Page 16 of If The Shoe Fits (A Howlin’ Good Fairytale Retelling #2)
chapter fifteen
T he last thing I expect when Wulfy leads me over to the slipper display is for him to step into full Principal mode and announce that all Academy students should come to the front of the line.
“At the end of the day, this is a fundraiser for the Academy,” he says, his voice carrying effortlessly over the buzz of the ballroom.
My jaw nearly drops when he follows it up with a cheerful, “And Academy students get free turns!”
I whip my head around to glare at him.
Free?
After all the hoops I jumped through to get this display set up and approved?
Before I can protest, he leans down and whispers in my ear, “Relax, Sweet Witch. I already paid the Congo bill for the new decorations.”
The confession catches me completely off guard. I blink up at him, stunned, as he pulls back just enough to wink at me, his lips tugging into that infuriatingly sexy grin.
“You, you paid for it?” I manage to squeak.
He shrugs, all casual, as if it’s no big deal.
“I don’t know if you know this,” he says, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I made a fortune in real estate before I was even out of college.”
I don’t know whether to be impressed, annoyed, or completely charmed. Maybe all three. I mean, sure, his generosity is unexpected.
But damn, if it isn’t kind of hot.
Before I can dwell on it, he clears his throat and turns back to the crowd.
“Attention, everyone!” His voice booms with authority, silencing the chatter. “Professor Troy is going to explain what we’re about to see here.”
He gestures to me with a flourish, effectively handing me the metaphorical microphone, or in this case, the floor.
“Um, thank you,” I begin, stepping forward with what I hope is an air of confidence.
But before I can say another word, someone shouts from the back of the line.
“ W icked Witch!”
The insult echoes across the room, sharp and cutting, and for a moment, the ballroom falls silent. My stomach twists, but before I can even react, Wulfy moves.
And when I say moves , I mean he’s a blur of black-on-black perfection, darting down the line with inhuman speed.
The culprit? A sniveling freshman who looks like he instantly regrets his life choices.
The poor kid actually wets his pants when Wulfy snarls, his amber eyes glowing with the kind of intensity that could reduce even the most stubborn Warlock to tears.
“Mr. Jonathan,” Wulfy growls, his voice low and dangerous, “you are hereby banished from tonight’s ball and will serve detention every day for the next month.”
The freshman squeaks, his face going pale as Wulfy continues.
“That detention will involve cleaning out the garden hog crates,” Wulfy adds, his tone making it clear that this punishment is non-negotiable.
“Now,” he says and straightens his shoulders, his gaze sweeping the crowd like a predator daring anyone to challenge him, “would anyone else care to say anything?”
The group of quivering teenagers collectively shakes their heads, their wide eyes darting anywhere but toward the principal.
I bite back a grin. His over-the-top possessive display is absolutely unnecessary.
It’s also hotter than Hades.
“Thank you, Principal Tremayne,” I murmur, stepping back into the spotlight.
He moves to stand beside me, his warm presence grounding me as I address the students.
“As some of you know,” I begin, “I teach the Moral and Ethical Values class here at the Academy. What you might not know is that, when I was at university, I wrote a thesis called Morals and Magic: The Glass Slipper Theory. ”
I pause, glancing out at the sea of curious faces.
“Tonight, with the help of our beloved Trifecta, and Professor Daniels, I’ve created a glass slipper test based on that theory,” I explain, my nerves wound so tight I can hardly stop shaking.
As if sensing my hesitation, Wulfy shifts closer, his big, warm body brushing against mine. His quiet strength and unwavering support give me the courage to keep going.
Taking a deep breath, I project my voice using a megaphone spell, letting the magic carry my words across the room.
“This experiment is designed to demonstrate how intention shapes magic—and how societal pressures can influence those intentions.”
The students murmur among themselves, intrigued.
“It’s also a way to gauge your ethical and moral levels,” I continue. “By attempting to try on the slippers, you’ll get a sense of how your personal values and integrity align with your magical potential.”
“Professor?” one student pipes up, raising their hand. “Are you saying, if the shoe fits, we’re on the right path morally and magically speaking?”
“Well,” I say, smiling gently, “this is just an experiment. But to put it simply, yes . If the shoe fits , you can be confident knowing you have a strong moral compass. And that compass will serve you well as you grow your powers and strive for magical harmony and balance.”
The students nod thoughtfully, and I add, “Remember, when you try the slippers, focus on one particular thing—an intention, a hope, or a belief. That clarity will help guide the magic.”
As I step back, Wulfy leans down to whisper in my ear, “You’re amazing, Sweet Witch.”
I turn to him, my cheeks warming under his golden gaze, and I can’t help but think that, for once, maybe the shoe really does fit.
“I don’t get it,” one of the kids mutters close enough for me to hear.