Finley’s mouth pulled up, a shadow of a dimple appearing as he glanced back over his shoulder at me.
“See ya later, Professor,” Finley called, shooting a cheeky wink. There was a playful glimmer in his eyes, before he turned to disappear back into the shadows with Keeffe.
“Arses,” Aine sputtered.
I didn’t know if I should spiral into a pit of humiliation or fury. So I settled with dragging a hand down my face and fell into a fit of hysterical laughter.
Breena and Aine stared at me, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion, like I’d lost my damned mind. But the tension broke as Breena’s smile spread first, the twitch of Aine’s lips following soon after. Before long, giggles slipped. The bubbly sound filled the space, happy and light, as if momentarily banishing all the doom and gloom away from the world. It was just us. Friends without masks, souls exposed . . . laughingtogether.
18
CARWYNN
“It’s sogirthy,”I muttered, cringing at the alarmingly phallic-shaped growth on the side of a tree.
A cool mist in the air smelled like earthy moss and honeysuckle.
I woke this morning out of a nightmare—shattering the onyx relic again. I shot out of bed, swearing my breath billowed like clouded frost before dissipating, just before the haunting voice.
“Two flames defy the dark . . . One buried in the womb of the mountain . . .”the voice breathed urgently, clutching at my soul.
Never had it spoken before. But I knew it was the box—it was calling to me. Speaking in riddles, yes, but definitely growing stronger. I needed to see Lochlainn’s archives first thing after work. I had to find it.
But of course, it was one of those rare mornings when we all headed out the door at the same time to teach. Breena insisted on taking the scenic route to the Institute, dragging usthrough thick forest to collect a questionable mushroom specimen before work.
The pale, squishy plant sprouted from the base of the trunk, hanging like a flaccid extension of the tree. Breena set a glass jar at her feet and pulled a small blade from her bag.
Oh god, she was actually going to do a castration. Right here. Right now.
Gross.
Aine’s face mirrored my own, disgust meeting curiosity.
“Ya cutting the tree’s lad off?” Aine quipped.
Breena’s head snapped around, lips tightening. “It’s not a penis!”
Turning to me, Aine’s mouth pulled up into a devious grin. She thrived on pushing Breena’s buttons.
“I don’t know, Carwynn. It looks like a penis to me.”
“Definitely a dick,” I replied quickly, swallowing down a laugh.
Breena growled in irritation. She was passionate about her plants and had a pet peeve against anyone who disrespected them—something Aine and I took full advantage of.
“It’s not a penis!” Breena screeched, fist tightening around the blade. Likely a threat. “It’s a fungus!”
“Well, I mean—” I gave the tree a pitying look. “He could be if his willy cheered up a bit.”
As soon as Aine’s eyes met mine, we lost it.
Breena’s glare alone could’ve cut the tree down. She huffed, kneeled, and sliced the mushroom off in one clean sweep, dropping it into the jar. The curving length jiggled slightly as it plunked down.
“Eejits,” she muttered. “If either of you ever bothered to let me teach ya something, you’d know how precious a Mirthridate Mushroom is—a rare primitive species with antidotal properties when turned to tea.”
“Ohhhh,” I drawled as realization hit. “That’s what you used when I poisoned myself with those cute pink ones!”
I was in my naive, honeymoon stage of living in Luckland back then. Picking mushrooms and wildflowers like a carefree ditz. Within hours, I puked my guts out, feverish and on the edge of blackout. Breena and Aine had taken care of me.
