Page 66 of Inked in Bloom
“The Midwest US.”
Her brows scrunch and she sneers. “You can’t be serious.”
I know they won’t send us to where we are from. They don’t want to risk us interfering with mortals, which is apparently the number one rule for harbingers. So I put the next best region I could think of, figuring once I learned the ropes, I could use them to wrangle the rules. There’s always a work-around. I just need to find it.
The dean whistles, and everyone’s attention zips back to her and our other professors situated at the front of the classroom.
“Congrats on all your assignments and on graduating Bloom Conservatory. But don’t get too excited.” Her tone is low and serious. “It’s going to be hard work. Draining on your magic. It takes a special endurance to last the season. Endurance you all, quite frankly, haven’t developed.” She swallows thickly. “It’s your duty to get ample rest during rejuvenation. Once you’re out in the mortal realm, you will need to stay safe, help us bring the best spring ever, and keep your eyes peeled, especially as summer and its Storms draw near.”
Well, that sounds ominous.
“Remember, just because you are immortal doesn’t mean you are free from danger or consequence.” Dani scoffs from the side of the room, but the dean ignores them and continues. “It is unorthodox for us to let Blooms do this so quickly. Therefore, your pairings will be under the supervision of a Radix. Fortunately, you already happen to have a Radix in your class.”
My brows scrunch. The dean’s gaze passes over Briar and heads for the grumpy harbinger with their feet posted up on their corner desk. “Radix Daneel will be in charge of you all this spring.”
The class applauds, and the gum-chewing jerk sighs in clear annoyance. I don’t have confidence in them as a supervisor, but that could work to my advantage. Besides, I’m relieved. Between rejuvenation and this assignment, I’ll have six months away from this unwanted bond and the Bloom on the other end of it. If I was able to get through the last season unscathed, two more with plenty of distance will be a piece of cake.
27
The harbinger climbs into her bed, tucked within a blanket filled with soil. She attaches the hydration patch to the side of her neck and lies back on the pillow. Sunlight streaks across the room. Its warmth caressing her skin.
Her lids flutter closed...
And though she fights the tug at her sternum, once she falls asleep and dreams, she dreams ofhim.
DECEMBER
JANUARY
FEBRUARY
MARCH
28
MONROE
Iexpect to be groggy waking from rejuvenation, but the buzzing of magic beneath my fingertips is a live wire surging through my veins. Now I understand why they take these respites. This is the strongest I’ve felt since my death, as if all the magical energy I’ve been gifted has been bottled up inside my body, fizzy with purpose and ready to explode.
I yawn and reach for my glasses.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty, we better get to City Hall,” Cherri calls through the door.
Today, all the Blooms will be processed for our assignments.
“One minute. I need to get dressed!”
With a wiggle of my nose, I’m donned in a black pleated skirt with matching suspenders and a long-sleeved sheer white blouse over a tank top. I twist in the mirror, admiring the black heeled boots climbing up my thigh, and then glance at the clock in my room. The third hand has moved for the first time. It’s officially spring.
Though I can’t remember everything I dreamed these past three months, there were times I was almost lucid, if it were even possible. In those moments, the self-doubt crept in, thorny thoughts piercing my consciousness. Then, out of nowhere, a soothing voice would clip themat the root, reminding me of all the things I’d overcome. The all-nighters I spent studying for exams, the months by Charlotte’s bedside, the grueling course load for my doctorate. The days I moved from sunrise to sunset, meeting clients, volunteering, fostering bunnies, and checking on Beth and Richard.
“You’ve done hard things. You’ll do hard things. And you’re not alone.”
It’s become my mantra, a sharpened weapon clipping those thorny vines from creeping in.
When my dreams weren’t plagued with doubts, they revolved around a tall, tatted professor with soft-sage skin and vivid lavender eyes. It was easy fighting my attraction in the daylight. The sun illuminated all the reasons why I couldn’t act on it. But as I slipped into rejuvenation, protected in the shade, my subconscious unfurled one imaginative desire at a time. I’d expended so much energy keeping my secret during my time at the Conservatory, all the fight had left me those three-and-a-half months. So I let myself imagine, let myself want—and have—over and over. With every step toward City Center, the dreams skim the surface of my mind.
If my secret fantasies keep my magic from being stifled, then I suppose I’ll have to harness my horny energy. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with the thoughts, so long as they remain rooted in my imagination.
