’ll ever find out?” I asked quietly, unsure if I meant the truth about Gideon or the answers to all the questions I didn’t know how to ask.

Keegan’s gaze met mine.

“We’ll find out. And when we do… we’ll be ready for the answers.”

I wanted to believe him.

I needed to believe him.

Because if we weren’t ready, I wasn’t sure Stonewick—or any of us—could survive what was coming.