Chapter Four
I flashed a smile at Twobble.
He stared at my lips as if I’d personally betrayed him. “Maeve. Don’t do that. I recognize that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I’m about to delegate something unpleasant’ look.” He clutched his clipboard tighter. “Also, I’m hungry. I require nourishment to function.”
I glanced around the Academy and brought my gaze back to his. There was something just so wonderful about being around Twobble. It was like all that mattered in the world were pastries, tea, and more pastries.
“How many scones have you eaten this morning?”
“That feels like an accusation.” His ears twitched.
“It is.”
He sighed dramatically. “Four. Possibly five. One may have been communal.”
“Lunch is soon,” I said. “I’m not abandoning you, but I’m delegating. It’s your job to keep the students from blowing anything up.”
“Just one more scone?” he tried.
“Be nice, and Stella might reward you.”
Stella’s voice floated down from the stairs. “I heard that.”
Twobble froze. “No, you didn’t.”
Keegan kissed my cheek, and I felt that familiar flutter as he stepped back. “I should head to the inn, or Ember will think she owns the place.”
“Well, she does run it most of the time when you’re out gallivanting as a wolf.”
“Whose side are you on?”
I smiled at him and felt the familiar comfort wash over me as he dashed out the door, slipping by some students.
Stella had reneged and given Twobble another scone while he checked in more witches, and I felt the pull to go outside.
As I walked down the steps, I couldn’t ignore the issue pressing on me. I needed to speak with my mom. I woke up feeling it and hadn’t been able to find her or my dad all morning.
Nova wasn’t visible, but I felt her doing her best to keep tension from unraveling. The Wilds felt held for now, but not entirely calm.
Underneath the birdsong and the breeze, something pressed faintly at the edges.
Since the meeting with the orcs, the wolves had been closer. Not crossing the Academy threshold, those rules still stood, but nearer. It wasn’t forbidden. Shifters could come and go, but wolves weren’t known to linger unless something unsettled them. And apparently, orcs did just that.
But I could feel the changes coming. The Academy had been bending lately. It even allowed Gideon to walk its halls. In fact, it insisted.
And the very first creature it let in once it had opened was Twobble, and he’d been known for having an attitude with a pastry problem.
Maybe it was the Academy’s way of survival versus merely flexibility.
Or maybe the Academy was learning it didn’t have to be alone.
Gravel crunched under my boots as I neared the small alley that curved toward town.
That’s when I saw them.
My parents.
They were walking side by side, close but not touching. My mom had her sage scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. My dad’s hands were tucked into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. He didn’t look worried, exactly, but thinking.
They didn’t see me at first, with their heads bent and their voices low. It felt like the kind of conversation people have when they don’t want the wind carrying it too far.
Relief spread through me because I’d been trying to pin them down all morning.
“Hey, where are you two headed?” I asked, smiling.
My mom’s head snapped up, my dad stopped mid-step, and they turned to face me, but something flickered across my mother’s face.
It wasn’t a surprised look but resignation, which seemed odd. Perhaps like she’d been waiting for me, but wanted to avoid me all at the same time.
“How are you this morning?” my dad asked. He winked, and the action immediately brought comfort.
“Good, but we’ve been dealing with the orcs' unrest, which I think is making the wolves nervous, and I’m sure it will start to make the witches a little skittish next.”
My dad nodded. “It’s a balance, but the Academy is doing well at playing host.”
“One step at a time, I suppose.” I turned my attention to my mom and drew a breath.
I saw uneasiness move through her expression, and that was so unlike her, but I had to ask about the Priestess.
“I need to know about my grandmother,” I said softly.
Wind stirred the leaves behind me. Somewhere, a wolf gave a single, short call, and my mom glanced toward the Academy and back at me.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, dreading it really, but I’ll try to help as best I can.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve only held back to help protect you.”
I nodded. “I think we’re past that, but I get it.”
My dad stepped closer to her, solid and steady, and squeezed her shoulders.
“She wasn’t always the Priestess,” my mom began.
“What was her name?”
“Mariselle.”
The name landed softly. It wasn’t ominous, but elegant and controlled.
“She was brilliant,” my mom said. “She didn’t just practice magic. She studied how it moved. How it pooled. How it fractured. She believed that power scattered across towns and covens was inefficient. She felt it needed to be led by one singular authority.”
A shiver ran through me as I thought about her sitting in her compound, playing us all so she could have what…more power?
“So she wanted more control,” I offered.
“Yes.” My mom nodded once. “She wanted Stonewick structured differently. She felt it needed to be tighter and more directed like Shadowick. She believed separation was weakness… that Shadowick and Stonewick should function as one.”
A breeze moved through the branches overhead, carrying the scent of moss and bark.
“When your mom started dating me, she tried to get your mom to mess with the Wards,” my dad said quietly.
“Did you?” I asked.
My mom’s eyes sharpened. “No. Never.”
The wolf call came again, but it was closer this time.
“She studied the Hunger Path,” my mom added. “Mapped it. Talked about redirecting it.”
I thought of Malore. Of Gideon. They were like putty in her hands.
“She wanted more,” I said.
“She always does,” my mom replied. “She mothered me so she could use me, but it took many years for me to realize it. Everything always had an ulterior motive. I didn’t recognize that until I was a teenager.
The less interested I was in her ambitions, the more distant she became.
I didn’t like growing up in Shadowick. Stonewick felt like… .a gift.”
Silence settled briefly, and I thought about the orcs and their territories destabilized, and creatures migrating.
“I don’t think she accounted for consolidation,” I said slowly. “When creatures cluster, strength concentrates.”
With all my heart, I hoped we handled this situation right. There were only so many options as we figured out what to do.
My dad studied me carefully.
“But I’m worried we could also be like sitting ducks.”
“True.” My dad nodded and let out a deep sigh.
“She’s framing this as a choice to me,” I said. “Shadowick or Stonewick.”
“And you don’t think it is?” my dad asked.
I shook my head and met my mother’s gaze.
“She thinks division creates weakness and will allow her to tap into it and lure them to her,” I continued. “But we won’t make it easy on her.”
“You sound like her,” my mom said quietly.
A chill ran over me, and I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “I sound like me.”
“You’re right, but you have the foresight and ability to calculate moves that I never had. I didn’t have the strength to fight or to even believe there was another way. You do. I could never stand up to her, and it’s almost like you can’t wait to confront her.”
I didn’t know what to make of her words. I knew they were meant to be a compliment, but it also felt…worrisome. Wasn’t that what the Priestess hoped? That she could manipulate me or that I was just like her?
Another wolf call echoed, and my dad turned toward the sound.
He frowned and let out a deep breath. “Things are changing in our world.”
I nodded, hugging myself as the fall breeze picked up. “The Academy is changing too.”
We stood in the narrow stretch of path between the Butterfly Ward and town, the Academy behind me and Stonewick ahead.
It all felt frailer than it had yesterday.
My dad kept one hand on my mom’s shoulder now, and I realized that some things were being mended, and maybe that could happen between Shadowick and Stonewick too.
But probably not with the Priestess still calling the shots.
“Mariselle,” I said, trying to humanize her.
My mother gave a small nod, her eyes fixed on the tree line as if she expected someone to step out and correct us.
But then I heard fast, purposeful footsteps.
Caleb barreled around the bend, with breath coming sharp as if he’d run here. He slowed when he saw us, but only barely.
“Maeve,” he said, and the way he said my name carried both urgency and relief. “The new visitors are orcs.”
My pulse ticked up. “From where?”
He shook his head. “You won’t even believe this. Nobody believes this. It’s almost like a celebration over there.”
“What do you mean?”
“The orcs came from up north in the caves, from the islands.”
“Those clans were thought extinct,” my dad said.
“Yes. That’s what we’ve always been told, isn’t it? Gone. Lost. Swallowed by the cold and the stones and whatever else people tell themselves so they don’t have to wonder.” Caleb shook his head.
“How were they accepted?” I asked.
“They came right up to the perimeter,” Caleb continued. “No horns. No challenge. Just… tired. The orcs immediately recognized the northern clan.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and for less than a second, he looked younger than he usually did and less like a man holding a pack together and more like someone who’d just walked into a fairytale.
“They carried the same look as the ones we have here,” he said quietly. “That hungry kind of pride.”
Scarcity and squeezed out.
My throat tightened, and I shook my head. “She got to them too. She knew they were still up there.”