Page 47 of Inked in Bloom
It was real.
Eager to try again, I get out of the tub, dripping onto thetowel set beside it. Moving toward the windowsill, I stare at the pot that’s empty aside from the soil. That hum still vibrates, albeit more subtly than before. I wiggle my nose, keeping my eyes open this time. Centimeter by centimeter, leaves sprout from the dirt. I’ve no clue what it’ll grow into, probably a sad patch of grass, but I’m certain I created it.
I’m not magicless. Not hopeless.
What if?—
Picturing my favorite dress, I wiggle my nose. But when I look down, I’m still naked and covered in droplets. I frown.
Guess a girl can’t have everything.
Either way, I know what I saw with those rose petals. I’m still looking at the green leaves that have now lengthened into stalks of grass, a few inches tall in my windowsill pot. It’s something. I just need to figure out how I did it and replicate it. Simple experimental theory.
Sitting down at my desk, I grab a pen and record everything that happened from the moment I got into the tub. I ignore my wet hair and scrutinize every detail. I think about the orgasm that obliterated my body and clench my thighs, recalling that intense, crashing wave of desire. The toe-curling ripples afterward.
Certainly this can’t be the only way to bring on my magic. That would be completely impractical, especially with the amount of it needed for class and beyond the veil during spring.
I tap my chin a few times.There’s got to be something else to it.
Channeling my inner researcher, I narrow down the list of variables, and begin crossing them off one by one…
21
MONROE
The next morning I’m exhausted from staying up and narrowing down what sparked my magic. The only variables that remain on the list are desire, hormonal release, and relaxation. Between staring at my empty pot in Professor Kitt’s class, I glance around at my classmates. They all look normal, growing and playing with plant variations. I need my magic to flow as well as theirs. We’re moving into afternoons at the greenhouse next week—at least those who can create greenery. I refuse to be stuck waiting until another session at the Conservatory to move forward.
Inhaling deeply, I go into some box breathing, trying to mimic the conditions of last night as much as is appropriate for the classroom. I close my eyes and sift through the senses.
Breathe in for four…hold for four…breathe out for four…hold for four.
The relaxing smell of vanilla and cherry blossoms, the warmth of the tub, the slickness of water against my skin, the velvety petals. Desire unfurls below my belly, fluttering subtly until it’s buzzing through my body.
“Well done, Monroe,” Kitt says over my shoulder.
I snap my eyes open to where he’s looking appreciativelyat the large leaves growing from my pot. Unlike last night’s grass, a thicker stem draws up from between the blades.
“Keep at it. Looking forward to seeing what you create.”
I flush under his praise. My eyes are glued to my stalk—watching it grow inch by inch until it curves over the pot in an arch. Tiny buds pepper its stem. They may not blossom with ease like the spray of hot-pink roses in Cherri’s, the irises in Skylar’s, or the lush hawthorns in Dani’s, but I’ve been here for weeks and it’s the most I’ve been able to do. More than even last night.
I bounce on my heels a few times and get back to work.
For Bloomology, Professor Tess details the harbinger cycles. They vary slightly for each season, but I focus my copious notes on spring’s charts. In the northern hemisphere, spring’s work begins in early March and ends late May.
“Now, the Storms are supposed to wait until late June, but somehow the summer heat keeps coming sooner.”
Isn’t that the truth.
I think back to my last summer in the mortal world and how damn hot it was getting around DC with a pencil skirt trapping my sticky thighs.
“It’s been hindering Spring’s work for years now and each time it gets worse.”
“Why is it happening?” someone asks from the front row. I think his name is Sam.
“We aren’t sure,” Professor Tess replies. “Our Radixes have been discussing it with Fate, and they’re trying to set up a time for all the leaders to meet.”
I glance down at my chart. Based on the northern hemisphere, rejuvenation for Blooms takes place in the summer, or winter if they’re bringing spring below the equator. Wewill all be taking a preemptive rest before next spring, so long as we pass the course. According to our instructors, it ensures we replenish our magical stores to last our first earthside season. Our magic is like a muscle, it takes time to build up strength and endurance. Rejuvenation counteracts that.
