Page 69 of Inked in Bloom
The Radix’s brows furrow, her hot-pink stare burning into me. “There’ll be about a one week overlap for this location, so don’t be surprised if you see a few Frosts around while you get started. You’ll want to use your magic to draw the sunlight and thaw any plants coated in snow or ice in the mornings.”
“When will the Frosts be done doing their work?” I ask. We haven’t been told much about the other seasonal harbingers, and I have no clue what to expect when we come across them.
“Any day now. It’s a gradual shift while they make final preparations for the transfer of seasons.” Radix Corrigan watches Skylar as she speaks, the young Bloom kneels down, paying more attention to primping the petals in the flower bed at our feet than the information being given to us. The Radix frowns then clears her throat. “They are usually very easygoing about working together. It’ll be the Storms you’ll have to be vigilant about come May. Watch out for each other and, whatever you do, stay out of their way.”
There’s a hint of warning, some unspoken threat chiseled into her words.
“Of course we will.” I draw my best smile to my lips, hoping it sells all the confidence I’m lacking since her unexpected visit.
“Yeah, sure thing, boss.” Skylar stands, slipping her hands into her back pockets.
“Good.” The Radix retreats a step, and the tension melts with each moment closer to her departure. “I will be back in a few days. If you need anything before then, do not hesitate to call on me.”
We both nod.
Before I can clarify how we can reach her, she vanishes on the breeze.
“Up for exploring?” Skylar grins, already moving on. I wish I had that attention span, but my thoughts spin and spin over how having Radix Corrigan monitoring us versus Dani, who seems unbothered by basically anything, will fare for us this season. “We’ve more than earned a little fun after breaking out of Conservatory hell.”
“Sure, why not.”
My partner puts her hands out in front of her, and a pair of floracycles appear with helmets hanging off their handlebars. I’ve only seen a handful of folks riding around on them in Florezca.
“I’ve never ridden on one before.” My voice cracks, filled with nerves and excitement.
“Well then, it’s the perfect time to learn,” Skylar says, straddling the lavender one and patting the robin’s-egg blue floracycle beside her.
“How far do you think they can go?”
“I’m not sure.” She winks and revs her engine. “But I think it’s time we find out.”
29
MONROE
Iunderstand now why Blooms rejuvenate once they’ve completed their spring duties. The work never ends. There’s checking on the plants, slowly drawing more sunlight to each region, ensuring there’s adequate hydration and shade.
I’m already exhausted.
It keeps me busy, but other than creating something beautiful that occasionally elicits awe from passersby, it doesn’t feel like I’m making an impact. Not in the way I’d always believed I would. All those years of school, starting my practice, growing the Painting Hope community...and now I’m meant to devote myself tobringing spring.
Maybe that’s why Blooms are so focused on getting a mate. They think it will fulfill them. But love isn’t a substitute for purpose. So many of my clients allowed their own goals and desires to fall away when they fell for someone else. Nothing against love or romance, but they won’t nourish you on their own. Purpose is sustenance—the further we get from it, the more our well-being suffers.
Being able to nurture nature was a skill my black-thumb self never believed I’d possessed. Still, I can’t help but feel like there must be more to eternity than this.
While we see a few Frosts, they only come out at nightsince it’s cooler and they’re phasing out from winter. Keukenhof is in the twilight of its tourist season, so a third of our time is devoted there. While it would be easier to split off and work separately, we’ve been given explicit instructions not to. I know it has to do with the Storms, but summer isn’t for another few months. Regardless, Skylar and I are both rule followers—at least for the most part.
No sleep and sticking together means lots of quality time with the bubblegum-haired harbinger. With how strong her magic seems to be, it’s hard to believe it took so long for her to graduate.
Keeping everything growing despite the changes in weather and interference from mortals takes a lot of effort. Every flower that’s plucked, we try to replace or replant. The only small reprieve we get is traveling on our floracycles, hair whipping behind us, zigzagging with and through traffic. So long as we are in our harbinger form, no one can touch us, though I’m sure they wonder where the petals flying on the wind come from. At first, I tried to wander alongside the crowds and weave around the other cars on the road. It was unsettling anytime someone or something brushed through us, but two weeks in the mortal realm and I’ve gotten over that initial discomfort. It reminds me of the pressure you experience when your body’s numbed for procedures. You can still feel everything, but it isn’t painful.
A dull throb rattles up from my sternum and echoes along my jaw. I swallow, hoping it doesn’t escalate into anything more. There’s only been two instances so far where the pain came on so strong that I doubled over from the force of it, like being struck in the ribs.
With the last few weeks away from Florezca, I’ve become more adept at discerning Briar’s emotions from my own. It makes it easier to do my job with less chanceof blockages with my magic. But every day that throbbing returns without rhyme or reason. While the first few times were alarming, I’ve learned not to be concerned. The calm that follows within minutes is reassurance enough. I’m not able to be rid of the bond, and I’m not going to claim it either, so I try to acclimate to Briar’s unavoidable presence.
Revving my engine, I zip through a Volkswagen and pull up beside Skylar. We’re a pair of pastel prima donnas in our blush-colored leather jackets Skylar whipped up for us last week. My ex had a motorcycle, but I never really rode on it. I always thought it was too dangerous, an unnecessary risk. Turns out, the real danger was just crossing the street.
We pull up to the curb and get off our bikes, hopping across the grass. With a slip of magic, the floracycles disappear.
