Page 59 of Inked in Bloom
“How do I ensure I don’t keep having them, though?”
“Magic is a form of energy. When it is stoppered, it doesn’t flow freely enough to use.” He bends and scoops up a small pile of dirt. With a nearly imperceptible wiggle of his nose, a large peony blooms up from the dirt cupped in his palm. He holds it out for me, and with a shaky hand, I take it, twirling it between my fingers. It nearly blends in, the flower the exact hue of my skin.
I brush my thumb with the velvety petals, and he sucks in a breath, focus glued where I hold his flower. Leaningover me, he rests an elbow against the windowpane. If I had a heartbeat, I’m certain it would be rioting in my chest. I’m about to stroke his beard and savor the contrast of the rough stubbles against the silky petal held in my palm?—
Knock, knock, knock.
I jolt against the window, and Briar’s spine stiffens. We turn toward the doorway where the dean is watching.
“Monroe, would you please come into my office?”
“Of course.” I hold out the peony between us for him. “Thanks again for the help, Professor Briar.”
He takes it, albeit reluctantly, then steps back, the musky vanilla with the undercurrent of something woodsy wiped from my atmosphere. The flower disappears, recaptured by his palm, and he slips his hands into his pockets. “Anytime, Dr. Tanner.”
The dean’s gaze flits from me up to him. “You should come too, Professor Briar.”
She doesn’t wait for his response before her bare feet pad against the dirt, heading down the hall, and I’m certain whatever she wants to see me—us—about, it’s not good.
24
MONROE
The dean gestures toward the chair across from her. “Take a seat, Monroe.”
She riffles through a few papers on her desk and passes one back to the vine-covered wall behind her. A thick, thorny shoot wraps around the paper, placing it in a basket at the top before it disappears into the ceiling.
Briar stands in the corner behind me, hands still in his pockets. He doesn’t take the other chair opposite the dean, nor does she invite him to.
I fidget with my fingers steepled in my lap, wondering if I’m about to be kicked out of the program. Maybe my delay in magic is finally meeting its consequence. I can’t blame the dean for being disappointed with my performance so far. No one is more frustrated than I am that I’ve only just started being able to do anything at all?—
Calmness settles over me like a blanket. My fingers quit their fidgeting, though the severe shift is disconcerting, as if every barbed tip of stress prodding at my insides has been smothered by marshmallows. I wish it were a comfort, but that calm isn’t coming from me. It’s coming fromhim.
While it’s unsettling experiencing someone else’s emotions within my body, I mirror Briar’s energy, releasingthe tension in my neck and dropping my shoulders. “Is this about the spring assignment?”
“It is.” The dean sighs, then picks up a stack of papers, turning it toward me. It was an assignment from a few days ago. “I know it’s been a rough start. I’ll be honest, I’m inclined to have you defer the course, but your professors have seen a shift in your abilities and your drive to succeed?—”
“I don’t want to give up.” Not yet. Not when I’m finally getting a hold on my magic. I’m closer to getting home than I have been since I arrived. I lift my chin, willing her to see how serious I am. “There’s never been a challenge I haven’t risen up to and I’m already improving. There are still a few more months left of training.”
“That’s true, but you will need to demonstrate moreconsistency in your courses prior to your first rejuvenation.” She frowns, glancing up at the three-handed clock, then back to me. “Starting Monday, I expect you to stay after class three times a week and work with Professor Briar on your transformation skills and any other abilities you may be struggling with.” Her gaze shifts behind me. “You’ll ensure she’s ready.”
“Of course,” I hear him say, though his voice is low.
She clasps her hands atop the desk and brings her attention back to me. The dean takes the paper stack and sends it up the vines behind her. “We are not expecting perfection, but I refuse to needlessly endanger any of my Blooms this coming spring. Is that clear?”
There’s an intensity in her warning I don’t expect, but I also don’t question it. Not when there’s still an opportunity to return to my world.
“Yes, Dean.” I push my chair out and stand up. “Thank you for allowing me to continue. If it’s okay, I’d like to get home and practice.”
“I expect weekly reports over the next month, Professor Briar.”
I blink and nod silently, suppressing the prickling sensation behind my eyes. Unable to meet the dean or Briar’s stares, I scurry out of the office and exit the Conservatory.
Cherri’s waiting for me by the greenery-encased path.
“I’m here, waiting for you to fulfill your promise,” she says, bouncing on her heels to keep in time with my quick steps. “What’s going on?”
I pat beneath my eyes, willing the tears not to come. Not when I need to get it all out. It’s tempting to hoard the truth, but it’s also good to have an ally in keeping my secrets. “I know who my mate is.”
