Chapter 6 #2
The light source becomes visible around the next bend.
A corner of the greenhouse has been sectioned off from the rest by two full walls with another door leading into the space.
This one is fully open, displaying raised beds arranged in precise patterns and plant labels identifying each specimen in sharp letters.
Just as it comes into view, the dull light of the lantern is replaced by the bright, white light of a work lamp.
And beneath that light, tending to one of the beds with careful precision, is a man.
He's bent over the garden bed, his dark hair falling across his forehead, completely absorbed in whatever he’s working on.
Broad shoulders fill out an olive green corduroy jacket, paired with black pants and practical black boots.
Circular glasses sit atop the bridge of his nose, though I can barely see them from the sidelong angle I’m watching him from.
I intentionally make noise as I take one small step closer, still standing in the doorway, but he doesn’t turn around.
He continues his work, but after a period of uncomfortable silence, he asks, “Are you going to say hello, or simply stand there observing?”
My cheeks warm and I stammer, “Sorry. Hi. I’m Vivian. I’m new to campus, so I was just exploring.”
He stands, wiping the dirt from his hands on his pants before turning to me, and I’m struck by the sheer beauty of this man as he extends his hand in greeting.
To my credit, I keep my cool as I shake his hand and take in his features.
Sharp cheekbones, dark, assessing eyes, and a distinctive jawline.
His messy, dark hair falls across his forehead, and I realize that his glasses aren’t circular but hexagonal, with thin black wire frames.
I’ve always been terrible at guessing people’s ages, but I would assume he’s a few years older than me.
Clara from admissions did say they do selective doctoral programs here as well…
I wonder if he’s in one of those, or if he’s simply a late bloomer like me.
He takes me in for a long moment, and I shift awkwardly under his intense gaze. “I’m Alaric,” he finally says, never taking his eyes off me.
“Nice to meet you.” Then, looking around, I ask, “Is the greenhouse open all the time, or do you just have special privileges?”
The corner of his lips lifts in a half-smile. “Special privileges. It’s usually locked, but I’ve managed to get a key to utilize the space for my research.”
“That’s really cool. I already miss my plants back home, as nerdy as that sounds. What kind of research are you doing?” I ask, already enthralled by the potential of researching magical plant properties. “Are you part of the master’s program? Or doctoral?”
Raising an eyebrow, he states, “Unfortunately, my research is rather sensitive, so I’m unable to talk about it at the present moment.
But you’re welcome to take a look at my garden,” he says, gesturing back to the area he’d been working in.
“I got special permission from the Dean of the Naturalism program to claim this space for myself.”
My attention slides past him toward the garden bed, and I immediately recognize one of the plants—the same plant depicted in the stained glass window of the castle.
“Is that belladonna?” I ask, moving closer to look at the purple bell-shaped flowers that give way to glossy black berries that contain enough tropane alkaloids to kill an adult human with just a handful.
He nods. “Yes.”
“And—” I crouch to survey tall stalks with tubular pink blooms “—foxglove? And hemlock?” I add, gesturing toward the white clusters of flowers.
“Indeed. Very good,” he muses, and my stomach swoops at his appreciative tone.
“What, so your special research is growing a death garden?” I joke.
He has moved closer to me now, and I can smell the faintest lingering scent of his woody cologne. “Something like that.”
“I know you said you can’t talk about your research, but… why choose research with such dangerous plants?”
I know I’m asking too many questions, but finding someone so knowledgeable on something I’ve been fascinated by my entire life is nothing short of exhilarating. Even then, my inquiry isn’t so much a genuine question as it is a way to gauge how he thinks about these sorts of things.
He’s silent for a moment before he responds. “Understanding danger is the first step in transforming it into something useful. Foxglove revolutionized cardiac medicine, belladonna is still used in ophthalmology, and even hemlock has medical applications in the right hands.”
I’m at a loss for words. The simple, confident way he articulates his knowledge is beyond impressive, and I immediately find myself wanting to stay here all night to talk to him.
When he realizes I’m not going to respond, he simply adds, “It’s always been fascinating to me how the same plants can be medicinal, magical, or lethal depending on how they’re used.”
I nod, still mesmerized by the garden before me. “This is incredible. Monkshood, oleander, lily of the valley…” I trail off.
“You said you’re new to the academy? You have an impressive amount of knowledge for a first-year.”
I bite back a smile. After questioning my own capabilities for so long, it’s nice to hear some praise.
“I actually am starting the grad program for botany. I went to a different school for my bachelor’s degree.
” I don’t mention that it was a totally normal university, not one of the other magic academies.
I make a mental note to learn how many other academies there are later.
“But honestly,” I add, “I’m just really interested in things like toxicity and medicinal herbs. ”
Curiosity crosses his expression, but whatever he’s wondering, he doesn’t ask about. “Sounds like you’re in a good program for that, then. You’re clearly knowledgeable, though I do have to question your wisdom. Wandering around campus alone at night isn’t exactly the most prudent decision.”
“How much danger could I really be in on an island that nobody can easily get off of? It’s not like they could rob me then run away,” I joke.
He doesn’t smile. “You’re in a place where magic exists without inhibition. There are far more dangerous threats here than assault or robbery.”
The memory of Max smiling, flashing her fangs at me, pops into my mind, and I want to tell him I’m not sure I’m much safer in my dorm room. I don’t, though. “Point taken.”
“Good.” He kneels down beside me and slips on the gardening gloves that had been sitting on the ground, then pulls a small knife from his pocket and carefully cuts several stems from the belladonna plant before moving onto the hemlock.
He moves through the plants with care, cutting a little bit of each and placing the cuttings in a small basket I hadn’t noticed before.
We fall into companionable silence as he continues his work and I observe, until my curiosity gets the better of me… again.
“Making a poison bouquet for someone special?” I tease.
He chuckles. “Not quite.”
“Is this for your super secret research, then?”
“No.”
“Then why are you cutting them?”
“I suspect you’ll find out soon enough,” he says, pinning me with an intense yet unreadable stare. “In any case, sometimes the most dangerous blooms can be the most beautiful.”
My cheeks warm at his thinly veiled flirtation, and before I can come up with a clever response, he stands and grabs his basket. “You should be getting back to your room, and I should be doing the same. Shall we?” He gestures toward the entrance.
I stand, and as we leave the small sectioned area, Alaric closes the door behind him and pulls something out from under his jacket.
I hadn’t noticed it before, but a thin leather cord hangs around his neck, and dangling from the bottom are three brass keys, all old and ornate like my dorm room key.
He selects one and locks the door, then raises his hand and waves his fingers in a subtle pattern over the lock until there’s a dull click.
When he sees my wide eyes, Alaric simply says, “Reinforced the lock with a standard protective charm. I know it probably seems like overkill, but I don’t want anyone interfering with my plants.”
I nod, as if I totally understand, because it’s clear he thinks my surprise is due to his careful actions rather than the use of magic.
He locks the greenhouse door behind us normally, without using additional charms, and I stand there awkwardly, waiting to see if he’ll offer to walk back to the dorms with me. Even as attractive as he is, I’m not intending on making a move; it’s just nice to have friendly company.
“Be safe on your walk back to the dorms,” he says, answering my unspoken question.
“You’re not walking back?”
He raises the basket in his hands. “I have to deliver these elsewhere. Frankly, I wouldn’t chance bringing these into the dorms. Even at a prestigious academy like this, I wouldn’t trust one of the drunk students not to eat these berries on a dare.”
I laugh. “Fair point. Well, hopefully I’ll see you around next week?”
“I’m certain we’ll run into each other,” he agrees. “I look forward to it.”
With that, he sets off down the pathway in the opposite direction of where I need to go, and I start the trek back to my dorm room with butterflies in my stomach and a renewed intrigue for what this semester might hold.