by Sarah Noffke
“Oh, Paris. You’re never interrupting me. That’s what I’m here for.” She waved a hand at the poufy armchair on the other side of her desk. “Please come in.”
“Thanks.” Paris slid into the office as she checked over her shoulder, hoping no one would overhear them in the hallway.
Maybe spying her gesture or perhaps that intuitive, Willow said, “Would you like privacy for this discussion?”
“Well,” Paris drew out the word, hesitating. “It’s about Agent Topaz.”
Understandingly, Headmistress Starr nodded and twirled the feather quill in her hand, creating a silencing spell. “Well, I’d say a little discretion wouldn’t hurt.”
Paris took the seat on the other side of the desk that looked like something out of an old study. There was no computer on the top, but rather notebooks and a quill, a strange device, and an old rotary telephone. Other than the last two items, there wasn’t anything technical in the office. It appeared to be a place stuck in time.
“So you would have met Agent Topaz already,” Headmistress Starr stated with an edge of reluctance to her tone.
“Why are agents teaching here?” Paris asked. “Has that happened before?”
“It’s not that there isn’t a precedent for it,” Willow began, laying down her feather quill. “However, FGA is changing in new ways. It’s always about the influences, and currently, there are a few agents who are challenging Saint Valentine.”
“He’s supportive of Happily Ever After College evolving into the modern world, isn’t he?”
Willow nodded. “The current Saint Valentine is progressive, which I can’t say is a common trait among those who have held his position in the past. However, he can’t control everything, so when the changes to the college became known, the board put pressure on him to allow an agent to teach here to monitor the curriculum and changes.”
“Like the fact that you’re allowing a half-magician to be taught here,” Paris grumbled.
“A half-fairy too,” Willow added. “FGA can’t deny that enrollment is down at the college and I believe that’s because our practices are out-of-date. That’s the reason I agreed to allow you entry. So far, I’ve been happy with that decision, making me consider other recruitment strategies, but first, we have to update the curriculum. I dare say, it’s the image of Happily Ever After as an archaic institution that’s caused a ripple effect such as low enrollment.”
“About these practices,” Paris began. “I knew that Professor Shannon Butcher was in favor of creating love for only the refined and wealthy, but I didn’t realize that was a widespread belief across the college. Do fairy godmothers only focus on matchmaking for the elite?” She thought about Amelia Rose and Grayson McGregor and their status, and therefore their reach, realizing that she’d been a part of that union.
Willow gave her a regretful look. “There are different schools of thought for FGA that have constantly served to divide. Currently, our board believes our focus should be on pairing up influential matches. It’s gone back and forth through the centuries, but many of us have wanted love for everyone. Honestly, I don’t know what I believe. I can see the rationale on both sides. Powerful couples do serve as an inspiration.”
“But who are we to say who can become powerful?” Paris challenged. “Maybe if we focus on matching up those with chemistry, creating opportunities and bridges for them to connect when they wouldn’t otherwise, they’ll go on to do amazing things that they wouldn’t have.”
“I do understand that perspective.” A torn expression radiated from Willow’s eyes.
“It’s just that pairing up people based on their W-2s and education or social status feels…wrong…” Paris let the sentence trail off, not wanting to be overly critical of the headmistress. She knew that Willow was open to change, but it was still difficult for her. Many of the fairy godmothers’ ingrained practices were tough to set aside.
The headmistress drew in a breath, obvious tension on her face. “I don’t entirely disagree. Progress was the goal of Happily Ever After College in light of changes we’ve seen recently. However, there’s new pressure from the board and some agents. It seems as soon as we were ready to take a few steps forward, then those more conservative-minded stepped forward encouraging us to retreat once more.”
The two were quiet for a moment. “Progress is difficult.”
“Change is the culprit here and old ways of thinking,” Willow replied. “Saint Valentine sees that we need to evolve with the modern world, but he’s being fought more and more with opposition, so we have to play by the rules a little more to appease the board.”
“Which is why Stuffy McStuffison is teaching Art of Love and perpetuating the idea of reserving matchmaking for the elite rather than those who have chemistry,” Paris muttered.
A small, rebellious smile graced the headmistress’ lips. “I think Agent Topaz wants to keep a closer eye on things. The Rose and McGregor union was successful and brought us some accolades, but we quickly met with speculation. The board doesn’t like us using untraditional methods.”
“It worked,” Paris argued.
Willow tipped her head back and forth. “It did, but strangely enough we appear to have a new problem robbing the love meter.”
Paris’ head jerked to the side, gauging the meter on the sidewall. She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it straight away. The love meter, which had recovered after matching the two tycoons, was back to being seriously low again.
Her eyes widened. “What happened?”
Headmistress Starr reached forward and straightened the long piece of paper from the small device on the corner of her desk. It resembled a telegram machine in that it had a wheel and gears and churned out a narrow message of sorts. She ripped off the paper and guided it through her hand, reading silently. Finally, she lowered it and sighed.
“What’s that?” Paris pointed at the machine.
“It’s a tele-eventor,” Willow answered. “It tells us about potential matches, break-ups, and other events that are directly affecting the love meter.”
“What events has it been detailing?” Paris read the tension on the headmistress’ face.
“I don’t know much about social media,” Willow began, squinting at the message. “So you’ll have to excuse me in that I’m not sure I can make too much sense of this. Apparently, globally, there’s a rise in turmoil in romantic relationships, resulting in a myriad of problems and inevitably break-ups.”
“Hence the drop on the love meter?” Paris guessed.
Willow nodded. “And apparently, through Saint Valentine’s office, Matters of the Heart, which is where the communications of the tele-eventor come from, the problems are being linked to social media.”
“Well, it can be a source of drama,” Paris related. She wasn’t much for socializing through such means, mostly because she didn’t socialize. She wasn’t turning down any friend requests because she didn’t get many—only from that one gnome who wanted to show her a good time, and she was going to show him a fist if he didn’t stop messaging her.
“Matters of the Heart is conflicted about this problem,” Willow continued. “They think social media isn’t the ultimate culprit and could be a tool used for good as much as bad.”
“That makes sense,” Paris reasoned. “I mean, you can kill a man with a knife, or it can be his very survival depending on the situation.”
Willow laid down the paper from the tele-eventor. “I can see that and things like FriendNet being a way to connect couples or help them to court, but in recent instances, it appears the medium is instigating feuds. Infidelity, arguments, and breakups are on the rise, and Saint Valentine believes that FriendNet is responsible, although he’s not sure how.”
She sighed, looking at a loss. “This is where we are coming up short because we don’t have enough expertise in such matters. It shouldn’t have come across my desk, but it has, which makes me think…”
“Saint Valentine doesn’t know ho
w to attack the situation,” Paris guessed, filling in Willow’s sentence.
The headmistress glanced at the open door before redirecting her gaze at Paris. “There’s that, but I also sense that Saint Valentine is getting a lot of scrutiny and pressure from FGA. The board is increasingly criticizing his progressive ways. Problems linked to love only serve to make Matters of the Heart look worse for endorsing such methods for matchmaking.”
Paris pulled her lips to the side, thinking. “Well, it sounds like if we’re going to keep evolving and not give them a reason to go back into the Dark Ages of romance and tradition than we have to get to the bottom of all this.”
Willow nodded. “Yes, but as I said, I’m not as well-versed on these technical things.”
Paris grinned. “Lucky for you, there’s a new generation at the college.”
“Paris, you have a lot on your plate,” Willow stated. “Although I appreciated your help with the last mission—”
“Because I have so much on my plate that I don’t want to think about is exactly why you should let me help,” Paris argued.
She considered this for a moment. “I was evaluated harshly for allowing a first- and second-year student to handle a case.”
“Which turned out successful,” Paris countered.
“That’s true,” Willow affirmed. “However—”
“This problem with the conservatives at FGA and the board is only going to get worse,” Paris cut in once more. “I sense you know that the only way for fairy godmothers to be successful is to evolve and learn how to create love in the modern world. Those who are married to the old ways of thinking will continue to serve as the opposition, especially if they’re monitoring the current administration and putting supervisors here at the college. So the way to get ahead of them is to figure out this problem and fix it using our new, unorthodox methods. Then they won’t be able to deny that adapting to the modern age is necessary.”
“What you say makes sense.” Willow chewed on her lip, not looking totally convinced.
“I like that the current Saint Valentine is open to change,” Paris continued. “I also like that he doesn’t have a problem with a half-magician being educated here at the college. Still, I sense that he’s going to lose power unless he can put those old crusty families who have no desire to take FGA to the next level in their place.”
“You may underestimate what we’re up against here,” the headmistress stated.
“Well, I didn’t much care for being a fairy godmother when circumstances forced me to come here,” Paris said boldly. “At first, I’ll admit, I was doing things for the wrong reasons. Now, I see the importance of love in creating a more peaceful world for all. So now I want to do this, and hopefully for the right reasons. However, I don’t want to do it ‘the way we’ve always done it.’ I want to challenge that and do it better. Do it in the way that makes sense for this world, not the one that came before.”
Headmistress Starr smiled at this. “You sound like Mae Ling.”
“Well, maybe she’s set a good example for me,” Paris offered.
“She does things her way, but that’s never had much of a change on how everyone else does,” Willow replied.
Something sparked inside of Paris, and her eyes lit up with excitement. “Well, maybe there’s someone who can change that. Or maybe, we can at least keep things from slipping back into the Dark Ages.”
Willow glanced at the message from the tele-eventor. “I’m going to give you a chance to work on this, but not publicly if that’s all right with you.”
“Yes,” Paris nearly exclaimed. “Why are you giving me this?” She had to ask, not thinking that as a newbie she’d get this chance again, especially after getting criticized the last time.
The headmistress leaned forward. “Honestly, if someone overthrows Saint Valentine, things will change dramatically. They will go back to the more conservative ways we’ve tried to change. The rules will be much stricter, I fear.” Willow’s eyes were suddenly intense. “Those who the board doesn’t think should be here will be expelled.”
Paris nodded, gulped, and sat back, fully understanding the implications. “Then do I have your permission to pull in a few resourceful people who might be able to help me investigate this FriendNet business?”
“As long as they use discretion.” Willow picked up her quill, probably realizing that she meant Christine, who was savvy on modern things, unlike many of Happily Ever After’s students. “I’ll send a message to Saint Valentine telling him that we’ll help how we can and to expect more information in the future.”
Paris pushed up to a standing position. “Thank you for the discussion and the opportunity.”
“The pleasure is mine. Not many have come to me to inquire about changes. Actually, no one ever does. Fairies, particularly students, usually accept things the way they are.”
“I think being a rebel runs in my blood,” Paris said proudly, thinking of her parents and already missing them.
“Well, I’ve sensed that a rebel was what we’ve needed for a long time,” the headmistress admitted. “I hope I’m right. If I am, I dare say that Saint Valentine will be indebted to the person or people who help him with this situation.”
Paris left the headmistress’ office at once with only a slight nod, feeling both ecstatic and overwhelmed by what she’d signed on for.
Chapter Eleven
Since the last time that Hemingway had requested the class meet him by the stables, Paris thought this lesson would have to do with something at Mirror Lake like mermaids or other special creatures. That’s why she was instantly on guard when a large horse trotted in her direction as she approached the large red building. No one else was around, and it was unbridled, picking up speed as it neared her.
Paris paused, knowing better than to put her back to the animal. She didn’t see a tree in the vicinity that she could magically climb either, like the last time when she escaped the deranged stallion that nearly ran her down on her first day at Happily Ever After College.
“Slow your roll, Horsey,” Paris encouraged the spotted brown and white Arabian now galloping toward her with its head down and attention focused on her.
She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if there was something nearby provoking it. Since she was early to class, having skipped lunch, there was no one else around.
She was what was provoking the beast—who was almost upon her.
“Whoa now, Zar!” Hemingway yelled from the stables, running out and seeing what was about to happen. He held up his hand and shot out a force from his palm that spiraled forward like an invisible wall and sped until it was right in front of the horse.
The strange barrier halted in front of the racing animal and froze with a loud bong like a weird drum. The horse reared back to avoid colliding with the see-through divider, whinnying before its front hooves slammed back onto the ground. Its eyes were wild and still focused on Paris as it pawed the earth.
However, although the barrier that Hemingway had shot from his hands was see-through, there was a reflective quality to it in the afternoon sunlight that let Paris, and the horse, know that it was solid. Zar wouldn’t be able to pass through it without injury or worse.
The horse charged back and forth along the invisible wall with obvious angst in its every movement, its gaze on Paris. She remained frozen, watching the creature as Hemingway raced in their direction.
“Zar!” Hemingway yelled. “Back to the stables!” He circled his finger, and as if suddenly robotically controlled, the deranged horse turned at once. It dutifully trotted back for the stable with its tail swishing back and forth as if moments before it hadn’t been about to murder Paris with its hooves.
When it was back inside the stableyard, Hemingway sighed, put his hands on his knees, and leaned over as though he was the one nearly trampled.
Needing the laugh, Paris said, “You okay? Looks like that was quite the ordeal for you.”
An abrupt laugh burst out
of Hemingway’s mouth as he straightened. “Very funny. I’m surprised you’re standing there so calmly.”
She motioned around. “Well, there wasn’t any tree to climb so I decided to close my eyes and pretend this whole thing was a dream. That works in the movies.”
He continued to chuckle. “I’m sure if I hadn’t arrived, you would have come up with a way of rescuing yourself.”
“For sure,” she joked. “I was about to pee on myself. That would work, right?”
He nodded. “Totally. Or you could try portaling, shielding, or any of the other combat spells in your arsenal.”
“Well, I’ve gotten out of the habit of throwing combat spells at animals since that’s frowned upon.”
“Reconsider it then,” he advised, holding up his hand and pulling down the invisible barrier separating them. Unlike fairies, since he wasn’t one, the secret magician didn’t need an instrument to channel his power. The shield had been a powerful spell that he’d thrown up instantly, which was impressive.
“Why?” She studied him. “Why is that the second time a horse has charged at me on the grounds of Happily Ever After College?”
“I’m not completely sure.” He ran his hands through his short brown hair. “I mean, none of the usual reasons that horses don’t like people fit. You’re not carrying anything they dislike, such as plastic bags, traffic cones, or balloons.”
Paris looked around as though checking. “Yeah, I left all that stuff in my room earlier.”
He laughed. “You’re not a chicken, miniature horse, or a butterfly.”
“Wait. Horses hate those kinds of things?”
He nodded. “Yeah, vehemently. Oh, and also demons.”
She lowered her chin, the realization dawning on her. “There we have it. Mystery solved.”
“You’re a chicken?” he asked. “I mean, I knew you were full of surprises, but I wasn’t expecting that one.”
She laughed. “No, remember when I told you I became half-fairy because of a wish my parents made to a genie?”