Page 17 of The Headmistress

But this fight wasn’t about her anymore. This was larger than anything else Magdalene had proposed so far. She could do away with half the faculty, hell, all the faculty and Dragons would survive. But to do away with the very foundation of the school?

To dissolve the Houses… Sam did not really have a simile for how that would affect Dragons. Hell, they probably would have a revolt on their hands. The Old Dragonettes—the graduates of the school—might even march on the island, and burn Magdalene in effigy or some such thing.

The low husky voice dripping with sarcasm and derision brought Sam out of her harrowing musings.

“From your highly intelligent facial expressions and lack of opposition, I can surmise that you are all on board?” Magdalene smirked into her mug and Sam felt her face heat up at the audacity.

“With all due respect, Headmistress—”

A regal hand rose to stop whatever Sam was going to sputter next.

“Every time I hear anyone begin their tirade with ‘all due respect,’ I assume none of the said respect is about to be given.”

George laughed out loud, and Joel gave out that scratchy half giggle of his before quickly sobering, perhaps remembering that it was Sam’s attempted defense of the Houses he was laughing at, and extending a tentative hand towards Magdalene.

“Surely you’re joking?” His tone was incredulous as if deciding whether to take the whole proposal as a ruse or start puffing up in outrage at the realization that it was completely serious.

“Headmistress—” Sam tried again.

“If you are about to tell me that the Houses are the oldest tradition, that they unify, that they teach teamwork, that they band the girls together in battle or whatever utterly inane demagoguery they’ve been feeding you since you were a student here yourself Professor Threadneedle, I would ask you not to proceed any further.”

Sam bit her lower lip and nodded, biding her time. Getting into a major altercation in front of others would not do her any good.

So when David stood up and offered to wait for her after the meeting was adjourned, Sam just shook her head. He rolled his eyes and then gave her the thumbs up. Yeah, yeah, he was rooting for Sam. So was Joanne, who was still due to have her re-hiring interview, and so was Orla, who by some miracle, was still around. Sam made a mental note to ask Magdalene if she’d changed her mind about the former headmistress.

Joel stood up quickly, but before he opened his mouth—surely to spew whatever high-handed invective, after finally realizing that the new headmistress was about to single-handedly dismantle the very soul of the school—once again a single dismissive gesture of a graceful hand was enough to swiftly shut him up.

“Joel, we can discuss this further. I’m sure your knowledge, understanding, and insightful advice will guide me and shape my opinion further on this matter, and if all else fails, you can help me articulate my position better.”

He puffed up at the unexpected praise, and Sam wanted to simultaneously gag at the fake compliment Magdalene was paying his nonexistent intellect, and at how neatly she put him not just in his place, but in her corner. Even if he staunchly opposed the reform, he was now duty-bound to help Magdalene. A beautiful woman was relying on him after all. God, men could be simpletons, all of them. He bowed to her rather clumsily, though Sam knew he fancied himself charming, and exited the office, almost stepping on the swaggering-in Willoughby, whose arrival signaled eleven o’clock. As Joel cursed under his breath, Willoughby just meowed something that sounded decidedly profane in the direction of the departing trustee and continued on his path, undeterred.

To Sam’s surprise, Magdalene did not even bat an eye as the massive ginger cat hefted his considerable bulk up on the windowsill and made himself comfortable on his pillow. Sam wondered how the hell the aforementioned pillow was still on the windowsill, with Magdalene showing her displeasure at every opportunity that the ‘mangy animal’ was being allowed to roam the school.

As Willoughby kneaded his bedding—that had, by some miracle, escaped the Headmistress’ wrath—and stretched before making a neat cat loaf and proceeding to purr as loudly as a tractor, Magdalene gave Sam a long look out of eyes that were more amber than aquamarine in the summer sun.

“I assume you’ve stayed behind to plead the case for the Houses.”

“Yes.”

Magdalene stood up and, to Sam’s even bigger surprise, extended a slender hand and gave Willoughby’s ear a quick scratch. The cat—who tolerated absolutely no touching—leaned into the caress and purred louder. Traitor, Sam thought, even if she herself craved the feeling of long, graceful fingers on her skin. Unbidden, a memory of those cool hands holding her face as that lush mouth took everything it wanted from her—her breath and her sanity—intruded with the power of a sledgehammer.

“Don’t...”

The quiet, husky sound, more an exhalation than an actual spoken word, shook Sam out of her reverie. Magdalene’s face was shadowed, but the expressive eyes gave her away. Just as they had given her away at that bar, showing her interest, emboldening Sam to make the first move by sending her a drink. The hooded eyes had seen right through her then and did so now, effectively guessing exactly what memory Sam was reliving.

The moment stretched between them for what seemed like an eternity, and Sam thought it had to be some perverse god’s cruel joke to bring Magdalene to Dragons. Of all the people who could have become the new Headmistress, and by virtue of that were forever out of Sam’s reach, it had to be Magdalene. Of all the people who were cutting and tearing Sam’s beloved Dragons to pieces, it had to be the one woman who’d taken her apart and put her back together in the space of one night in Manhattan. It had to be Magdalene. Sam hoped that the aforementioned deity had a good laugh, cruel bastard that it was.

Sam shook her head slightly, willing both of them to move past the awkwardness of the moment and the clear yearning that was surely all over her face. To break the deadlock they found themselves in, Sam chose to change the subject to something if not easier, then at least something that probably already had a concrete resolution.

“Have you made a decision on Professor Fenway?”

Magdalene faltered slightly in scratching under Willoughby’s chin, and the cat opened his eyes which had been slit in ecstasy seconds ago and gave Sam what she could only interpret as a glare for having caused the interruption. How he knew, Sam had no idea, but he definitely blamed her, his feline disdain evident.

“Yes, I decided to keep Professor Fenway at Dragons. She agreed to a probationary year as English Chair. We shall see how it goes.”

Sam’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh, and she saw the sensuous full lips curl into a little smile.

“Well, that’s… well, that’s good. Thank you. May I ask what changed your mind?”

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