Chapter 66
Maeve
I can’t believe this is it. Graduation day.
It doesn’t feel real. I’ve been working toward this moment for four years, and now that it’s here, I almost feel like I’m walking through a dream.
I close my eyes for a moment, reaching for the storm stirring in my veins, along with the warmth of the bond that now lives inside my chest. Permanent. Ours.
At the other end of the bond, Severin stirs, and my lips lift into a small smile.
“Are you ready yet?” Alina calls up to me from downstairs.
I open my eyes, and my gaze flicks to Isis, who’s curled around the edge of the mirror.
“How do I look?” I ask her.
She flicks her tongue and nods her head once. “Beautiful. Powerful.” She eases onto my arm when I offer it, then makes her way up to my neck, where she curls around my throat. “You look ready.”
I look at myself in the mirror again, then smile. “I think I am.”
Downstairs, I find Alina, Lyra, Poppy, Yuki, and Juniper gathered in the sitting room, eating cupcakes that Poppy’s mom made just for the occasion. When the girls see me, they make room in their circle, and Poppy holds the cupcake platter out to me.
Sitting on it is a perfect chocolate cupcake frosted with purple icing and topped with a zigzag of white—like a bolt of lightning.
“This one’s for you,” Poppy says.
I glance at Alina and Lyra. They’re eating blue and red cupcakes, respectively, and it brings me a smile.
“Your mom made us custom cupcakes?”
Poppy nods, offering me the tray again.
This time, I take the cupcake.
Isis hisses, “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
I agree. But I also know what an amazing baker Layla Waverly is, so I eat it anyway.
We finish our cupcakes and wipe crumbs from our lips, and when we’re done, we look at one another.
We’re all dressed in the black-and-silver graduation robes, though Alina’s does have some hair on it from Yuki, who’s sitting on one of the couches, gazing up at her.
And a moment ago, Juniper hopped into one of Lyra’s pockets, just out of view.
“Well,” Alina says, glancing between us, her big blue eyes catching the sunlight. “We did it.”
Lyra exhales a heavy breath, blowing a bouncy red curl from her eyes. “Somehow.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
Poppy just stands there, smiling at us, and when I look at her, I realize big wet tears are gathering in her eyes.
“Don’t do it,” I say, holding out a hand to try to stop her.
“I can’t help it.” She sniffles, and a few tears start rolling down her cheeks. “I love you girls so much.”
We all exchange looks, then step forward at the same time to wrap Poppy in a group hug. Like all the years before, we exchange laughter and hold one another close, and by the time we back away, we have to wipe tears from our cheeks.
Alina clears her throat and straightens her shoulders, a princess even when she doesn’t mean to be. “Are we ready?” she asks.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for this moment, but I find myself nodding. It’s time.
Lyra loops her arm through Alina’s, and I take Poppy’s.
And together, the four of us walk out of the dorm room and into the stairwell, where Raelan is waiting for us, as always.
Together, we walk forward toward the rest of our lives.
THE GRADUATION CEREMONY IS HELD on the campus grounds, in the center of the main courtyard. Rows of chairs have been set up in careful lines, and a raised platform stands at the front, draped in purple and silver banners—Coven Crest colors.
The castle stands tall and proud behind the dais, stone towers reaching for the pale blue sky, with flags flapping in the warm breeze. The sky looks clear now, but in the distance, I can feel a storm moving in, gathering just over the horizon.
The fourth-years are seated in the first few rows, with the rest of the chairs occupied by friends and family. I turn in my chair to glance through the assembled faces, and a big green orc catches my eye.
My stepbrother, Aric. He’s sitting next to my mother and stepfather, grinning like a fool, his tusks gleaming in the summer light.
“Hey, Pops.” I jostle her arm.
“Hmm?” She turns and catches sight of Aric, and she raises one hand to wave, her cheeks already turning pink.
Those two are so damn sweet together.
“You’re going to have the cutest babies,” I tell her.
Immediately, her lavender eyes go wide, and she stutters, “B-babies?”
With a laugh, I turn back around in my seat and ease my arm around Poppy’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “I will always love teasing you. You know that, right?”
Her glasses wink in the sunlight as she gives me a smile and a nod. “I know.”
On my other side, Lyra is looking around, and I can tell when she sees who she’s been looking for.
I follow her gaze, and sure enough, I find Cairn, the former minotaur groundskeeper of Coven Crest, standing in the shade beneath one of the towering trees, looking both clean and somewhat uncomfortable in his nice suit.
The thick green grass is deep enough to almost hide his hooves.
“That suit looks good on him,” I whisper to Lyra.
She whips her head to face me, crimson eyes narrowing as a catlike smile curls across her lips. “Right? I can’t wait to get it off later.”
I laugh once, shaking my head. Then my eyes scan the crowd again.
But I still haven’t found who I’m looking for.
A ripple goes through the crowd, whispers rising into a murmur, and I turn back around in my seat to see that Headmistress Moonhart has stepped out of the castle and is standing on the stairs, speaking with . . .
“Is that the king?” Lyra says beside me.
It is, and everyone around us seems to notice him at the same moment.
He’s smiling at something the headmistress said, the crown nestled atop his head catching the sunlight and reflecting it back in tiny glimmers of light. Alina’s mother and father stand beside him—I recognize them from the Yule ball Alina invited us to our first year at Coven Crest.
The king lifts Headmistress Moonhart’s hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles, making the crowd titter.
I glance at Alina, and she rolls her eyes.
“He’s a shameless flirt,” she whispers as her grandfather starts down the stairs and toward the crowd, followed by Alina’s mother and father.
Everyone watches the king, but he’s busy looking for Alina, scanning the crowd with pale eyes. And when he spots her, his wrinkled face breaks into a wide grin. He waves, rings on his fingers gleaming, mouthing, “I’m so proud of you.”
Alina turns a delicate shade of pink as everyone turns to look at her.
The king takes a seat next to Raelan, who’s wearing formal regalia today—and looking somewhat uncomfortable in it. Alina’s mother and father join them, and the four of them draw more stares and whispers as they get settled.
But at that moment, Headmistress Moonhart climbs the stairs onto the dais, and the crowd focuses on her instead.
“Welcome,” she says, her voice projecting over the assembled crowd.
The courtyard quiets, conversations and whispers fading until all that’s left is the sound of the breeze moving through the trees and the snap of the flags atop the tall towers.
Headmistress Moonhart lets the silence settle, her blue-eyed gaze sweeping over us, taking it all in. Then she smiles.
“It is always a pleasure to gather here at the close of the academic year, to celebrate not only what has been accomplished but also what lies ahead.” Her eyes focus on the first few rows of students.
“Each of you seated before me has spent years within these walls, learning, failing, trying again, and growing into someone stronger than you were when first you arrived.”
Deep in my chest, there’s a stirring of emotion. Lyra reaches over and takes my hand. I give her fingers a squeeze, then reach for Poppy’s hand, and she reaches for Alina’s, until all four of us are connected.
The headmistress continues, speaking of responsibility, choice, and the way magic is shaped not just through power but through the heart of the person who wields it.
I listen closely, trying to engrain this moment into my memory: the warmth of the sun on my back, the smell of the earth, the dance of the breeze through my hair.
I’ll never be here again. Four years have led me to this moment, and I don’t want to forget a second of it.
“Now,” Headmistress Moonhart says, straightening up where she stands at the lectern on the raised platform, “let us recognize this year’s Coven Crest graduates.”
One line at a time, the students assemble at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dais.
The headmistress begins to call names, and each student makes their way onto the platform to receive their scroll of completion, then descends the opposite side.
There’s quiet applause for each student, their family and friends celebrating them as they cross the stage.
Then it’s time for our row to stand. We do, shuffling out of our seats and walking across the deep grass to stand in a line at the bottom of the dais. There’s a delicate tug in my chest, and it calls my eyes to scan the crowd.
And this time, finally, I find him.
Severin stands back from the crowd, in a patch of shade cast by a tall oak tree overhead. The breeze tousles his dark hair and makes the leaves on the tree whisper. There’s a rigidity in his posture, as always, but a softness in his crimson eyes.
And when he smiles—a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth—I know it’s just for me.
I smile back, then turn as another name is called, our line moving forward toward the platform.
Of the four of us, Alina is the first to be called.
“Alina Rowena Ravenscroft.”
The applause for Alina is louder than it’s been for the other students, primarily because the king is clapping wildly, a few tears glittering on his cheeks. She ascends the stairs and glides across the platform, smiling wide as she takes her scroll from the headmistress.
Our line moves forward.
“Poppy Everly Waverly.”
I give Poppy’s fingers one last squeeze, and then she climbs the stairs.