Chapter 36
Honey
Honey could feel it happening. The slow, inevitable crumbling of everything he’d built.
Ethan was trying—god, he was trying—but they weren’t listening.
They didn’t see the calluses on his hands from years of tending trees until midnight.
They didn’t see the girls clinging to him in the evenings, homework spread across the kitchen table he could barely afford to keep stocked with food.
They didn’t see the bags under his eyes from late nights prepping school lunches and balancing the budget.
They didn’t see the man who never stopped fighting.
Even if they did, they didn’t give a damn.
Her hand curled around the coin in her pocket.
She stared down at it. It was such a small thing, just a circle of metal that weighed less than an ounce, yet it felt impossibly heavy.
One simple wish. That was all it would take.
She shouldn’t. She was a compliance officer, for god’s sake.
She’d spent her entire career preaching about the sanctity of magical protocol, the rules of engagement, the guidelines carved in stone by generations before her.
Wishes were not loopholes to exploit when the world didn’t bend your way.
They were sacred. They were precious. They were regulated.
But she stepped outside anyway. Her heels echoed on the tile as she burst through the door, into the courtyard, and ran to the well. What good was protocol if it abandoned three little girls who just wanted to keep their home?
She stumbled to her knees, palms scraping the stone edge, and the coin burning hot in her fist. Her hand trembled as she pressed it to her lips.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please let her come.”
She closed her eyes, tossed it in, and waited only a moment before she plunged her hand into the water and approved the wish.
Arm dripping wet, she stayed there for a beat, her forehead bent low, waiting for some proof that it worked. A sign. A shimmer. A rush of wind. But the courtyard was silent.
Finally, she pushed to her feet on shaking legs and walked back. Every step back to that door felt heavy, as though she carried the weight of everything she’d sworn she’d never do with her.
When she opened the door to the review chamber again, her breath caught.
Standing beside Ethan in the front row, was a woman.
“She came,” Honey whispered, so softly no one could hear.
Honey stayed frozen in the doorway as Ethan took one step toward Leticia, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
The girls turned. Emma’s face crumpled and then lit up, and she leaped to her feet. Brooke’s wide-eyed disbelief. Melly’s breathless shriek, “Mommy!” And then all three of them threw themselves into Leticia’s arms.
Ethan stared on while Leticia folded them in like she’d never left.
The girls shrieked with joy, voices tumbling over each other—you’re really here, and I missed you, and I knew you’d come. Leticia laughed, brushed their hair back, and kissed their cheeks.
Honey should have been happy.
It was the natural order of things, after all. Their mother returned, and the family was made whole. Honey got her wish. She had broken every rule she’d ever lived by for this.
But god, it hurt.
Her back hit the wall as the breath drained from her. She should go. She didn’t belong here anymore. They would be fine now, better than fine. They didn’t need her, not with Leticia back. But her feet wouldn’t move, and she couldn’t force herself to walk away.
A sudden bang, bang, bang cracked through the chamber as the lead reviewer hammered his gavel. “Order,” he barked. He peered down over his glasses. “And you are?”
Leticia lifted her chin. “Leticia Westbrook Hale.”
Hale. The name hit hard. Her vision swam for a moment, and she pressed back harder into the wall.
They were divorced, she reminded herself. They’d cut ties long before Honey came into the picture.
But it hurt just the same.
The panelists glanced at their paperwork with identical disinterest, shuffling pages as though Leticia were nothing more than a late filing.
“Our records show that though there is a secondary ley line under the Westbrook name,” the lead reviewer said with pinched disdain, “there is no active claim from you.”
Leticia blinked. “What does that even mean? It’s my family. My orchard. My name’s still on the deed.”
Honey’s breath caught. Because suddenly, it all clicked. If it wasn’t Leticia’s magic…
“It’s the kids,” Honey said.
Of course. She should have realized.
“Correct.” The woman in the center nodded at Honey. “Per the Enchanted Minors Protection Act, when magic transfers to children, it is classified as untouchable. And the bureau does not, will not, remove magic from children. It’s neither ethical nor magically stable.”
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 of the 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 their mother.
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 grease from 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.
“Irregular or not,” Clover said, folding her arms, “You have a duty to review our nomination.”
The murmurs surged into agreement. A hundred voices hummed like ley line magic of their own.
“Let’s revote,” the woman of the panel said at last.
They conferred quietly, flipping through a worn leather-bound book, whispering among themselves while the townspeople stood tall and proud behind Honey.
Finally, the lead official stood.
“Nomination accepted,” he said. “Ms. Honey Baxter is hereby recognized as the Director of Arcane Relations of Brim’s Hollow, with full rights and protection. Therefore, the case of the Hale Family Orchard falls to her discretion.”
Honey let out a breath that trembled all the way down her spine.
It was done.
They’d won.
Ethan turned to her, his mouth slightly parted as if he wanted to say something. He looked from Honey to the crowd, then down at his daughters, who were beaming.
The reviewer adjusted her glasses. “Congratulations, Mr. Hale,” she said. “We’ll leave you and your family to celebrate.”
Leticia wrapped her arms around him. She leaned in, pressing her cheek to his and whispered something into his ear. Melly, Brooke, and Emma giggled and hugged her again. The five of them folded into each other like no time had passed at all.
And Honey stood there, still.
Still and smiling.
She clasped her hands together and nodded once to the panel.
Then, she turned on her heel.
And walked out.