Chapter Thirty-Three
I didn’t go looking for Bella.
I should have. She’d brought me here, cleared the path, held open the door. She deserved answers just as much as I did. But no one could know about the dragons. Not here and not in Shadowick.
Only one person could tell me the truth, and she was already buried beneath layers of time, memory, and whatever promises she'd made to the Academy.
Grandma Elira.
And I was going to find her. Just… not yet. Not until I’d sorted through the mess in my head.
Why didn’t she tell me Shadowick had dragons, and she knew what Gideon had been after? Could that be true?
The corridor to my old room was darker than I remembered. Shadows clung to the corners and followed behind me like quiet company.
My door creaked as I pushed it open. The room was exactly as I’d left it.
The velvet coverlet on the bed looked lush, which looked extremely inviting. Maybe I could just dream away all I’d read. With the embroidered cushion and curled legs, my favorite chair leaned against the far wall like it was waiting for me to flop into it and read something I wasn’t supposed to.
I shut the door behind me, not because I was worried about being followed but because I needed the barrier. I needed the room to settle around me like armor.
I thought about all the conversations I’d had with my grandmother since I’d arrived at the Academy. She spoke of the Academy’s traditions, secrets, and failures, but never once had she mentioned that she knew what Gideon wanted.
Never once did she tell me that Shadowick, too, had dragons.
Why keep that from me?
Was it protection? Shame? Guilt?
Or had she simply thought I wouldn’t understand?
I stopped pacing and ran a hand through my hair. I needed a shower. I needed a change. Something clean. Something that didn’t carry the weight of everything I’d just learned.
I crossed the room and opened the wardrobe.
It was larger than I remembered. The hinges groaned, reluctant and familiar. Inside, a row of garments hung neatly, untouched by moths or time. Most were in deep, muted colors—blues, grays, forest greens. Some had embroidery along the hems, and others were plain.
It felt like I was stepping back in time.
After my shower, I dried off and touched the sleeve of a dark teal tunic I chose to wear. I felt a little better, not so exhausted. The tunic fit perfectly when I slipped it over my head, like it had been made for me.
The black pants were snug, high-waisted and sturdy, the kind of thing you’d wear if you expected to climb through ruins or scale a cliff.
And maybe I did. Who knew what the next few days would look like?
As I ran a comb through my hair, I caught sight of myself in the mirror above the dresser. I didn’t look like a tired, divorced mom anymore. Or a woman still fumbling her way through a post-divorce rediscovery.
I looked like someone on the edge of knowing something they’d never be able to forget.
I moved to the window and pushed it open, letting in a rush of icy air. It cut through the stillness like a knife. The breeze smelled of pine and something colder, something sweet.
And that’s when I saw it.
A flicker of movement, just beyond the garden wall.
Not human. Not animal, either.
I leaned out, squinting through some branches.
There. Near the row of hedges, something was winding between the trees.
Low to the ground. Sinuous. Pale, with just a shimmer of green.
Not large. But unmistakably alive.
I didn’t breathe.
It paused at the edge of the hedge and raised its head. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see the narrow gleam of an eye that looked far too intelligent to belong to anything ordinary.
Then it slipped out of view.
Gone.
I stood frozen at the window, heart hammering. It hadn’t seen me, or at least, I didn’t think it had. But something about its movement had felt deliberate. Not a wild creature slinking through the Academy grounds. Not a random sighting.
It wanted to be seen.
The conversation with Elira would have to wait. The questions, the journals, the secrets—all of it could sit on the shelf a little longer.
Something was happening now.
And whatever it was had managed to come onto Academy grounds.
Some answers didn’t come in words.
Some arrived on silent feet, just outside the window.
Bella knocked like she already knew I was awake.
Quick, sharp taps. Not impatient, but urgent.
“Maeve,” she called through the door, breathless. “Did you see it?”
I was already halfway across the room. I yanked the door open, heart still drumming from what I’d witnessed out the window. Bella stood in the corridor, her braid half undone and boots unlaced, like she’d run the whole way.
“I saw something,” I said. “You too?”
She nodded, eyes wide. “Near the hedge?”
“Yes.”
“Come on,” she said, already turning. “We need to follow it. If we wait—”
“We’ll lose it.”
The halls of the Academy echoed with our quick footsteps. It was quiet, too quiet. Just stone and shadow and the occasional gust of air that felt like it came from somewhere deeper than any hallway should lead.
We took a shortcut through the east corridor,
Bella didn’t speak, and I didn’t ask where we were going.
The grounds looked different in the late night. Snow clung to the cobblestones, and the trees hadn’t quite shaken off the chill. We slipped past the old fountain, now overrun with icicles, and ducked under the stone arch leading to the Butterfly Ward, where snow made way for glimmering leaves, dewdrops, and brilliant petals drooping in the breeze.
I looked up and saw a flicker of a silhouette, and Bella froze.
The figure spun around, eyes wide, and I caught sight of its face peering through the parted hood. It had taken a different shape.
My breath caught at the sharpness of its features, the otherworldly glint in its eyes. It had an angular jawline, skin faintly shimmering as if dusted with illusions-laced starlight, and those ears… tapering upward in a delicate point. I recognized them from old paintings and stories.
A fae.
It was true.
Nova had been right.
I nearly stumbled backward.
A fae?
My mind reeled, recalling how the fae had fled Stonewick with the curse, cutting ties and supposedly sparking enmity with the shifters. Hardly anyone has ever seen them since, and certainly not in Stonewick.
And yet, here was one, kneeling in the Butterfly Garden, rummaging in a satchel of who-knew-what before we came across her.
Or was I just wishing it to be?
Her eyes darted around, landing on me in alarm.
“You… you scared me,” the fae managed, voice tight but melodic. Purple robes fluttered as she rose to her feet, revealing a slender, agile form. Clearly, she didn’t intend to be caught.
I held up my hands in a gesture of peace, heart thudding like crazy.
“Sorry. I, um, didn’t realize anyone else was here. Are you…Are you lost?” I asked.
She turned, the hood slipping back from her face.
Immediately, I saw a wealth of deep red hair tumbling around pointed ears, and a pair of bright green eyes that locked onto mine. A small smile curved her lips, the expression warm yet mysterious.
She snorted softly, a blend of amusement and tension.
“I’m not lost,” she murmured, voice laced with quiet dignity. Then, as if she realized that might sound defensive, she cleared her throat. “I mean, I meant to come to the Academy.”
My mind spun with a thousand questions.
A hush settled between us, broken only by the gentle burble of the garden fountain that remained untouched by the cold in the Butterfly Ward.
Finally, I mustered a shaky laugh. “I’m Maeve. Sorry again for startling you.”
She flicked her gaze up, green eyes almost luminescent
“I know who you are,” she said quietly, scanning my face. “Everyone connected to Stonewick does. I’m Ardetia. Ardetia Featherwood.”
“Nice to meet you. This is Bella, one of our teachers.”
Bella nodded her head and smiled as Ardetia’s gaze swept over both of us.
“Why come back now?” I asked softly. “You’ve been here before.”
“I have.”
She lowered her gaze, fiddling with the edge of her purple robe. The embroidery shimmered, illusions thread weaving arcane patterns.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I heard rumors the Wards are stirring again. That the curse might break, and if the Wards break free, maybe the old alliances can heal too.” Then, as though she caught herself revealing too much, she stiffened. “Besides, I have my reasons for being here. Personal ones.”
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing a fraction. “I see.”
Another hush settled.
I took a calming breath.
“I mean no harm,” I assured her. “But you must know the fae left Stonewick long ago in our time of need…” I hesitated, uncertain how to phrase it.
Her jaw clenched. “I’m aware.”
A flicker of regret crossed her features, replaced by steely resolve. “But the fae never forgot Stonewick, no matter how we parted ways. Some of us kept watch from afar. I am one of them.”
Tentatively, I held out a hand, unsure what else to do. If the Academy was putting out a call and attempting to mend old wounds, I would not stand in the way.
“Welcome to the Academy.”