by Sarah Noffke
Letting out a sigh of relief, Paris took the spot behind Christine, picking up a warm plate from the buffet's start. “Thanks for that.”
The fairy turned about, glancing at her with mock surprise. “For what? Calling out these gossipers for not having their own life and gawking?”
Paris offered her a tame smile as she loaded up on eggs, country potatoes, and of course, maple bacon. “Thanks for breaking the tension. I was about to hightail it out of here.”
Christine shook her head of bluish-gray, straight hair. “Don’t let them get to you. Nothing ever happens here so you’ve given these busybodies the first real thing to talk about in ages.”
Paris still received curious glances and heard whispers from the crowd, but it was a lot less noticeable than before. “You were pretty good with the binding spell.”
The fairy beamed and turned to search for a spot at the crowded dining room table. “Why, thank you. I only knew the spell because of you, which means you must teach me more. All I know at this point to get me out of dangerous situations is how to turn caterpillars into butterflies and make flowers intoxicate people. If I get mugged, I’m screwed.”
Paris laughed. “Why would you need those spells anyway?”
“Apparently butterflies and drunkenness help people fall in love.” Christine pointed at a set of empty seats. “You want to sit over there?”
Paris nodded, grateful that her new friend was still that—her friend. She expected that she’d experience a good deal of prejudice now that everyone knew she was also a magician.
The two races didn’t always get along since they were so different, with unique skill sets that didn’t always complement one another. Fairies, as a race, were all about love and harmony. Magicians, on the other hand, were all about logic and intellect. They often insulted each other by stating that the other race was missing what was important. Still, what if they were supposed to be complementary? Paris had often wondered, and now she knew why.
Chef Ash and Hemingway sat opposite the pair when they took seats. They both wore unquestionably curious expressions, but thankfully they were both directed at Christine.
“That was quite the display you made just now,” Chef Ash teased with a broad grin. He was in his chef’s uniform, his trademark pencil behind his ear.
“Well,” Christine drew out the word as she held up a strip of thick bacon. “Everyone was staring at me, and you know how I don’t like the attention.”
Hemingway laughed. The dimple in his right cheek surfaced, and the glint in his blue eyes twinkled. He wore his usual button-up flannel shirt, and his dark brown hair was windswept from being outside. “I don’t think they were staring at you.”
“Since when do you not like the attention?” Chef Ash asked.
Christine craned her head around to look at a group of girls who weren’t even hiding their pointing in their direction. Becky Montgomery was at the center of the group. “It’s weird. It’s almost like you all have never seen a magician before.”
“We’ve seen them,” Becky fired back. “It’s just that we’re not used to them bending the rules to get into our college and creating so much drama.”
“Coming from the drama queen, that’s funny,” Chef Ash said under his breath.
“Well, you did fail cotillion a few times didn’t you, Becky,” Christine quipped. “So I get that manners aren’t really your thing. Most well-behaved people know that you’re not supposed to stare and point, especially at people who can probably blow you up with magic if they chose.”
Red flared across the bridge of Becky’s nose as her friends all sat back in an embarrassed hush. She glanced around at the girls. “Mother says that word about the halfling invading our school is already spreading in the magical world. Saint Valentine is probably going to intervene. Otherwise, this could be bad for the college’s reputation.”
Paris wanted to point out that Headmistress Starr had endorsed her staying at the college. However, to her disappointment, Willow wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Nor was Mae Ling. Without them there, it would only be her word, and currently, that didn’t seem like a very credible source.
Penny Pullman took the seat on the other side of Paris, giving her a nervous glance before glancing down the table at Becky and her bully friends.
“Didn’t your mother fail the entrance exam to Happily Ever After College three times?” Christine asked Becky, appearing quite serious in her reply before turning her attention to Paris. “After that, the money to fund the observatory magically appeared, and Margo Montgomery was allowed entry to the college.”
Becky’s nose shot straight into the air. “My mother got in here of her own accord, and my family has often donated to the college. Regardless, we get into the college through honorable means. Not because of who our uncle is or because we’re trying to stay out of jail.”
Christine nodded as if she couldn’t care less and glanced at Paris. “Why did you almost go to jail?”
Although the question felt threatening, the curious and excited expression on Christine’s face melted away any tension surrounding it, putting Paris more at ease. “A series of supposed criminal offenses, mostly where I was at the scene of a crime that I wasn’t guilty of.”
“That’s what all criminals say,” Becky retorted.
“How would you know what criminals say?” Hemingway asked, taking a bite of a breakfast sandwich.
“I don’t have to answer that.” Becky sounded flustered. “You all socializing with a reject halfling will undoubtedly reflect on you.”
Christine nodded understandingly. “Undoubtedly. Good thing we aren’t hobnobbing with rich snobs. Imagine how that would make us look.”
“Like real losers,” Penny related and flushed red, suddenly embarrassed.
Becky and her friends all shot them angry expressions before turning their narrowed gazes toward each other to huddle up and probably gossip.
Chef Ash leaned forward, tapping the table between them. “Well, on the long list of good things you’ve done, Paris, you’ve made the good fairy godmother students speak up for themselves and the not-so-good ones, well, do what they’ve always done.” He directed his thoughtful gaze to Penny, who flushed even pinker.
“I don’t know why I said it…it’s just that—”
Christine cut her off with a laugh. “That you finally don’t feel like being the butt of Becky’s jokes since you realize that you don’t have to be. You helped pin down the worst of the bullies, Professor Butcher, with me and you finally have some confidence?”
Penny nodded, although she still looked ashamed.
“I’m not here to create trouble,” Paris admitted when things went silent.
“No, you stirred everything up and questioned the status quo.” Hemingway laughed. “I think we needed a little trouble in our midst. Otherwise, when was real change going to happen?”
Chef Ash nodded. “I agree. People like Becky Montgomery and her family have been running things for too long. I bet that Saint Valentine does hear about this and investigates, then realizes that his problems are because of deeper structural problems at Matters of the Heart and FGM Agency.” He pulled the pencil from behind his ear and pointed it at Paris. “I’ve said for the longest time that this place needed some diversity. Good on Headmistress Starr for finally implementing it, which reminds me, there’s a five-layer cake I’ve wanted to experiment with.” He magicked some paper and went straight to sketching.
As if his spell had sparked something, an envelope appeared beside Paris’ plate. She looked up at the others, silently asking for their input on the sudden appearance of the note.
“It’s a new class schedule,” Hemingway answered without her having to ask.
“I’m guessing with Professor Butcher gone, you’ll be reassigned something,” Penny stated.
“Well, and she tested out of that dumb class,” Christine stated. “I bet the headmistress replaced it with something more helpful. I hope so. Maybe combat mag
ic.”
Excited to see what she would be learning instead of table manners and napkin folding, Paris tore into the envelope and ran her eyes over what was definitely her new class schedule. Then her hope disappeared. A new class replaced Cotillion, but it wasn’t something that interested Paris much at all, and she had zero hopes that she’d be good at it.
Her class schedule was the same as it had been with ballroom dancing, astrology, magical gardening, then cooking and baking. However, added to the list was one that didn’t at all pique her interests, but she admitted it was probably necessary for fairy godmothers. It was called Art of Love.
Chapter Four
Paris had said farewell and parted with her friends before asking them where she could find her first class—Art of Love. It still felt so strange to call real people “friends.” She almost thought she was going to jinx herself. Still, they had stuck up for her when Becky the Bully had tried to insult her, calling her a criminal magician halfling. In truth, that’s what Paris was, and she realized she should probably own it rather than try and defend herself.
Finding the hallways empty since most were still eating breakfast, Paris decided to call on the one person always eager to help her.
“Wilfred, I need your help,” she said aloud to the deserted corridor.
A moment later, the polished butler appeared out of seemingly nowhere wearing a three-piece pinstriped suit with tails as usual and a restrained expression. “Yes, Ms. Beaufont?”
Paris started at the name, not used to being called that yet. It was hers, although it didn’t feel right. She desperately wanted to talk to Uncle John and ask him so many questions. Of all the times for him to be on a stakeout and unreachable, this was the absolute worst. It was almost as if someone had planned it all, but who could coordinate such a thing? Only someone very powerful and all-knowing like Father Time, if such a person existed, although Paris doubted it.
Sensing her tension, Wilfred offered her a thoughtful expression. “Do you not prefer to go by that name? I can call you Ms. Westbridge if you prefer.”
She forced a smile. “It’s fine. It is my name after all.”
“And a very good one,” he remarked proudly.
“Oh, you would know about the Beaufonts, wouldn’t you?” Paris realized with surprise. “You know about everything, right?”
“Anything I can find on the World Wide Web,” he stated.
“So pretty much everything then,” she joked, but this didn’t produce a laugh from the AI magitech butler.
Clearing his throat, Wilfred Bitmore recited, “The Beaufont family are one of three founder families for the House of Fourteen. They are magicians of Royal blood and are tasked with protecting magic from an unknown source. Would you like me to continue?”
Indeed Paris did. The little bit of information on her real family was instantly like an addictive drug, and she desperately wanted more. However, she would be late for her first class if she wasn’t careful. “I do, but not right now. I’ll page you when I have a break.”
“I will be happy to help when you call on me.” He bowed. “Now, is there anything else that you need?”
She nodded. “Yes, I don’t know where my first class is, Art of Love. Can you please direct me?”
He held out his hand. “I’ll do one better and take you to your professor’s office. She is still there and probably will want to see you beforehand.”
“Oh,” Paris said with surprise, wondering who this professor would be that wanted to see her.
Chapter Five
Paris was surprised when the butler led her to the headmistress’ office.
“Headmistress Starr is my professor for Art of Love?” she asked as Wilfred lifted his white-gloved hand to knock on the closed door.
“Naturally.” He rapped three times and waited for the okay to enter.
“Come in, Wilfred,” Willow said, probably used to the butler’s trademark knock.
He opened the door and stepped through. “Ms. Paris Beaufont to see you, madam. I thought you might want to see her before your first class.”
Sitting behind her desk in her fairy godmother blue gown with the pink sash, the headmistress nodded her head of bouncing bluish-gray hair. “You’re right, as usual. I did want to see how she was doing after last night’s excitement.”
He bowed and stepped to the side to allow Paris to enter. “I thought as much. Will there be anything else?”
“Not at the moment.” Willow suddenly sounded stressed.
Paris stepped around Wilfred into the large and wholesome office that, like many parts of the manor, reminded her of a grandmother’s house. She was surprised to find Mae Ling sitting in one of the armchairs opposite Willow’s desk, a calm expression on her face.
“How are you feeling, Paris?” Willow asked as Wilfred pulled the door shut behind her.
“I’m fine,” Paris lied.
What was she supposed to say? Her world had suddenly turned upside down, and she didn’t feel like herself anymore, but in truth, she didn’t really know who she was anymore. That was her first goal—to find out what she didn’t know and go from there.
However, Mae Ling had warned her that it would take time and that leaving the college now would be dangerous so Paris wasn’t in a hurry to create more problems for herself. There would be time for that later. Paris hadn’t allowed herself to think about her parents or what had happened to them but she would when given the time to process.
Headmistress Starr’s sensitive expression made Paris think that she didn’t believe she was “fine.”
“I’m sure you’re going through a lot of emotions right now,” Willow offered.
“Is Saint Valentine not going to want me at Happily Ever After?” The question spilled from Paris’ lips before she could stop it.
Willow’s gaze shot to Mae Ling suddenly, worry on her face. “Saint Valentine’s authority on such things only extends so far. Also, he’s not the closed-minded man that most think him to be. I think it will simply take him time to adjust to the idea.”
“Is he worried that by allowing me into the college, you’ll have to allow others who aren’t fairy-blood?” Paris rocked forward on her boots and back again, suddenly feeling nervous.
“You are fairy-blooded,” Mae Ling stated.
“That’s right,” Willow stated. “I have no plans of allowing those who aren’t fairies entry to our college. There are some things that should remain the same, although we’re looking at all facets that we might need to renovate for better outcomes.”
“So if someone is a fairy and something else, they could attend Happily Ever After?” Paris asked.
“There aren’t any others who are half-fairy and another race,” Mae Ling offered.
“How do you know?” Paris questioned.
In reply, Mae Ling simply gave her a confident expression that seemed to say, “I know.”
The fairy godmother who didn’t wear the standard blue gown and seemed so unassuming was an enigma. Paris sensed that she was much more powerful and all-knowing than most, but why, she didn’t know.
“You’re my professor for Art of Love?” Paris asked the headmistress.
She nodded with a polite smile. “Yes, and although it’s a second-year class, I think after the success of last night’s Valentine’s event that you should try it out. You have some good ideas that could help the college, but having a foundation of how love works can help.”
“So that’s what we learn about in the class? Love and how it works?” Paris didn’t think anyone could teach this since it was so varied. Two people didn’t love the same way. To her, love was like a fingerprint and was unique to each person, but what did she know about the subject, she reasoned.
“We study it from multiple angles, using many different sources,” Willow answered. “We can get to that in class. I’ll bring you up to speed, don’t worry.”
The headmistress’ words were ironic because that’s exactly what she sounded like—wo
rried.
Paris’ gaze drifted to the love meter on the wall, the curtain that covered it pulled back. Her mouth popped open, and her heart sank. “What’s happened to love?”
Chapter Six
The love meter that hung on Willow’s office wall was much lower than the night before. It had ticked up on Valentine’s and was at thirty percent. Currently, it was half that.
“I thought that the Valentine’s Day event had helped to spread love.” Paris remembered that Willow had explained that usually the meter went down on that day because people were forced to be loving.
“It had,” Willow replied heavily. “However, there’s another event that’s having far-reaching and very damaging effects on love.”
Paris had been surprised that an event of one hundred couples had made a difference with the love meter at all, but Willow had explained that when love was created, it had a ripple effect. People were better in all aspects of their life, radiating more love that circulated, spreading fast.
As if reading her thoughts, the headmistress said, “Remember that I told you last night that love was infectious and multiplied?”
Paris simply nodded in reply.
“Well, unfortunately, the same thing happens with hate,” Willow explained. “Feuds, jealousy, resentment, competition, and the like all perpetuates itself, and that has a hugely negative effect on the love meter.”
“So there’s an event that caused this suddenly?” Paris asked. “Like a war or something?”
Willow shook her head. “Although wars are horrible and usually always wrong, they often make the love meter increase.”
Paris’ brow registered her confusion. “So Valentine’s Day makes the meter go down, and wars make it go up? I’m not sure I understand how this works.”
“Wars make people realize how much they love one another,” Mae Ling explained, entering the conversation. “It puts people’s commitments to the test, and they exemplify sacrifice and passion. Valentine’s Day often makes lovers feel obligated to do something nice for each other, which has the opposite effect on the love meter as war.”
