Callan nodded. “Yeah. He had to go back to his tribe for healing because it took so much magic out of him.”
“But what about the Floracantus he used?” I asked.
“What about it?”
“It’s not one from the book of Floracantus. It’s one that only his tribe has knowledge of,” I said, saying the last sentence with added emphasis.
Callan straightened, understanding dawning. “You think Eli’s tribe can make Floracantus?”
“Not necessarily anymore, but maybe they could at one point. Just like science and art developed independently in different regions of the world before international travel, Floracantus could have been developed by Native Americans similar to how they were by the Renaissance botanists.”
“That’s brilliant.” Callan snapped his fingers. “We’ve been approaching this in a very Eurocentric way. But there might be local knowledge right here.”
“Do you think Eli would be willing to share what he knows?”
“He might not personally know much, but there seems to be some generational knowledge passed down through his family. If we explain what’s at risk at the academy, maybe they’ll share.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with him?”
Callan nodded. “I’ll see if he’ll meet with us. But not at the academy. The last thing we need is Feathergrass catching wind of it. If Eli is available this weekend, could he meet us at your aunt’s café?”
“I think—wait.” I went through my mental calendar. “You know the play Yasmin and I have been creating props for in our prop design class?A Midsummer Night’s Dream?This is opening weekend, and we have to be there.”
Callan shrugged. “That could be the perfect cover. I can see if Eli can meet us there.”
I nodded. “That’s a good idea. We’ll just be old friends meeting up for a play. It’s worth a shot anyway.”
“It was great thinking. That’s what it was,” Callan said. “We haven’t been getting anywhere with da Vinci’s riddle. And we’re running out of time.”
“Then let’s hope Eli knows something.”
“I guess we can stop with the books for the night.” Callan closed his and used his wind powers to whisk them into a basket and secure them in a hidden compartment of the tree house. He picked up his mug—his orange blossom tea was loaded with honeysuckle, of course—and held it up. “To finding answers.”
I clinked my mug against his. “To finding answers.”
We were suddenly very close, our knees touching as we faced each other. I tilted my mug to take a sip, and Callan’s eyes were locked on my face. They dropped momentarily to my lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbed before he cleared his throat and took a sip of his own drink.
“Did you mean what you said when Wyatt was here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
We had rarely been alone since the Floral Fete, both of usbusy with classes, Callan balancing two field studies assignments to keep up appearances for his mother, and meeting with the Root and Vine Society to research as a group. Now, we were researching as just the two of us, and I was hyper-aware of how adorable Callan looked when he was slightly sleepy and on a post-idea high.
“Which thing?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.
I set my mug down on the table and trained my gaze on him. “The one where we’re stronger together.”
“Ah, that thing.” He hooked a foot on the leg of my stool and pulled me closer in one swift movement so that I was a breath away. “I definitely meant it.”
“Does that mean…” I touched a finger to his forearm and traced a vine along it. “That kissing is no longer off limits?”
Wisps of wind caressed the back of my neck. “Do you want kissing to be off limits?”
“I’veneverwanted kissing to be off limits.”
My attention suddenly shifted to a voice calling from outside the tree house.
“Rhodes! You up there?”
Callan called back without ever taking his eyes off my face. “Everything okay, Leif?”
