Nevah and Callan both knew most of the Floracantus they liked to use from memory, of course. I had fewer than thirty simple ones memorized by the end of our first month working together. I’d also taken to sketching drawings of what some of my favorite ones did in my notebook.
Today, Nevah and I stood in the Perilous Grove. “It’s important to know that not everything to do with defensive plants is about defense at all. Sometimes, we’re rendering the plants safer to use. Take the castor oil plant.” She showed me a spiky orange plant. “Each of these spiny capsules has castor beans inside. Ricin, one of the world’s most deadly poisons, is made from this. But castor oil also has an amazing ability to grow hair and eyelashes. With a simple Floracantus, you and I can dissolve the ricin and create potent eyelash serums that will quickly make you friends here.”
I had noticed that Nevah’s eyelashes were long, dark, and thick and had wondered if it was genetics or mascara. But it sounded like it was a magically enhanced super beauty serum.The potent plant-based skin care products Yasmin had given me already had my skin glowing. I couldn’t wait to add this little gem to my routine.
“Is there a way to grow the castor beans without the ricin in the first place?”
Nevah looked at me strangely for a moment and shook her head. “There’s no Floracantus for that. It’d be nice if there was. We could probably do it with genetic engineering, though. Sometimes, modern science advances us more than magic, since we’re limited to the Floracantus that exist.”
“Does the school have priorities in what we research and create here? Do certain avenues take precedence over others?”
Nevah’s face was thoughtful. “I think they let the plants and our powers decide. Plants have all different purposes, many of them medical or nutritional but others not. If they exist, even just to enhance beauty, we can’t ignore that.”
I nodded, taking the castor beans into my hands. I repeated the Floracantus Nevah told me and felt the ricin dissolve. We completed a few more steps and soon had a clear, viscous substance in a small glass vial.
“There’s your first lash serum. Congrats.” Nevah’s words bolstered my confidence. As challenging as learning all these different affinities was, results like these made it all seem worth it.
The next evening, I went to meet Callan in our usual tree house. He was already there, jotting something in a notebook when I arrived.
“I think you’re ready to try something more advanced,” Callan said by way of greeting.
I eyed him skeptically. It was obvious that he and I haddifferent definitions of the word “advanced.” Was all the work we’d been doing to speed up the vascular system in trees child’s play to him? I was usually sweating at the end of one of those meticulous sessions.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Let’s see where your skills with herbals take you.” He walked me through brewing up some herbal concoction that would supposedly stop an autoimmune response. But instead of paying close attention to the documented steps, like Nevah would have done, he encouraged me to feel the properties of the herbs as I touched them and prepare them based on that.
I struggled through it but eventually got a mixture heating in a pot on a camp stove. As we let the concoction simmer, I thought back to the day on the mountain when I had felt my first real connection to the trees. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s up?”
“Why did you have me practice opening up to the trees when we were at the ski park? Why not here at the academy? We’ve been out here in the tree houses dozens of times.”
Callan spoke slowly. “Evergreen Academy is like an oasis for magical botanists. We have every plant, ingredient, and tool we could ever need. But it’s not like that in the real world. Eventually, you’re going to need to use your skills outside of here. I thought that trying things in your own environment, away from all the distractions of this place, might provide an opportunity for you to let loose, so to speak.”
I contemplated it and realized he was right. I’d basically been ignoring plants outside of the academy this whole year, thinking of my skills as something that only applied when I was on the school’s grounds.
Aside from the one time I’d tried—and failed—to make my aunt’s petunias bloom longer, I’d never tried to connect with them. It didn’t help that my affinity powers had become activated in winter, when evergreen trees were the main source of plant life available outside of Evergreen Academy’s grounds.
“How are you so wise?” I asked, tossing a juniper sprig at him.
Callan leaned back against the interior tree wall, tattooed forearms flexing as he tilted his head back a little. “I wish my parents thought that about me.”
I stilled. Callan rarely ever spoke of his parents or his personal life, and he always changed the subject when I tried. I’d never pushed because I was the same way when people asked me about my parents.
“You’re joking, right? You’re, like, thebeststudent in school. They have to know how smart you are.”
“Smart and wise are two different things.” The timer chimed, and Callan quickly moved over to take the lid off the pot. He stirred the contents. “Not bad, local. Not bad. Let’s try another one.” And just like that, the conversation about his parents was over, and my affinity studies took center stage once more.
Later that evening,I approached the poinsettia that my aunt had bought in the beginning of December. I’d been building a little confidence in my abilities, and Callan’swords about practicing outside of the confines of the academy had struck a chord.
The velvety plant was perched on a corner of our counter, its red flowers bold and bright. I took a seat on the counter stool in front of the poinsettia then focused on tuning everything else out. Within a minute, I could feel the tissues of the plant, the tension of the roots embedded in the soil.
The plant had already been blooming for at least six weeks, which meant the leaves would start to fall soon. My focus cracked as I had the thought, and I took a deep breath. I focused on the plant again, opening myself up. Once I felt connected, I whispered, “Longum flore,” using the same Floracantus for blooming longevity I’d tried on the petunias last fall.
A tremor of excitement ran through me as I felt a satisfied hum push itself from the poinsettia’s leaves and into the air.
“What are you doing?” Aunt Vera asked, and I jumped, quickly opening my eyes and leaning away from the plant. I hadn’t even heard her enter the room.
