Leticia reeled back. “So that’s it? My magic stays with my daughters, and the land still gets taken from them?”
The man on the left nodded. “Yes. Alongside our recommendation that there be an investigation into which of the children are gifted, and then they be enrolled in accredited magical education in accordance with the Standards of Arcane Development.”
Ethan stood. “All of my girls are special. And I’ll make sure they’re taken care of appropriately.”
“Very well. In the matter of case 784.12B, the land formerly known as Hale Family Orchard of Hudson county will heretofore be under the jurisdiction of?—”
Honey stepped forward. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice did not. “Excuse me.”
“Ma’am. This is a closed affair.”
“I am the Assistant to the Director of Arcane Relations of Manhattan. I’d like to weigh in on this matter.”
“With all due respect, this is outside your jurisdiction.”
Honey walked forward anyway, heels echoing against the tile. Each step felt like choosing, finally, to stand where she’d always been too afraid to. She stopped at the front ofthe room, her voice steady though her heart hammered like a drum.
“The bureau was founded to protect,” she began, her words sharp with conviction. “To maintain order, yes—but also to protect the people of our territories. That is the first principle etched into our charter. I’ve worked in magical compliance for ten years. I believed in rules. In order. In the power of careful, structured systems.”
She drew a breath, forcing herself to keep going. “But rules don’t see people. They don’t see little girls who throw desperate hope into wishing wells. They don’t see a father who uses every ounce of strength he has—his body, his hands, his very soul—to keep something beautiful standing. They don’t see what happens when a family is told they’re not enough, that all their love and effort means nothing compared to the neatness of paperwork.”
Her voice cracked, and she pressed forward. “This isn’t just about ley lines or subsection this or that. This is about a family. A home. And magic doesn’t live in the ink on your forms, or in the stamps on your envelopes. It lives in people who care enough to fight for it. It lives in little girls who love an orchard so much, they gave the most magical parts of themselves to it. It lives in a man who refuses to let his children forget what it means to belong.”
Honey paused, her pulse pounding in her ears. She looked at each reviewer in turn. “So if you’re going to take that away—if you’re going to rip their home out from under them—say it to their faces. Tell these kids that the system values paperwork over a family.”
The chamber went utterly still.
One reviewer shifted uncomfortably, tugging at his collar. Another cleared her throat, eyes flicking toward the girls clustered around theirmother.
For one breathless moment, Honey let herself hope.
But the lead reviewer leaned forward, his expression smooth as stone. “That’s all very touching, Ms. Baxter. But when there is a dispute over magical stewardship, and no recognized local director in place, jurisdiction defaults to the federal administration. And the Department of Magical Resources has voted unanimously to reabsorb the orchard’s land into the collective magical reserves.”
The gavel cracked against the table like the snap of a bone.
A stunned silence fell. The words were so clinical.
Ethan looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Brooke and Emma flanked their dad and clutched his hand so tight their knuckles were white.
It was over.
“Actually,” a voice rang out, “we have a Director.”
Confusion rippled, and everyone turned around to see Clover Marrow standing in the entryway. She looked like she’d come straight from behind the counter at her café. Her apron was still tied over her sweater, dusted with flour like she’d abandoned a tray of scones halfway through rolling. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair frizzed loose from its bun. “On behalf of Brim’s Hollow, we nominate Honey Baxter as the Director of Arcane Relations.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then the squeak of sneakers. A low murmur of movement.
And suddenly, they were not alone.
Poppy came in behind Clover, mailbag slung over one hip, and a toddler balanced on the other. Ms. Opal, the librarian, came in next, clutching her knitting like she’d just walked straight out of story hour. Then, the barber with a comb stuck behind his ear. The mechanic, wiping greasefrom his hands. All three Fitch boys, jostling for space. Even the Gribbles, who hadn’t agreed on anything with the Marrows in twenty years, came and stood shoulder to shoulder with Juniper and Runa.
They just kept coming.
A steady stream of townsfolk filled the chamber. People who should’ve been working, or napping, or in school, had dropped everything the moment the call went out. Because this family mattered to them. Juniper Marrow pushed through last, passing a clipboard stacked thick with papers toward the front.
“This is highly irregular,” one of the bureau reviewers muttered, his composure cracking as he glanced at the swelling crowd.
