Page 25

Dammit, these people, this place…

“Never believe rumors, Ms. Easterly. I told everyone that, in the coming days, I will be interviewing the teachers to ascertain their suitability for a place at Dragons. I think you will find that I meant it. You and the rest of the scholarship girls will have a chance to discuss your situation before any decision is made regarding the existing arrangements.”

Lily perked up, although Magdalene regretted encouraging her so prematurely, and extracted herself from Sam’s hold and, with hastily murmured thanks and embarrassed goodbyes, made her way out of the office.

Well, that was over.

“It’s not fair, you know.”

Magdalene wanted to flinch. She wanted to ball up her hands and shake them at the Almighty, if she only believed in such a deity.

Sam. So damn naïve.

“Fairness is a nonexistent concept. I assume you don’t think it’s fair that I interview the scholarship students while everybody else will be allowed to arrive back in two months without having their presence here questioned, because their parents have the money to pay for it?”

“Yeah… That.” Sam faltered, obviously stumped by the bluntness of the retort. Magdalene couldn’t help a little taunt.

“Eloquence itself, I see. Scholarships are always a very touchy subject at any private school. I imagine, given the circumstances, they will be a similarly sensitive issue here at Dragons. You know the Academy’s Charter does not provide for any kind of student funding from outside of the school? And the current scholarship arrangement is exploring a loophole where funding is taken directly from the endowment, hence not considered technically an outside source. It’s not exactly within the scope of the charter.”

“It should be, though.Love one another, help one another–aren’t these oh-so-Christian beliefs?” Sam’s counter would be considered blasphemous inside these hallowed halls at best and insubordinate at worst. And while Magdalene did not give a damn about the former, and reveled in the fact that Sam was turning out to be very much a like-minded soul on the subject of Christianity, the latter was something she refused to deal with at this moment.

“Be that as it may.”

Magdalene moved closer to the massive window overlooking the quad, the familiar sight unexpectedly soothing. As unexpectedly as Sam’s presence. When had she unclenched her jaw? Nonetheless, she had some questions she needed the answers to. She might as well get to them.

“It occurred to me that, for someone so eager to introduce herself on another occasion, Sam, you are remarkably taciturn on this particular subject, now that my knowing your name is infinitely more important. There is no Sam on the list of faculty at Three Dragons.”

She turned to fully face Sam, who was intently staring at her beaten up Converses. Was she suddenly shy? She certainly hadn’t been about confronting and challenging Magdalene earlier.

“There is, or at least there was, before you fired everyone, a Samantha Threadneedle on that faculty list.”

Magdalene chose not to take the bait. Instead, she simply tilted her head to the side and continued to observe.

She remembered that teacher’s file. Accolades, accomplishments, single-handedly lending the school credibility. Yet once a charity case, since there was no other way to explain her presence at the school when she’d been a student. The first scholarship child was standing right in front of her, all grown up.

“Samantha… Lovely name.” Sam’s eyes went wide as saucers and Magdalene wanted to smirk. It was good to feel at least a tiny bit in control and not allow this infuriating woman to get under her skin like this.

Yet when Sam finally controlled her blush and found her voice, Magdalene was the one left sucker-punched.

“Is this your version of Miranda Priestly, where you call me by my full name now, in a show of how special I am or how different you are in contrast to the rest of us here, Headmistress? First of all, I’m not sure you could pull off a Miranda Priestly, and second, allow me to inform you that, despite what you might think, and despite whichever version of my name you might prefer, it is my name, after all, and I prefer Sam.”

Sam blinked, then her mouth went slack. It was clear she hadn’t expected Magdalene’s outright laughter as a reaction to her pronouncement. But it was either laugh at her or kiss that serious mouth senseless. Exasperating. Infuriating. Utterly naïve, yet so damn irresistible.

“Touché, Sam it is then.” And under her eyes, Sam’s smile turned soft, shy. Magdalene hurried past this moment, lest she say something absolutely unsuitable like, ‘how cute you are when your dimples are showing’.

“Also, you mentioned being fired. Indeed, but if I were you, Ms. Threadneedle, I wouldn’t be as concerned about your position.”

“Why? Because you slept with me?” It was like a strike in the solar plexus, and in the haze of her own shock, Magdalene saw Sam’s hand fly up to her mouth, obviously stunned at the words she’d been so bold, so careless to blurt out. Further proof that the woman was intelligent, attractive, combative, and reckless. And occasionally too honest for her own good.

“My, my, you just can’t seem to help yourself, can you?” Magdalene looked her dead in the eye, and Sam slowly lowered hers in what appeared like an apology. Well, maybe Magdalene could be magnanimous this once and disregard the potential for her own ruination. If word got out that she had this massive conflict of interest at Dragons, all her plans would go up in smoke.

“And to answer your question, no, not for… that reason.” She stumbled over the words. And she really didn’t know how to refer to what had happened between them. It was a one-night stand, but the syntagm seemed to cheapen it. Magdalene shook her head and bit the inside of her cheek. She really needed to rid herself of these thoughts.

“The answer to your questions is because there are no circumstances under which I would not rehire the New England Teacher of the Year and recipient of the Governor’s Honors this past school year. Which is commendable for someone of your relatively tender age. Brava, Miss Threadneedle. Though why so camera-shy? None of the awards or articles were accompanied by your picture…”

The color popped back into those sharp cheekbones, like streaks of shame. Magdalene narrowed her eyes. She knew what it felt like to be singled out, for the positive and for the negative. And when one sought anonymity, being chosen—for anything—felt like reproach. Like a burden. And so she lowered her voice, gentled it, an olive branch to smooth the uncomfortable position she had put Sam in.

“I may be a newcomer, Ms. Threadneedle, but I never come into a new situation unprepared. With your former headmistress unequipped, and her deputy obviously unable to insert herself into this situation, I trust you will find it within yourself to help me with the transition?”