Page 81 of Magdalene Nox

The silence that ensued was deafening. Even Willoughby was no longer hissing, sitting on his haunches, tail wrapped around his legs, watching Sam with his head turned slightly to the side. The trustees were clearly astonished by the audacity, one and all, and George had her mouth open in stupefaction.

Magdalene felt lightheaded, she felt lifted, protected, something that she had never experienced before. She wanted to cheer. Pump her fist in the air. She wanted to take Sam on this very desk, witnesses be damned, because what had just taken place was so unprecedented in her life, so truly special.

But before Magdalene could do anything, the one person who had yet to say a word or make any kind of gesture suddenly took center stage.

With a slow, showy clap, Orla stepped around Sam, turned to face the room, her back now to Magdalene, and continued to applaud. After an awkward moment, Alden joined in, then Timothy, eliciting a gasp from Sam. Only Joel and Rolffe, still fuming, did not join in the ovation. And Magdalene would be damned if she’d follow Orla Fenway into anything, much less into what was sure to be a trap of some kind.

She caught the disappointment in Sam’s eyes, but decided that glaring at Orla was good enough to show her lover what she truly thought about this particular actor’s gambit.

Clearly oblivious to Magdalene’s distrust, Orla preened as all eyes were on her. Even her voice took on the shrill quality of someone positively manic under all that attention.

“From the mouths of babes, then.” Orla gave Sam a rather condescending smile. “Professor Threadneedle made a major point. But in her white knight standup act, she also overlooked the massive turmoil that the school will be thrown into due to the unilateral decisions announced by Headmistress Nox today.”

Sam sucked in her lip and squared her shoulders, and Magdalene saw the hurt in her eyes and wanted to allay it. Hadn’t Sam witnessed enough to know not to trust Orla’s so-called good intentions yet? The road to hell was now fully paved with them, right down to and way past the entrance. But seeing Sam being mocked by her own mentor, whom she still cherished, pulled at Magdalene’s already battered heart.

Well, slapping back Orla Fenway was one of her favorite pastimes, after all, and so Magdalene sighed and took a deft swipe at Orla in an attempt to also end the ghastly display of selfishness and theatrics from the majority of the trustees.

“While I can theoretically be criticized by the board, since that is their oversight role, I will not be berated for my decisions—which, as has already been established, I am not obliged to have pre-approved nor do I have to consult with anyone—let alone a subordinate. Now, if we are finished here, I have a school to run.”

“I don’t think we are even close to being finished!” Magdalene sighed as Joel clearly felt his previous tantrum had not been given proper attention. “Anyone who thinks that what you pulled today is not a stunt is delusional, and you, in turn, are delusional if you think I’ll simply let it go.”

Magdalene visualized herself re-breaking his nose. “Stunt? Whatever could you be referring to…” She shrugged theatrically, knowing that her exaggerated nonchalance would only inflame Joel further, but that devilish side of hers just couldn’t help itself.

“The lesbian cleric for one. The scholarships for two. Do you really think I don’t see what you’re trying to do here? A lesbian pastor? At a girls’ school?”

As Magdalene lifted her head to tear Joel limb from limb, in the blink of an eye, Sam, fists balled, stepped up to him.

“Excuse me?”

Sam’s stance and her voice, for once raised, ensured that the hush that fell over the room felt like it weighed a ton. Perhaps realizing the gravity of what he had alluded to, and in front of all these witnesses, Joel loudly snapped his mouth shut, the unpleasant sound of bone hitting bone jarring.

Magdalene could feel what was about to happen. It wasn’t hard to guess, and her heart swelled with both pride and concern for Sam.

“Did you just imply that a lesbian pastor would somehow be detrimental to the school? Did I hear that right?” Sam’s breathing was coming quicker, her chest heaving. Magdalene smiled and thought that she had never looked as beautiful as now, enraged, ready to smite anyone in her path.

Sam seemed totally oblivious to everyone else around her, so focused on the person drawing her ire, that famed temper untethered, the Dragon in full flight now, so much so that she didn’t even react to a hand on her forearm—Alden, clearly trying to restrain her. Magdalene allowed herself a smile. It was too late. The Fourth Dragon had shed her chains.

“You keep bringing up the scholarships as a burden and an expense and as somehow contravening the charter, but absolutely everyone in this room and the ten girls celebrating outside are fully aware that this is your way of trying to rid the school of LGBTQIA students. What in the world didqueerpeople ever do to you, Joel? I mean, it’s not like you were even aware that a lesbian broke your nose years ago.”

And there it was. Her pulse racing, pride overrode concern in Magdalene’s heart.

Sam looked majestic as she kept grinding Joel into dirt. “Your father made me apologize back then, but just so you know, I didn’t mean a single word of that apology. Just like whatever it is you’re about to spout now, how this is not the reason for canceling the scholarships, will not be even remotely sincere. You’re a bigot, Joel Tullinger. There, these are some words I stand by wholeheartedly.”

A pin dropping would have caused an avalanche in the silence that descended. Sam’s breath was the only sound for a few long seconds. That and Magdalene’s heartbeat, loud and rhythmic in her own ears, the beats steady as a metronome. Yes, the very heart that was barely there, hanging by a thread in the middle of the hacked-out cavity, was suddenly the one reliable measure of the passage of time around her.

The moment felt surreal. The words, their cutting, jarring edges, slicing through the fabric of reality and carving it up, all of its ugliness and all of its truth exposed. But above all, it cut through Magdalene like a knife and revealed a sense of pride she had not felt in a long time, or perhaps ever.

Their eyes met again, warmth palpable between them, and the connection, like a red line—like that tie that kept the Light Princess anchored to her prince, from that ridiculous book that Sam loved so much—twisted and wound around all the figures in this room, yet held steady, pulling them gently towards each other.

Sam Threadneedle. You amazing human…

Suddenly, everyone started speaking at once, and the cacophony of voices intruded on Magdalene’s mind like a sledgehammer. But the light in Sam’s eyes did not dim for one second, and Magdalene knew it was her turn now, to stand up, and to defend. So she clapped her hands to ensure everyone’s attention was once again focused on her.

“I think this conversation, while pertinent, is also highly emotionally charged right now. Mr. Tullinger, I’m sure you see how your words can be construed as discriminatory, and if any student or faculty, including the newly hired Reverend Lavalle, would choose to proceed with a litigious follow-up, I’m sure they would have some recourse… And plenty of witnesses right in this room…”

Joel’s hands had begun to tremble, but Magdalene waited a second longer, letting him sweat before speaking again.

“Professor Threadneedle has made some very relevant points just now, and while we all need calmer heads to prevail, how about we adjourn this ad hoc meeting and set up something official for next week? George?”

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