Chapter 26
Harrisford
I escape into the men’s lavatory, tearing my mask off so roughly that the ribbon breaks with a snap. My pulse is galloping at the speed of a unicorn, and my skin—everywhere—is burning up.
It takes me two tries to successfully push on the tap, lean over it, and douse my face with water. Cupping my hands, I gulp some down, washing away the lingering tastes of champagne and Gwendolynne’s lips.
Then, bracing both hands on the counter, I let the droplets stream down my face and plink dramatically into the sink.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Briggs?” I stare at myself in the mirror. My face is all flushed and mottled. I don’t know why I feel so goddamned…ill. Am I coming down with a virus or something?
Deep down, I’m quite certain I know the answer, and the answer is Gwendolynne Chan.
I can’t remember the last time a woman had this much of an effect on me.
I can’t remember any time a woman had this much of an effect on me.
Anytime I look at her, draw near her, or touch her, I go completely to pieces—as though my body is just a disparate cluster of cells held together by lust and longing.
At least now, being away from her, I’m starting to regain my bearings. I clutch at my chest, waiting until my heartbeat slows to an almost normal level. Then, turning toward the row of urinals behind me, I take a piss, wash my hands, and carefully adjust my bow tie.
My mask is the last thing I tackle. The black velvet ribbon is broken, but there’s enough slack that I can re-knot it—I guess those knot-tying workshops in third year were handy for more than just restraint of animals.
Fixing it back on my face, I take a deep, calming breath, trying to settle my nervous system.
I need to find Gwendolynne. It’s incumbent on me to apologize for running out on her like that.
My mind flicks back to the way she looked, clinging to my shoulders, her face all flushed and lovely.
The curves of her body against mine. The feeling of her mouth as it moved—so soft and sweet—when I finally mustered the courage to kiss her.
I wanted to bite those plum-stained lips. I want to bite her elsewhere, everywhere. Something about her is bringing out my primal, animalistic side. After tonight, I doubt I can maintain my resolve to keep away from her much longer.
I let out a sigh. Of course my timing was, as usual, terrible. Have I blown it? Hopefully not—hopefully all I need to do is explain that I’d suddenly needed the bathroom, and we can pick up where we left off.
From back in my dorm room, Pudding sends her sympathies down our bond. Don’t worry, Harrisford, she says. Gwendolynne has a kind heart. She’ll forgive you.
Sure, she’s kind and forgiving—to everyone except me.
And honestly? I probably deserve her derision.
Regardless, I square my shoulders, bracing myself as though I’m a soldier heading into battle.
This isn’t war, of course, but it’s possibly just as bad, or worse.
I’m going to have to go out there, push through the crowds, and confront a pissed-off Gwendolynne Chan.
But just as I leave the bathroom, a familiar figure steps into my line of sight.
He is tall and rakish, with a mop of thinning gray hair above a full-face mask.
He has his arm snaked around the waist of a platinum-blond woman.
She’s laughing, and she, too, is masked.
But even with her face obscured I can still tell she is definitely not Mrs. Mason-Price.
“Harrisford,” Nathaniel Price says, letting go of his companion to shake my hand. “It’s good to see you, son.”
Since Mr. Price is my father’s boss, I can’t very well turn down his offer to join him for a smoke on the upper level.
We trudge up the steps, past Darwin’s statue, the raucousness becoming more muffled as we climb up and away from the party.
The entire time, Nathaniel keeps his hand on my shoulder like a conqueror staking his claim.
“How’s your father?” he says, when we finally reach the top. After groping around his chest pocket, he draws out a cigar.
We’re on one of Hintze Hall’s famous internal balconies, overlooking the dance floor. It’s dark up here—a stark contrast to the lights and music that relentlessly pulsate below.
“Still in a coma,” I say, staring at Nathaniel as he flicks a magic-fueled lighter and lights the end. Is it even permitted to smoke in here? I think the answer is no, but no is not a word that Nathaniel bothers to pay much mind to.
“Pity,” Nathaniel says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.
I suppose I can’t blame him, since it would be highly hypocritical of me. When I think about my father being in a coma, all I feel is numb. Which is slightly concerning—surely I should be feeling something?
But there’s nothing.
What do people normally feel when their father’s life hangs in the balance? Most people would feel sad, I’d expect, but not me. Has he—being so cold and distant my whole life—trained me to be cold and distant, also?
Perhaps we Briggs men are just far too pragmatic. It’s not like Father and I ever had any semblance of closeness. There’s no love there to mourn the loss of, nothing tangible to grieve over. And I refuse to feel sad over the purely hypothetical.
I keep my eyes on Nathaniel as he blows out a puff of smoke, wondering if he ever shows signs of sadness. Has he even noticed that Percy, his old familiar, is missing? And if so, has he already purchased himself a replacement?
The cigar smoke immediately dissipates, leaving a nebulous scent of tobacco floating in the air. Nathaniel once told me that magical cigars are exactly like regular cigars except the smoke is enchanted to evaporate instantly. I never thought to ask where it actually disappears to.
“You know, son.” With the cigar still clamped between his teeth, Nathaniel pulls another from his pocket, offering it to me.
With a wave of my hand, I decline, and he stuffs it back in his pocket and leans his elbows on the balcony’s balustrades.
“For a while I thought it was your father who was trying to sabotage my company. I thought he wanted to depose me. But then he got caught up in that explosion, and I realized that it most likely isn’t him. ”
The thud of my heartbeat speeds up, and the back of my neck is clammy. I mirror the other man’s movements by leaning down and also propping my elbows on the rail.
Nathaniel is wily—as Magecorp CEO, he has to be—and I must choose my words wisely if I’m going to get him to talk. “So it’s someone external to Magecorp, then, sir? Who’s trying to sabotage the business?”
He blows out another stream of smoke. His jowls wobble as he shakes his head.
“Your guess is as good as mine, my boy. I hope it’s not someone from within the company.
You know, I try to be a good employer…But it’s not always easy.
Balancing the needs of thousands of people.
Tens of thousands, if you count foreign branches.
“But I’ve always tried to do right by them. I’m not perfect, but I will stand by that statement. And if it is an insider job, then it would be very disappointing, Harrisford. Very disappointing indeed.” He stares down at the revelers for a moment, lost in a cloud of gloom.
So our theory is right. It is sabotage, and my father was telling the truth.
That’s something, at least. “I’m sure it’s not one of yours, Mr. Price,” I say, trying to sound reassuring.
“I’m sure it’s just some fringe group with an irrational vendetta against Magecorp.
” Maybe the media is right. Maybe it is the MLO.
He sighs. “You’re probably onto something.” Giving me a sidelong glance, he adds, “You’re a smart kid, Harrisford. And well connected. If you hear anything out there”—he waves his hand in the general direction of the museum’s entrance—“you come straight to me, agreed?”
I nod, though I’m silently seething at the way he still treats me like a child.
All the sons, and kids, and boys—he’s trying to sound paternal, but it just comes across as naff.
I already loathe my own father; I don’t need someone else trying to step into the role.
It’s just another opportunity for them to let me down.
To manipulate me. To use me as a pawn in their games.
Finally, I spot Gwendolynne, my gaze narrowing in on her from above. My gut gives an uncomfortable lurch.
She’s found a friend—a Black girl wearing a silver sequined dress—and they’re crossing the dance floor, weaving hurriedly through the crowd. For a moment, I fancy that she looks up. Catches my eye. But then I blink, and she’s gone…it was probably just my imagination.
I’m temporarily distracted as Nathaniel pushes up off the railing and then turns to lean back against it. He studies me for a long while, still puffing on his cigar, until my collar feels several sizes too tight.
Finally, he says, “How’s school going?”
“University is going well, sir. We’re about to sit our final exams—”
“And then you’ll what, join the Office of Magical Animals at the Ministry?”
I turn around to lean my back against the balustrades, too.
“If I come first, then yes.” Spying the grimace that flits over Nathaniel’s face, I continue.
“It’s a good role for someone like me. The salary is well above anything a new grad vet makes, the work is interesting, there’s ample room for promotion…
Historically, most of the past recruits have gone on to have high-up ministerial positions. ”
I don’t add the most important reason: the fact that it isn’t Magecorp.
“Well, Harrisford, you know that if you don’t win the position, then we at Magecorp will absolutely welcome you with open arms. Your father’s been angling for you to join the business since you were barely out of nappies—”
“I know he has.” I try not to sound too glum about it. The prospect of a lifelong career at Magecorp has been hanging over my head like a scythe for as long as I can remember.
Na?vely, I had thought that enrolling in vet school might show Father that I wanted something different—a different path, a different life.
I had even let myself imagine days driving around the countryside, music turned up, showing up to farms in mud-splattered coveralls.
Earning a wage that was entirely my own.
But my actions just solidified my father’s ambitions, made him even more determined.
The first week of the semester wasn’t even over when he’d already approached Nathaniel and convinced the big boss to set up a brand-new magical familiars facility.
A whole, separate business arm devoted to breeding animals.
With me, Darghan Briggs’s son, as the inaugural head of the Veterinary Department.
The last time we’d argued about it, my father had given me an ultimatum.
Come first, and win the Ministry position, or else I’ll have to do as he wants and join him at the company.
And the worst part? If I don’t win the Ministry position, and don’t join Magecorp, my father had threatened to use his considerable influence to make my life elsewhere very difficult.
His sway at the Ministry is limited to a few hefty donations, but any other business, any other workplace…
Magecorp supplies the vast majority of them.
With just one phone call, he could easily prevent my promotion, rendering me incapable of any career progression at all.
My jaw muscles clench at the thought, and my head grows hot. I force myself to breathe. Perhaps I’m not so numb about my father’s condition after all. Perhaps the feeling I’ve mistaken for detachment is actually one of…relief.
If Father recovers and I don’t win the Ministry role, then I’ll be stuck at Magecorp for good, under his control and entirely subject to his whims. I’d do anything to escape that preordained fate. And the only thing throwing a wrench in my plan is—you guessed it—Gwendolynne.
Nathaniel is still talking. “And he’s very keen to see you progress up the ranks.
It’s not every day a graduate can walk out of university and straight into a leadership role.
Trust me when I say it would set you up for life.
You could even find yourself in my job one day! ” He booms out a short, sharp laugh.
“Thank you, Mr. Price. I appreciate it.” I really don’t. The last thing I want is to end up anything remotely like Nathaniel. Or my father, for that matter.
Nathaniel straightens, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Rocking a little on the balls of his feet, he says, “I’d really encourage you to think about it, Harrisford.
Imagine how thrilled your father would be if he awoke to find that his son had chosen a more lucrative path.
” He spreads his hands wide. “I needn’t remind you how much…
impact…someone with his connections can have on your career. ”
My heart drops like a stone, settling somewhere in my gut.
Nathaniel says it like it’s my choice, but in truth, it isn’t.
I have to consider the very real possibility that Gwendolynne will beat me and steal the Ministry job out from under me.
And the thought is terrifying, because in this moment, everything becomes distressingly clear: I’m going to have to betray Gwendolynne, the woman who I’m getting uncomfortably close to.
Or else I’m going to have to sacrifice myself to the capitalist machine that is Magecorp—and a lifetime of servitude beneath my father.
One of us will end up deeply unhappy and…I don’t want it to be her. The issue is, I don’t want it to be me, either.
I’ve been reckless, letting my little crush get in the way of my singular ambition, my lifelong goal…my why.
Suddenly, I feel vaguely nauseated. So I don’t respond. I just turn back around and stare down at the dance floor, hoping to glimpse a certain plum dress, as Nathaniel Price claps me on the shoulder and leisurely strolls away.