“Are those baskets?” Mikalyn asked, studying the same thing I was.
They looked like nets, with fibrous rope twined together in a tight mesh and crude handles made of tangled knots. There was no doubt in my mind they were homemade by the craftsmanship. Each member of her team carried one, except Sarina who held one in each arm. And they were each filled to the brim with flowers.
“Holy Devourer,” Georlan breathed.
They easily had twenty King Protea blooms each.
Chapter 20
Healing Hurts
We were lined up for the evaluation, presenting our flowers while each of the instructors took notes down.
Sarina had offered me some of her flowers. I’d refused. There were too many witnesses, and the different condition of the flowers was obvious to any observer. Her offer also reminded me too much of Orin, coveting what he hadn’t earned.
Shortly after I'd presented my one measly flower, an animated discussion began among the instructors. They spoke too softly for me to make out though, and I wandered away.
Zevrial broke away from the rest of the instructors, flagging me down.
I stopped, too exhausted to even try to make a clean getaway.
“Tell me the truth. No arguments, no witty comebacks, just a yes or no, understood?” Zevrial's eyes were too intense as he focused on me. I shifted from one foot to the other,uncomfortable. My ankle burned like it was on fire, but still not as viciously as the original injury.
“Fine,” I said. It was starting to hurt to talk.
“Did Orin collect his own flowers from Mount Kael?” My eyebrows shot up.
“How did you—” he cut me off.
“Yes or no?” he repeated, his voice lowered an octave as he leaned his face in close to mine. His breath smelled like mint.
I didn't know what the judging criteria had been for the midterm. Would I get in trouble for having gotten Orin's flowers for him? My pulse went staccato.
“No, I—” he didn't wait for me to finish again.
“Did he attack you?”
It clicked. This wasn't about me, this was about Orin. If I lied, would he know and penalize me for it? But then again, did I have any reason to lie on behalf of Orin?
My lips pressed together as I nodded.
“Say it.” Zevrial's tone had dropped from frigid to glacial.
“Yes,” I said.
“And did he steal from you, after leaving you unconscious?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes.”
At least now I understood what Pasha and Zevrial had been talking about earlier, and the ferocious look on his face, then and now.
“Thank you.” He leaned back. “Go see Instructor Weavir to get your injuries treated—”
“I can't,” I admitted, gingerly shifting my stronger foot again. “He said he wouldn't do any more Restoration work on me until after I graduated, no matter the injury.”
“He will,” Zevrial promised, eyes darkening. “He'll do it if I tell him to.”
I sighed, bone-weary. It had been a grueling day, a grueling week even. Exhaustion had taken up permanent residence, and I just wanted to take a bath and sleep. And check on Henrik to make sure he was okay. There wasn’t enough juice left in me to argue with Zevrial.
