Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
The sweet scent of almond blossoms floated through the tree house window, a reminder of how close we were getting to the spring equinox.
While a weight had come off my mind when I told my aunt about her powers, the days since had been filled with new blooms sprouting everywhere, a living countdown to my one chance to save the academy.
That night, as Callan and I sat in the tree house, the stress of it all was clinging to me.
Not even the orange blossom tea was calming my nervous system.
For our plan to work, I would need to be skilled in making new Floracantus by the spring equinox.
But Leonardo da Vinci’s riddle, despite how simply it read, was proving to be difficult to unravel.
The Root and Vine Society had spent countless hours reviewing his known riddles and answers to try to get a feel for his style, but we could never quite crack the code. I had even tried reciting the riddle verbatim, backward, and searching it for anagrams, but nothing had worked.
The sound of a page flipping caught my attention, and I watched as Callan scanned an aged sheet of an old book. We were poring over the private journals and known works of da Vinci, looking for any scrap of information that could help solve the riddle.
As it neared midnight, I slammed my notebook shut. “We’re not getting anywhere.” I sighed, which turned into a yawn.
“What’s infuriating is that the riddle sounds so simple, yet it’s too vague to do anything with,” Callan said, echoing the thoughts I had been having.
“Exactly. We don’t have enough information to make the riddle usable.”
“Too bad we don’t know any descendants of the other Renaissance botanists in the book, besides Oren,” Callan said.
“We could see if any of them still hold knowledge of how to create a Floracantus. These riddles have been locked away in this book, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some familial knowledge out there somewhere. ”
“Too bad Oren didn’t know anything more about the Floracantus we used to unblock Frank.
He seems nearly as in the dark about his family history as I am.
” I let my mind skim over Callan’s words again.
“Familial knowledge…” I said, the term unlocking something in my memory.
I sat up straighter, all traces of tiredness gone.
“What are you thinking?” Callan asked, catching on to my body language. He was sitting on the stool next to me, and he turned away from the book he had been combing through to face me.
“Do you remember our first year at Evergreen Academy, when Eli used a Floracantus from his tribe to increase the nutrients in the soil and get the recharge to hold on the verdant shield?” I asked.
Callan nodded. “Yeah. He had to go back to his tribe for healing because it took so much magic out of him.”
“But what about the Floracantus he used?” I asked.
“What about it?”
“It’s not one from the book of Floracantus. It’s one that only his tribe has knowledge of,” I said, saying the last sentence with added emphasis.
Callan straightened, understanding dawning. “You think Eli’s tribe can make Floracantus?”
“Not necessarily anymore, but maybe they could at one point. Just like science and art developed independently in different regions of the world before international travel, Floracantus could have been developed by Native Americans similar to how they were by the Renaissance botanists.”
“That’s brilliant.” Callan snapped his fingers. “We’ve been approaching this in a very Eurocentric way. But there might be local knowledge right here.”
“Do you think Eli would be willing to share what he knows?”
“He might not personally know much, but there seems to be some generational knowledge passed down through his family. If we explain what’s at risk at the academy, maybe they’ll share.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with him?”
Callan nodded. “I’ll see if he’ll meet with us. But not at the academy. The last thing we need is Feathergrass catching wind of it. If Eli is available this weekend, could he meet us at your aunt’s café?”
“I think—wait.” I went through my mental calendar. “You know the play Yasmin and I have been creating props for in our prop design class? A Midsummer Night’s Dream? This is opening weekend, and we have to be there.”
Callan shrugged. “That could be the perfect cover. I can see if Eli can meet us there.”
I nodded. “That’s a good idea. We’ll just be old friends meeting up for a play. It’s worth a shot anyway.”
“It was great thinking. That’s what it was,” Callan said. “We haven’t been getting anywhere with da Vinci’s riddle. And we’re running out of time.”
“Then let’s hope Eli knows something.”
“I guess we can stop with the books for the night.” Callan closed his and used his wind powers to whisk them into a basket and secure them in a hidden compartment of the tree house.
He picked up his mug—his orange blossom tea was loaded with honeysuckle, of course—and held it up. “To finding answers.”
I clinked my mug against his. “To finding answers.”
We were suddenly very close, our knees touching as we faced each other. I tilted my mug to take a sip, and Callan’s eyes were locked on my face. They dropped momentarily to my lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbed before he cleared his throat and took a sip of his own drink.
“Did you mean what you said when Wyatt was here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
We had rarely been alone since the Floral Fete, both of us busy with classes, Callan balancing two field studies assignments to keep up appearances for his mother, and meeting with the Root and Vine Society to research as a group.
Now, we were researching as just the two of us, and I was hyper-aware of how adorable Callan looked when he was slightly sleepy and on a post-idea high.
“Which thing?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.
I set my mug down on the table and trained my gaze on him. “The one where we’re stronger together.”
“Ah, that thing.” He hooked a foot on the leg of my stool and pulled me closer in one swift movement so that I was a breath away. “I definitely meant it.”
“Does that mean…” I touched a finger to his forearm and traced a vine along it. “That kissing is no longer off limits?”
Wisps of wind caressed the back of my neck. “Do you want kissing to be off limits?”
“I’ve never wanted kissing to be off limits.”
My attention suddenly shifted to a voice calling from outside the tree house.
“Rhodes! You up there?”
Callan called back without ever taking his eyes off my face. “Everything okay, Leif?”
“Feathergrass is doing random room checks.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
I gasped, pulling back and sitting up straight. “Room checks? What is he checking for?”
“Evidence of the pranks that have been pulled on him lately, maybe. Or just flexing his power after you showed him up at the Floral Fete. Why? Have something in there you don’t want him to find?
” he teased, and I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face with the kiss we’d just been talking about, but I needed to get back.
Clearly, the tree affinities wanted Callan there to supervise too.
“No, the Vanished Compendium is secured with both of our protections in the secret room, but Yasmin is going to have a heart attack if our room gets searched. Even though she’s one of the most rule-following people I know, this is going to stress her out. I want to be there for moral support.”
With a reluctant sigh, Callan scooted back his stool, putting space between us. “Sounds like Leif is on edge too. Can I walk you back to your room?”
“Only if you can keep up.” I winked then dashed out of the tree house and onto the nearest branch.
“Cheater!” Callan called, and I could hear the laugh in his voice as he came after me.