Midnight Law

by Geanna Culbertson

  “Protagonist schools have been a part of our land for centuries,” Lena Lenore replied calmly. Our realm’s Godmother Supreme always remained cool and never needed to raise her voice or fist to get people to listen. Her power was inherent. I wished I could be that way.

  “You’ve also been a part of our land for ages and that’s not exactly doing the majority any favors,” Tim, another commons leader, replied snarkily, adjusting his ever-present scarf.

  I did not know what was more surprising—Tim calling the Godmother Supreme out on the anti-aging spell that had kept her alive for over a century and a half, which everyone knew about but no one spoke of, or the fact that he literally wore a scarf every day. It was summer for goodness’ sake. If Blue were here, by now she would have made a joke about choking him herself if the scarf was not getting the job done. Blue was not great at diplomacy. Some of these adults were not that skilled at it either. Tim’s comment caused the other two Fairy Godmothers—Debbie Nightengale and Daisy Gate—to get snappish with Tim about his rude comment, which drew the ire of the other rebel leaders in turn.

  Feeling a headache coming on, I massaged my temples and resisted the temptation to rest my forehead on the cool polished surface of the wooden desktop. The remarkable piece of furniture wrapped around the perimeter of the circular room. An apt shape given that oftentimes it felt like our conversation only went in circles, never progressing notably to the treaty we all hoped to sign. After more than three weeks we had only achieved a few moments of agreement.

  The desk arrangement allowed all parties to glare at each other with ease. I glanced at my friends beside me, then back at the clock. We only had a few minutes left before everyone departed for the evening. It was now or not until tomorrow.

  “With respect . . .” I raised my hand. The bickering continued unabated.

  Javier, seated to my right, gave me an encouraging nod, egging me to try again. Gordon, seated beside him, provided a tired, but sympathetic smile. I could not help but think Gordon’s white-ish blond hair seemed almost gray in this light. Appropriate considering there were days that it felt like we were losing life in this room.

  And yet . . . I had to say—despite the stubbornness of these adults, the drearily slow progress, and the number of times a session I felt a headache coming on, I still woke up each morning and entered this building with hope. I would not have been here if I did not have a fundamental faith that we could build a better world and people could be better too.

  That was not naiveté; that was my logical belief that things in life were meant to run smoothly, and would do so if selfish vices did not clog the gears so often. The peace talks were our chance to get things back on track. We were going to accomplish something great here. I could feel it.

  I glanced at the proposal I had written. I was quite proud of it. The stack of financial documents next to it was a testament to how thorough I had been. Were all parties to adhere to the guidelines I had come up with, several of our outstanding problems would be on the road to resolution. I just did not know if the parties could part with their egos. And I would never know if I did not make my voice heard.

  I stood up, brought my fingers to my lips, and whistled loudly, just as Jason had taught me. Debbie—also Crisa’s personal Fairy Godmother—nearly fell from her chair in surprise as a sudden hush fell across the room. I did not care for making a scene, but drastic times called for drastic measures. I met the gaze of the twenty-three faces around me, trying to channel some of the Godmother Supreme’s naturally commanding stature—perfectly erect but not tense, steely and confident eyes, firm and tilted upward chin.

  “Elias, your detailed list of problems with the protagonist schools was first discussed in this room on July 22. We have been bouncing around the topic a lot since then, but the most torrid point of your argument was the taxes that commons have to pay to support the schools. I have been looking at the numbers . . .” I picked up my notepad, though I knew the numbers by heart. “Across all categories, commons, protagonists, and royals are taxed the same percentage of their net annual income.”

  “Which is a perfect example of fairness across the classes,” said Ambassador Zachary Shewd, one of the higher-ups selected by the Godmother Supreme to be present here. He was from my kingdom of Dobb. “Exactly, SJ.”

  I shot him a stern look. “I was not finished.”

  The Godmother Supreme caught my eye. Her luxurious black hair cascaded around her toned, dark-skinned arms and framed her unreadable expression. I found it fascinating and unnerving. I had no doubt she and I had the same aptitude for public speaking, grace, and so forth. I had been trained in proper princess ways my entire life. The difference between us was that she did not care what anyone thought. She made no apologies. In that way she was more similar to Crisa, and several of my other friends. I was still working on that.

  “As I was saying,” I continued. “When it comes to roadwork, healthcare, and so on, we should all pay the same taxes because we share the same amenities. But if only protagonists go to protagonist schools, then commons have no business paying for them.” I reached for a neatly clipped stack of paper and handed the documents to Javier. “Will you please pass these dossiers around?”

  I pivoted to address the room again as Javier distributed my work. “You will see in my fiscal breakdown on pages one through four of your packets how the last five years of taxes for protagonist-specific benefits have taken a toll on the average common’s income. On page six of the dossier is a chart I made to illustrate how this correlates with increased crime rate and decreased likelihood of commons taking on non-trade professions. On the last page is my proposal for how we revamp our tax system to benefit all parties. It is color coded so it should be easy to understand.”

  I waited awkwardly as the others glanced between their packets and me. Their expressions ranged from surprise to disbelief. “That is all,” I said abruptly, sitting back down.

  “SJ . . .” Susannah Marberg (the ambassador from Crisa’s kingdom of Midveil) marveled. “This is very impressive.”

  “I have several questions,” Ariel Steinglass (the ambassador from Adelaide) commented. Not shocking. The small, but booming-voiced woman naturally distrusted any new ideas.

  “And there will be time for those tomorrow,” Debbie said, brushing away red strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “As it is almost five o’clock, I recommend we adjourn for the evening and commit to studying this proposal tonight in preparation for tomorrow.”

  The Godmother Supreme nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Agreed,” Elias seconded.

  With that, everyone began packing up eagerly like kids at the end of a school day.

  “Great work, SJ,” said Javier. My curly-haired friend was fairly short, but he made up for it with the size of his smile, which he unleashed frequently. I loved that about him. There were plenty of heroes at Lord Channing’s who were stuffy. Javier Marcos was not like that. He was genuinely kind in addition to being honorable and selfless.

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I believe the proposal will move things along. Nothing gets done when people are throwing words at each other like knives. Numbers, facts, and logic cannot be ignored when presented as clear as day.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Pietro said. “Now come on. Dinner is on me tonight.”

  I glanced up at Crisa’s dark-haired, dark-eyed adopted brother. I considered it a lucky thing that he looked nothing like Crisa. It may have caused me to miss, and worry about her more if he did.

  “What do you mean?” Marie asked, popping up next to him. Her blonde hair was as fair as her brother’s, but while Gordon was extremely tall she was quite petite. “Is it not chicken parmesan night at Darling Castle?”

  “I’m suggesting we find a restaurant in Gallant for dinner,” Pietro clarified. “Just because we’re staying at Darling Castle doesn’t mean we have to eat there every night. That place can get a little crowded sometimes. Couldn’t you use a break?”

/>   I smiled as I pushed the last of my papers into my book bags. I knew exactly what Pietro meant. We had been staying at our friend Chance Darling’s family castle in Clevaunt since the start of the summer and his ten siblings were a lot to take. A night out could be rather enjoyable.

  “That is a lovely idea,” I commented. “Gallant’s capital is only an hour away from Chance’s castle. Would you like to call Evette to join us? We could wait for her.”

  “No, she left this morning to spend the week in Midveil with her mother,” replied Pietro. “They’re picking out a wedding dress.”

  “I cannot believe Evette has waited until now to purchase her dress,” Marie commented, fastening the last buckle on her own book bag. “You two are getting married in November. It was my understanding that picking out a dress is one of the first things a bride-to-be should do.”

  “Nope, no way. We’re not doing this again, Marie,” Gordon declared, holding up his hands. “No wedding talk. I’m allergic to conversations about dresses, floral arrangements, and silk napkins.”

  “And he wonders why he’s still single,” Javier said.

  We laughed to Gordon’s chagrin before filing out of the now-empty chamber into the connecting hall of Gallant Castle. Navy and black marble flooring amplified every footstep. Diamond-shaped shards of crystal decorated the walls in a glistening pattern like choreographed stars. Sporadic skylights allowed natural light to flow between chandeliers.

  It was as grand a castle as any I had been in. Only instead of servants and courtiers bustling down the halls, we passed commons who eyed us darkly and/or warily as they crossed the corridors to keep distance between us.

  For the last few months Gallant Castle had served as home and home base to many commons from the rebellion. Their forces had executed a coup and seized this castle in the spring, killing Gallant’s rulers King Mason and Queen Livry, and holding many courtiers hostage. As part of our peace talks, the rebels let all captives go under the condition that our realm’s higher-ups let this castle remain a commons base and all rebels inside stay untouched for the duration of our peace talks.

  It must have burned the Godmother Supreme to allow this, but we could not exactly hold peace talks in a building where hostages were being kept on another floor. And the rebels insisted that we meet somewhere that they did not feel vulnerable. Ergo, it had to be done.

  The concession was a big win that allowed us to move forward. It also led to a pair of other necessary triumphs. The rebels agreed that there would be no further attacks while our negotiations were underway. Our higher-ups, in turn, committed to not hunting rebels in the meantime either. I felt it was a good sign that both sides had compromised on these points. We would have to come to a more permanent solution for Gallant later, but for now the populace of this kingdom was not locked in fear, and going into the city for dinner was safe enough.

  I tried smiling politely at a common woman carrying a large sack as she passed, but she only glared back.

  “Hey, SJ,” Divya said, suddenly appearing next to me. “Where did you learn to whistle like that?”

  While Marie was petite, Divya Patel was tiny. She was also several years younger than the rest of us, the youngest at the peace talks, and agile as a cat. Her enormous dark eyes looked at me with wonder as she hurried to keep up with my gait. Her long ponytail swung erratically behind her unlike my braid, which swished with subtlety.

  “Jason taught Blue, Crisa, and me how to whistle years ago. It is not very ladylike, but I had to do something to get everyone to stop bickering. Please do not tell Jason or Crisa or especially Blue that I did that. I will never hear the end of it.”

  “SJ Kaplan.”

  I turned, as did the rest of my group. Lena Lenore strutted toward us, her black suede pumps clicking with supremacy against the marble floor. The rebels she passed either scurried for cover or simply froze, trying to avoid eye contact.

  I stepped forward, posture straight in spite of the weight of my two book bags. “Yes?”

  She stopped in front of me. “Can your little friends spare you for the evening? I assume none of your typical princess activities outside these walls are life or death.”

  I bristled. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, I lifted my chin—grateful that my five-foot-ten frame kept the Godmother Supreme from towering over me like she did so many others. “With respect, Godmother Supreme, I would urge you not to belittle my friends and me. These peace talks are about growth, equality, and showing one another respect. We have been working together for weeks now, and it hardly supports the diplomatic spirit of what we are trying to do here if you patronize us.”

  There was a pause. I held my ground despite the part of me that wanted to apologize for being so blunt. My confidence was not sourced from inherent boldness like Blue’s and Crisa’s was. Mine was practiced, patient, and only vocalized when I felt I could back it up properly.

  The Godmother Supreme nodded slowly, face impassive. “That is fair. And for the sake of that ‘diplomatic spirit,’ please bid your friends adieu. I would like you to join the Godmothers and me for dinner.”

  I blinked. “For what reason?”

  “As I said, diplomacy,” she responded. “I was impressed with your proposal and would like to speak with you about it.”

  “You’ve already read it?” Divya blurted.

  “I am a fast reader, dear,” the Godmother Supreme said. Then she looked me up and down. “And I read people even better. Now what do you say?”

  I glanced at Pietro, who had become a sort of older brother to me these last few weeks. I had a flock of younger brothers but no older siblings to turn to for advice. He had provided that when asked and I was grateful. Pietro gave a shrug and I took his expression to mean “Why not?” I pivoted back to the Godmother Supreme with that exact response. “Why not?”

  “Very good.” She took off her impressive ring. It transformed into an off-white Fairy Godmother magic wand. With a wave, red sparks consumed my massive book bags, shrinking them to the size of doll accessories.

  “To lighten your load,” she explained. “It is hard for anyone to look respectable when schlepping around heavy baggage. They will return to normal size at the stroke of midnight.” She slipped her re-transformed ring back on her finger. “Now come. Debbie and Daisy are waiting for us on the second floor.” She turned and began striding away before I could ask anything more.

  I stowed my miniaturized bags in the pocket of my maroon velvet dress and looked at my friends. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it,” Gordon said encouragingly.

  I was not sure that was true, but I waved to my friends and swiftly followed the Godmother Supreme. Walking in her wake allowed me to fully appreciate how people moved out of her way. I had no doubt that the woman could part the sea if she wished.

  As we made for the stairwell, the rebel leaders from the peace talks were descending. “Elias,” I said, nodding to the woman at the head of the pack.

  “SJ,” she said plainly.

  On the second floor, Debbie and Daisy waited at an open balcony, looking out at the Gallant citadel as the city lights began to twinkle in the twilight.

  “The three of us part from here every evening,” the Godmother Supreme explained. “It’s far easier to magically teleport with open space above us.”

  “SJ, do you like stir-fry?” Debbie asked.

  Fairy Godmothers knew most of the same spells, but each woman took to certain kinds of magic more than others, developing specialties. Debbie’s gifts were weather manipulation and fashion design. Her ensembles always blended the magic concentrations perfectly. Today’s knee-length gown featured a dizzying display of gray tornadoes spinning across her skirt and bodice.

  “I have never had it,” I replied, forcing myself to maintain eye contact and not be distracted by her dress. “But I am fine with anything.”

  “Then let’s go to the Red Steeple for dinner,” Debbie suggested.

  “Ooh, love
that idea,” Daisy, a petite blonde, said with her squeaky voice.

  The Godmother Supreme turned to me. “Prepare yourself. Traveling in this manner can be a bit disorienting if you are not used to it. Crisanta certainly took some time to adapt.”

  The Godmothers drew their wands. Daisy’s also took the clandestine form of a ring when not in use. Debbie’s wand hid in the form of a sparkly hairpin like Crisa’s did.

  My best friend had a wand because of her godmother Emma; rest in peace. The woman had been Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother and upon leaving the Fairy Godmother Agency, she had given her wand to Crisa. The wand could not cast spells like those of active duty Godmothers. However, Crisa’s wand was enchanted to morph into any weapon she willed it into. Additionally, only Crisa could control it because a Godmother’s wand solely responded to her unique magic. Emma had given Crisa a spark of her power back then so my best friend could operate the wand.

  The three women waved their wands and our foursome became consumed in a rush of raspberry colored magic. I felt my body disintegrating before each atom was hurled around on a roller coaster ride. After a flash, I found us standing outside a restaurant decorated with glowing red lanterns.

  I clutched my stomach and grimaced. The Godmother Supreme had undersold magical transportation disorientation. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I had never so much as burped in public, I was not about to vomit here. Noticing that the Godmothers were waiting for me to compose myself, I forced my body to stand straight and smile agreeably.

  “No need to delay on my account. Please lead the way.”

  Debbie shot me a concerned look, but I held my smile despite the churning in my stomach. Thankfully, as I climbed the steps leading to the restaurant, I began to feel normal again. To my surprise, the smell of caramelizing onions and sizzling beef in the air helped considerably.

  The restaurant bustled with activity. People crowded just inside the door, waiting for a table. Staff zipped back and forth with steaming plates. The host was picking up a stack of menus when we approached.