Chapter Seventeen
For a few breathless seconds, my brain refused to accept what I was hearing. Growls rolled clearly through the air, and Caleb and Keegan went outside to check on what could possibly be going on in the darkness of the early morning.
I peeked out the window and saw wolves in formation, their shapes layered against the shadows. Orc silhouettes stood farther out along the tree line. They looked broad and immovable.
And yet, in the middle of it, at the edge where the yard blurred into the woods, the figure stood as if he’d always belonged there.
Cloaked. Hood up. Still.
The outline was too big to be my mom or the Priestess.
My stomach tightened. It wasn’t from fear alone but from the sheer impossibility of what I was seeing.
I’d been bracing for any number of disasters tonight.
I’d been prepared to face the consequences of my mother’s letter, the questions that kept clawing through me, and the way my mind wanted to sprint into the dark and drag her back by force of will.
But I knew that wasn’t an option.
And here I thought the dream with Gideon would be the worst of things.
As I stared into the shadows, my head throbbed behind my eyes and settled into a dull ache, and my stomach felt hollow and furious at the same time.
I watched the figure stay still.
Whoever it was had thought better of a dramatic entrance. There was no shadow flare or theatrical flourish.
But there was plenty of presence.
And that was when it hit me.
Oh.
Keegan stood a few steps away. His posture was steady, but he was ready to spring into action. I watched the muscles in his shoulders pull tight beneath the moonlight.
Caleb hovered near Keegan with his eyes fixed on the tree line. His weight was balanced like he could become a wolf again in a heartbeat.
“I think…” I looked over at Keegan. “I think that’s Gideon.”
Keegan angled his head toward me. “Gideon.”
I nodded once. “He came to me in my dream tonight. I would have told you, but everything else seemed to blur its importance.”
Caleb’s gaze flicked to me, sharp and assessing. Even in human form, he had that wolf way of listening.
“In the Hedge,” Keegan echoed, quieter.
I looked out to see the figure remain at the edge of the yard. A hood shadowed his face, and he wasn’t close enough for me to see his features clearly. But I didn’t need to.
My bones knew.
Keegan’s voice was low, careful. “A dream?”
“Yes. He had something to give me, or so he said. He looked exhausted, but he told me that being near him for too long would bring danger to our doorstep.”
“Then what changed his mind?” Keegan lifted his brows.
“I don’t know.”
Keegan’s jaw flexed, and I saw the flicker of something protective in his eyes.
“Why would he tell you it’s too dangerous to see you and then come to the Ward?”
It was such a practical question that I couldn’t help but wonder what the answer was.
I glanced back toward the figure and still saw him motionless, watching.
“In the dream, he said he didn’t want to draw her attention to the Ward.”
“The Priestess,” Keegan muttered, not taking his gaze away from the hooded figure.
“Yes, the Priestess,” I whispered.
My skin prickled, and I let out a deep breath.
“He told me she’s hunting him and he can’t stay in one place too long.”
Keegan nodded and brought his gaze back to mine.
I heard Caleb exhale slowly, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it rattled me.
But he wasn’t panicking. Caleb was merely thinking aloud. Wolves did that. They let fear exist without letting it steer them, and I’d learned to trust it, mostly.
“If that’s him, then he’s either desperate or reckless.” Caleb straightened and looked at Keegan.
My stomach clenched just as the figure shifted, and my birthmark warmed.
“It has to be him,” I said, touching my hip.
Keegan nodded. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be.”
Keegan nodded once, not pleased, but accepting that my instincts mattered here.
“I need to see,” I said, and the words came out before I could soften them.
“Maeve.”
“I know.” I shook my head. “I know what you’re going to say. That it could be reflective magic. That it could be a lure.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed slightly, but I didn’t know if it was out of annoyance or awe.
“If he’s here, then there’s a reason, and it must be big or at least important.”
“I recognize that look in your eyes.” Keegan studied me, and I nodded.
Caleb’s voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “If you go to him, we go too.”
Keegan’s nod came immediately. “We’ll be close behind.”
Relief surged through me, and I didn’t realize how worried I was about going out there alone. I would have done it, but having them by my side made things more…secure.
“Thank you, but let’s all remember what he did for us with the orcs. I know there’s a lot of history, but I don’t want him to bolt. Maybe, he’ll know something about my mom.”
Twobble cleared his throat. “If I may, I don’t think this is a swell idea.”
My gaze fell to Twobble’s shoulder. “Twobble, where’s Cindy?”
He froze. “What do you mean?” His hand slipped up to his shoulder in an instant to feel the empty space. Sparkly slime attached to his fingers as panic pulsed through him.
“Cindy. Where are you?” He started crawling on the floor. “Do you see any sparkle trails?”
Keegan traded a glance with me, and I had to bite my tongue to stop from laughing.
“Is that one going to the kitchen?” Caleb asked, bending over.
“It is. Bless you, wolf.”
My dad walked in from the kitchen, and we all heard a crunch. Twobble squealed, and I gasped.
Twobble rushed over as my dad bent over and lifted his foot.
“She’s not sparkling any longer,” Twobble sobbed.
My dad scowled, grabbing a tissue from his pocket. “Who’s not sparkling? That’s a sugar cube.”
Twobble clutched his heart, and Keegan snickered as my dad looked over at us.
“She’s not…she’s not gone?” Twobble stared at the granules of sugar, pressed his finger to them, and licked. “Not Cindy.”
“What in the world is going on?” my dad asked while Twobble tried to compose himself.
“We’ve got Gideon out front and Twobble lost Cindy,” I explained.
“The snail is in the kitchen on the bay plant,” my dad told Twobble, who looked like he was ready to collapse, and had I not had more pressing matters out front, I would have hugged him.
Keegan’s eyes stayed on mine a beat longer than necessary, and I felt that familiar, traitorous flutter in my chest. Even in dark times, we somehow manage to find the light. All of us.
“For the record, I’m not cornering him,” Keegan said quietly. “But I’m guarding you.”
“What are you talking about?” my dad asked, glancing at Keegan and then at me. “You’re not thinking about waltzing out to meet Gideon.”
“I am. He might know something about mom.”
“Since I know you’ll go regardless of my two cents, I’m coming with you.” He smiled, and I felt a little tightness loosen in my chest.
“Okay, now or never,” Caleb said as I walked over to the door.
Caleb glanced toward the wolves holding the Ward line. He lifted a hand in a small signal.
The pack adjusted.
No one broke formation. They simply shifted where they stood. One wolf padded closer to the porch while another moved toward the trees, narrowing the space between them.
There was no sound or hesitation, just the quiet certainty of wolves who had done this many times before. I stepped outside and felt the chill of the early morning air while the sun still chose to sleep.
Above us, Karvey shifted his weight on the roof. Stone scraped softly against the shingles before his voice rolled down into the night, low and rough like an old bell.
“Don’t step beyond the Ward without telling me first,” he rumbled.
“Okay.” I nodded.
“You can’t see what I see when you’re down there,” he replied. His voice carried no humor now. “If the shadows move, I’ll know.”
That was oddly reassuring.
Gargoyles on the roof were not the worst guardians to have.
Behind me, the cottage door creaked open. Warm light spilled across the porch and into the yard, softening the darkness just enough that the place felt like a home again instead of a battlefield.
Twobble appeared first, of course he did, wrapped in something that looked suspiciously like one of my blankets and clutching a lantern as if he’d been appointed official nighttime supervisor. Cindy was back on his shoulder, and his eyes were wide, his face pale beneath the lamplight.
Twobble’s gaze landed on the cloaked figure at the edge of the yard, and his words died in his throat.
“This feels rather ominous,” Twobble whispered.
Behind him, Grandma Elira stepped onto the porch with Miora at her side. Elira’s hair was loose, silver catching moonlight like thread. Miora looked as she always did—composed, grounded, as if she could walk through any crisis and still remember where she put the kettle.
Elira’s gaze went straight to the figure, and something in her expression tightened into caution.
“Maeve,” she said softly.
I didn’t look back. “I know. I’ll be careful.”
Miora’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s Gideon?”
“I think it is,” I whispered.
Twobble took a single step forward as if he meant to follow us.
Keegan’s head snapped toward him, expression not unkind but unmistakably firm. “No.”
Twobble’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I’m not a child,” he whispered fiercely. “I’m a goblin of experience and profound bravery. Also, if this is Gideon, I would like to personally tell him—”
“No,” Keegan repeated, softer but somehow more final.
Twobble’s shoulders sagged, and then he looked at me with that raw, guilty tenderness he’d been carrying since my mother left.
“I should have stopped her,” he murmured.
The words punched me right in the ribs. Not because they were new—he’d said it already—but because now, under moonlight and threat, they carried the weight of everything we were failing to control.
I forced myself to look at him then, just for a second.
“Twobble,” I said quietly, “you didn’t make her choice.”
His eyes shone, and he blinked hard. “But I watched her walk away.”