Page 33

“That’s okay though.” The disheveled head bowed, and Sam took a steadying breath. “I was spared any further boring gatherings over dry turkey. So no hard feelings on my part. Alden didn’t even read me the riot act or punish me in any other way. Hell, he even left me the Christmas present that had been stashed under the massive spruce in the Tullingers’ foyer, so I guess he was not entirely disapproving of my behavior. Anyway, long story short, Joel has stayed away from me since then, and his nose has been giving him trouble from being set wrong, from what I gather. Score one for the ‘dirty orphan.’”

They had thrown her out. Again. Like a stray kitten. Packed her away. Out of sight, out of mind. The grass under Magdalene’s fingers was wet, like congealed blood, as she tore through it with ease, fingers digging into the dirt with savage abandon. Grown men playing gods yet again. She hated them.

“I bet you’d have expelled me for fighting, Headmistress.”

Sam’s words jolted her out of her violent desire to rip these people limb from limb. She was glad that Sam had misinterpreted her anger, as it was now combined with the misery incurred by both Sam and her at the hands of these men. After all, it would involve way too much explaining, and she wasn’t ready for that.

Ready for that? Why was she even considering it?

She bit the inside of her cheek and took a careful breath before speaking.

“Considering the way your mere presence continues to intimidate Joel and how you still jump in feet first to defend lost causes, I believe you can’t be saved from your hooligan ways, Professor Threadneedle. And speaking of things that cannot be saved…”

She looked past Sam and gazed steadily down at the ocean, its rhythmic motion hypnotizing her as the waves calmed her yet again. They always did. And so did the jasmine, both at her pulse points and all around her, the late blossoms engulfing her in that elusive sense of peace.

It helped her utter the next words, knowing that they would likely cause a conflagration. Sam’s temper was something she was already quite familiar with.

“I am leaning towards not hiring Doctor Fenway for the position of English Chair. Her interview was a mess, and her leadership has been nothing short of lacking in the past years.”

She could see Sam’s throat work.

“This school is her entire life.”

Magdalene turned away from her companion. She had a pretty good idea why Sam was pleading. Just a few days ago, she had summarily dismissed both Ruth Trufault and Jen Rovington, and a whole slew of others. She even had replacements lined up for most of them already. She hadn’t hired them yet, mostly because she still faltered in her decision about her final goal for the school, close or keep, but her pragmatism did not allow her to not have contingency plans.

Still, the idea that Sam was begging her to save this woman—the one who was chiefly responsible for the state of the school—rankled. Magdalene chose not to consider the why. Did it really matter?

“I am hard-pressed to believe that. The school is in ruins, Professor, and while a large part of that is due to the neglect that the trustees have inflicted on the Academy and the endowment, her decisions as headmistress were equally ruinous. Surely you can see that now that you’ve been privy to some of them.”

Magdalene had seen Sam’s face blanch quite a few times during the Transition Committee’s financial meetings. Claiming ignorance was no longer a choice.

Sam bit her lower lip before her jaw set into the stubborn line that Magdalene had also started to recognize. She sighed. No, she hadn’t expected this particular decision to be received without issue, but Sam was in full war mode.

“I think it’s easy to cast stones post-factum, Headmistress.” The rise of Sam’s tone—from calm and sad to piercing—told a story in itself, and it only spurred Magdalene into sarcasm.

“Ah, the aforementioned defense of lost causes and the famed loyalty. That was another quality of yours that people kept bringing up. Your loyalty. You have quite a number of commendable traits. I can attest to some of them myself.”

The last line had been absolutely uncalled for, but it was like a conflagration of two unstoppable forces meeting in a shock of fireworks. Eyes blazing, Sam looked back at her, angry, beautiful.

For God’s sake, Magdalene.

“I would appreciate it if we kept this professional, Headmistress.”

Well, touché. And so Magdalene just nodded for Sam to continue. “I also appreciate that you have a hard task, but surely you are making it much harder by dismissing people who are qualified pedagogues. Orla Fenway may be a bad headmistress in your eyes, but she is an esteemed teacher in the eyes of hundreds. And not only are you firing her, you are further alienating the faculty and the student body with your… decisions.”

Magdalene shook her head and allowed for the deep sigh she’d been holding back to slip out.

This woman…Of all people, God, why this woman?

“Well,directandhonestwere mentioned as well.” Before Sam could explode in another outburst of outrage, Magdalene waved her away. Now was not the time to tease. Nowwasthe time for some very painful truths, and Sam would have to just accept them, because whilst loyalty was a nice quality, willful ignorance was not.

“Professor Threadneedle, I will do everything and anything to ensure that the school perseveres. That it survives. Too much is riding on my success. You seem to operate under some misguided conviction that I care about what the faculty or the student body think. I couldn’t care less. That is not how this school will thrive. You have all been coddled and sheltered, and left to rot in slovenliness and complacency. Orla Fenway might be a stellar teacher, but she was indeed a disaster of a headmistress.”

Magdalene blinked and did a double take. She intended on throwing some uncomfortable facts in Sam’s face, but the words that had tumbled out of her mouth surprised even her. And now that they had, she didn’t know what to do with them. They hung in the air like fog, obscuring what lay beyond, hiding the very reasoning for their existence from her eyes.

As Sam jumped to her feet and stalked towards the cliff, either to distance herself from Magdalene or to try to reign in her noticeable temper, a chill ran through Magdalene as she found herself missing the warmth of her closeness.

“Orla Fenway has kept Dragons alive while those people you seem to bow to did nothing to help her!” Sam half-turned as she spoke, the wind further disheveling her braid, the escaping hair framing the tumultuous face.