Page 68 of Inked in Bloom
She drops into a dramatic pose, switching between blowing a kiss, sticking her tongue out, and giving the little girl beside her a pair of bunny ears. “Come on, live a little.”
Live a little?
I ball my fists at my sides. There is no morelivingfor us. And now I’m practically on the other side of the world from everyone I care about with no update until I can see Cherri.
Skylar gets up and twirls down the ribbon of blue grape hyacinths, nudging me with her elbow. Dancing within the flower bed, she shakes her hips and plays the air guitar, reminding me of the night we spotted her boogying at the Looking Glass. “No more dean. No more books. No more professors’ dirty looks.”
“I don’t think that’s how the song goes.” It’s hard to be annoyed with her when she’s so thrilled to be here. Besides,she’s not wrong, this place is stunning. I sound like an ungrateful ass.
“Suit yourself.” She shrugs and continues rocking out in her black tank and frayed jean shorts. “All I know is I’m going to enjoy my time earthside. Haven’t been back in over five years.”
“Five years?” Cherri had mentioned it taking Blooms a while or multiple courses to be ready, but I’d assumed Skylar had been a natural—not that she’d been through classes already.
If she’s been dead five years, she must have been pretty young. “How old were you when you became a Bloom?”
“Seventeen.” She says it like it doesn’t sting, but I know it’s got to. I had another twenty-plus years that I’m a whole lot more grateful for now.
“That must have been difficult for you.”
“It was.” She reaches down and tends to the soil, nudging a few sad sprouting tulips to perk up. “I struggled a lot after I died. Then I went through the regular course twice. I almost gave up because I felt like such a failure.”
“Can Blooms even do that?”
“No. You basically take the course until you pass, but there was a lot going on the second time around, and I had no desire to go back… Just wasn’t my time, I suppose… Anyway, when they offered the expedited session this year, I jumped at the chance to finally graduate the Conservatory.”
“Congrats,” I say, realizing how much I’ve taken it for granted that I’m earthside less than a year after the accident.
Skylar points to another spot where the soil’s been kicked up, exposing the flowers’ roots. I bend down, drawing the soil over like it’s a blanket with my magic. There’s a rush of breeze, and next to me, Skylar’s body goes deadly still. I do too, unsure what the prickling is at the backof my neck. A few dark-purple anemones flutter to the ground.
“Radix,” Skylar says, standing up and brushing the dirt off her palms. The vein along her neck jumps. “We didn’t expect to see you here. I thought Radix Daneel was meant to be our chaperone?”
If Dani isn’t the Radix who’s come, who is?
I stand up and turn as a smooth feminine voice cleaves the space. “They are, but since we have so many new Blooms this year and are still trying to find out what’s been going on with the Storms, I was asked to supervise as well.”
The ache in my chest is hard to ignore. Am I disappointed Briar isn’t the one here, or is this some strange instinctual desire to be around him?
“Is it just the two of you?” she asks, barely casting me a glance.
“As far as we know. But Monroe and I have it covered.”
Corrigan’s attention darts to my partner, and the air sapped away by her scrutiny finally replenishes. Being under her supervision is going to be just swell.
On the other hand, Professor Briar could have been the one to supervise us. Suddenly, her glares feel much more welcome. Maybe once some time passes and I’m far away, the bond with Briar will finally wither, unreplenished, until I don’t feel it—him—anymore.
I can only hope.
“Will you be our point of contact for the entirety of spring?” Skylar asks, shoulders pulled back, chin held high.
“Yes.” The corner of Corrigan’s lip peels up, and it’s like being carved up the middle. “Why? Were you hoping for someone else?”
Her gaze drags over to me and lingers.
Maybe…
“No,” Skylar replies. “Just curious.”
Does Corrigan sense the bond? I train my face, not wanting to give anything away. It’s not like she has anything to worry about. She can have him. My gaze drops to the anemone, recalling the ones climbing Briar’s spine. Maybe they are mates, but I can’t help noting her flourish marks don’t have the telltale rose-gold embellishments that come with a claimed bond.
