“It’s worse than that. If some of them have their way, they’ll force graduates on a career pathway depending on their affinity powers.”
I tensed at the words. “Force? How?”
“These people are connected. They can ensure graduates get the jobs they want them to… and that they don’t get other jobs that they don’t find suitable.”
“This sounds like some secret-society nonsense.”
Callan hesitated and looked out the imposing glass window. “Magical botanists basicallyareone big secret society, Briar. And their influence is strong, whether society knows it or not. With some of the environmental destruction we’ve seen over the past few decades, they want to make their presence even… stronger.”
“What would they do with those of us with multiple strong affinities?”
“We’d be tapped for top missions and careers of their choosing.”
“And are your parents in the group pushing for this change?”
Callan sank onto the large cushioned window seat, seeming to deflate. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“What about you? Do they want to force you into a field you don’t want to go into?”
His jaw clenched, and I knew the answer. “I’ve always wanted to go into medicine. I’ve known that since I was a kid.” He paused, turning his face away from me as he looked out thewindow again. “When I was young, I watched a friend fall prey to a cancer that could have been cured if we’d been a little further along in our alternative-therapies studies. We can do so much good with our medicines. The potential is there to heal incurable diseases. But that’s not what my parents want from me.”
Goose bumps popped out all over my arms as Callan spoke of his childhood friend, and I wanted to wrap myself around him. But I stayed a few feet away as he gazed out the window into the forest beyond. It was hard to imagine not supporting your child who wanted to go into a field as noble as medicine. Most people would be thrilled if that was their child’s dream.
“What do they want from you?” I tried to ask it tenderly, but my blood was starting to boil in anger toward his parents. Couldn’t they see what an amazing son they had? Didn’t they trust him to make decisions about his own future?
“They’ve tossed around a few ideas. Politics or something similar to what my brother is doing.”
“What does your brother do?”
Callan froze and then said smoothly, “I don’t have the clearance to talk about it.”
Someone cleared their throat, and I turned to see Professor Sage in the doorway. “Callan, we need to do your last therapy session. Briar, I’ll have to ask you to come back later.”
“Sure,” I said, though I desperately wanted to continue the conversation with Callan. I felt like he was finally opening up, and I wanted to hear anything he was willing to share. Callan stood and walked me to the door.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you keep your affinity studies going despite the curse or whatever you want to call it. Andwe’ll continue to research what’s going on with the soil. Just don’t let your guard down, okay?” His voice was gentle but serious, and the smell of his freshly showered skin enveloped me like a calming hug.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by his warning, but I nodded, trying to shake the feeling, once again, that there was more going on than I knew about.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Callan returned to classes the following week, and no one—aside from my friends, Nevah, Eli, and a few of Callan’s closest tree affinity friends—knew what had really happened. I was impressed with the ability of our small group to keep a secret but decided maybe it was inherent in our DNA. Plants were natural secret keepers. Maybe that meant magical botanists were more inclined to be too.
As April rolled into May and we approached the end of the school year, I tried not to be disheartened at how much my progress had slowed.
Callan and I sat in the library one night—he not being medically cleared to go back to the tree houses yet—and I expressed my frustration. Candles flickered in their sconces on the walls, and a pleasant, jasmine-smelling breeze drifted through the space. We had the place to ourselves, most students choosing to study outside on such a brilliant spring evening.
“I know I did this to myself, but thingsare so much harder without access to my affinity studies on campus. I don’t get to train with Nevah anymore, and the sessions I’ve been doing on my own on the Wildflower Trail at SCC have been pitiful at best. At least my painting skills have improved a ton this quarter, since I don’t have much else to focus on.”
Callan’s eyebrows pinched together, and he reached across the table to flip through my notebook. “You have gotten really good. Even better than you were with the painting you submitted at the Floral Fete, and that was pretty incredible.”
“Um, thanks,” I said, shifting uncomfortably under the praise but smiling nonetheless. I was used to Callan pushing me to do better, not reflecting on how far I’d come. “But I’m not sure how much good that will do me in the magical botany world.”
He skimmed the early pages of my botanist’s notebook and paused on one of my sketches. “Where did you get the idea for this plant sketch?”
I leaned over to see which sketch he was pointing at and scanned my memory through the early days of the school year, before my powers had been activated. I’d picked that sketch to mimic because of how unusual its markings were. It almost looked like tiny fairies were drawn on the inner side of the petals. “I saw it in a book here in the library.”
“It looks like a genie violet.” Callan’s face scrunched up in concentration. “Those went extinct shortly after the Renaissance period. They were so rare that non-magical botanists still don’t have a record that they ever existed. What book did you see it in?”
