“She must be someone special to have earned such devotion.”
“She is,” Larmina said. “And I— Oh, blast it, the time. Please, just listen. I have to get this right. She trusted me to—”
“Who?” Linus asked.
“Ms. Doreen Blodwell,” Larmina said.
Linus startled. “What? The secretary for EUM? That Doreen?”
The one Linus had once referred to as Ms. Bubblegum, Arthur realized.
Looking relieved, she said, “Yes, her. She would’ve been here to greet you herself, but there were … other matters that required her attention. She’s since been reassigned. I’m not at liberty to say to what department, but you should know that things aren’t always what they seem. Ms. Blodwell came across certain … information about what you can expect during the hearing. She felt that sharing it might even the pitch.”
“Why should we trust you?” Linus asked. “Or her? For all we know, you’re working with the government to find out what we know.”
“She thought you’d say that,” Larmina said. “Which is why she wanted me to give you this.” She folded back the pages on her clipboard and pulled out a small, square piece of fabric. She held it out to Linus.
Huffing in exasperation, Linus snatched the proffered gift out of Larmina’s hand. He looked down at it and froze.
“What is it?” Arthur asked.
Linus turned toward him with a stunned expression. He held up the object, and it took Arthur only a moment to recognize it.
A mousepad, the picture creased and worn, showing a white, sandy beach with ocean waters so blue, they seemed impossible. Or they would, at least, if Arthur hadn’t seen such an ocean only yesterday. And across the top in stylish cursive lettering, a question: Don’t you wish you were here?
He did, and desperately so.
“You spoke of this,” Arthur said as Linus’s bottom lip wobbled. “You said it was a little escape.”
“Yes,” Linus said hoarsely. “It was one of the few things I had that made DICOMY bearable.” He looked down at the mousepad, tracing the whitecaps of the waves with a finger. “It felt like a dream.” He turned back toward Larmina. “We’re listening.”
“The hearing has been upgraded,” Larmina said as the elevator creaked and groaned around them. “You will be facing four parliamentary members.” She paused. “In the Council of Utmost Importance.”
The blood drained from Linus’s face. “Surely you jest.”
“I wish I was,” Larmina said solemnly. “Word came down early this morning.”
“What is that?” Arthur asked. He’d never heard of such a thing, but then he wasn’t as versed in government nomenclature as Linus was.
Linus began to pace in the small confines. “It’s ridiculous, is what it is. There are levels of councils, depending upon the situation. Council of Insignificant Propositions. Council of Moderate Ideas. Council of Serious Inquiries.”
“Ah,” Arthur said. “Clear as mud.”
“Yes, yes,” Linus said, distracted. “It’s the government. What do you expect? Transparency is a fanciful lie they tell constituents to distract them from the truth. The Council of Utmost Importance is reserved for the direst circumstances. It’s one step below terrorism investigations.”
“It’s not all bad,” Larmina said, as if she felt guilty for relaying the information. “Two of the council members have signaled their support for repealing some of the laws pertaining to the magical community—”
“Some,” Linus said. “But not all.”
Larmina laughed without humor. “You were an employee of the government not too long ago. Have you already forgotten how things work?”
“I haven’t,” Linus replied. “But that’s why we’re here. To light a fire under them.”
“Figuratively or literally?”
“You haven’t told us anything we didn’t already know,” Arthur said.
“Jeanine Rowder.”
The name was familiar, but Arthur couldn’t place the name to a face.
Linus didn’t have that problem. “The minister of education? What does she have to do with anything?” Sensing Arthur’s confusion, he added, “Former teacher. One of the youngest ever elected. Moved up quickly, amassing powerful friends.” He made a face. “I had no dealings with her myself, but I heard things about her that left me cold. Though it didn’t get very far, for a time she supported legislation that would have made it illegal for children who come from queer families to talk about them, saying that it would only confuse children who came from proper families. There were even rumblings about coming down hard on parents of transgender children seeking medical care.”
“So everyone in the government is mostly terrible,” Arthur said.
“Mostly,” Larmina said. “But it’s gotten worse with her. She’s going all in on the so-called issue of the day. Some are of the opinion that she’s been radicalized, but that implies an external force played a role. Ms. Blodwell doesn’t believe that to be true. She thinks Rowder’s sudden interest in all things magic has another end game in mind. Rumor has it that she has her eyes set on the ultimate prize.”
“Which is?” Arthur asked.
“Prime minister,” Larmina said gravely. “And all the power that comes with it.”
“And why are you helping us?” Arthur asked, curiosity winning out over his growing discomfort. “Same with Ms. Blodwell.”
“Because something has to give before it’s too late,” Larmina snapped, and this time, she did not apologize. Arthur’s opinion of her rose swiftly. “I fear we’re on the cusp of either salvation or destruction. And if I don’t do everything I can to make things right, then how can I go home and look at my wife? How can I stand before her and know that I failed her? I refuse to let that happen.” By the time she finished, she was panting, but she did not back down.
Linus hesitated. Then, “If what you’re saying is true, how has DICOMY not discovered you? Or Doreen?”
Larmina laughed bitterly. “Because we understand how the minds of men work. Give them a little smile, touch their arm, hang on their every word, and they believe they’re God’s gift to women.” Her face suddenly changed, going from a flat mask to big eyes and pouty lips. When she spoke again, her voice was in a higher register. “And that’s all we are. Pretty girls without a thought in our heads.” The facade melted, replaced by steel. “That’s the funny thing about those in power. They underestimate everyone beneath them, even knowing their secrets are heard by someone.”
