Chapter 15 Monroe
MONROE
When I wake, Roxy & Kendrick have already left for work and Cherri still isn’t home.
I head to the Conservatory, dread swirling in the pit of my stomach the entire walk.
I don’t stop for a crêpe, fearing anything I eat will have a good chance of making a reappearance.
Between my unplanned confrontation with my professor and the new strange mark over my sternum, I can already tell today is going to be one that drags on.
Even the walk to The Nursery feels like it takes forever.
The first thing we do in Botany is gather in a circle.
The ceiling, blanketed in windowpanes at its center, casts sunlight over the pots of soil situated in front of us.
For thirty minutes we attempt to sprout anything from the pile of dirt.
The skin beneath my bra itches, breaking up my focus.
Is it bad to have clothing against whatever this mark is?
And where did it come from? Did someone make a clerical error and give me a flourish mark early?
Once Cherri and I have a moment alone, I’m going to ask her about it.
I clear my throat and run a hand over the thick material of my dress—admittedly two curtains I took scissors to and fashioned with some ribbon. I’ve gotten some odd looks, some others nodding in understanding. Perhaps I’m not the only one who’s struggled to get their magic flowing.
Regardless, no one else is staring at an empty pot. Even Dani, who clearly hates being here, is slung back in a chair, looking out the window while a tiny green stalk pokes from their soil.
It’s official. I’m the worst pupil in class.
Cherri drags a long, painted nail around the rim of her pot. Her attention drifts from the stem with a small bulb at its tip to Professor Kitt. His attention is on the two harbingers across from us whose names I haven’t bothered learning. A person can only handle so much change at once.
“Where were you last night?” I ask my roommate, though I’m not sure I actually want the answer.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
When Kitt doesn’t spare her a glance, she drops her gaze to the pot, brows scrunching together. She coaxes the bulb with a finger and twitches her nose. Yellow petals unfurl, rippling until a sunflower’s face opens skyward.
“Wow. Color me jealous.” I watch two other sunflowers blossom, wishing I sensed the slightest buzz of magic within me. Her other neighbor applauds, and the rest of us follow suit, and when Professor Kitt praises her, she beams brighter than the sunlight streaming in through the glass panes.
He comes over, inspecting her handiwork, frowning at mine. “Keep working, Monroe. Channel that energy running through you. Maybe try putting your fingers into the dirt. Think of it as an extra way of grounding your magic.”
What magic? I want to ask, but I keep my comment to myself, cup my hands around the potted plant, and tug it closer.
Grimacing, I roll my shoulders back and sink my fingertips into the soil. Bleh. A full-body shiver runs through me. I stare at Cherri’s sunflowers and imagine them growing from my pot. Wriggling my nose a few times, I brace myself for something—anything—to happen.
Behind Cherri, Professor Tess leans in the doorframe, attention lingering on my roommate.
Interesting.
“Guess that answers where you were all last night…and this morning,” I whisper. Cherri follows my line of sight, winking at Tess.
“Don’t worry, everything was completely consensual.” Cherri grins and gives a little shimmy of her shoulders. Is that why her flowers bloomed so easily? A magic boost from getting laid? I scrunch my brows, trying to recall what they’d said yesterday about soil, sex, sunlight, and our magic.
“Meanwhile, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re looking pretty wilted,” Cherri says, wincing. “You’d think you were the one pulling an all-nighter.”
Nausea blossoms in my gut. She nudges me with her elbow, but when I don’t play along, her expression turns serious. “Did you get any sleep?” Her fingers loop around the thick fabric of my dress. Her dark-purple eyes widen, lips contorting. “Are those my bedroom curtains?”
“Mine were too sheer to use. I’ll get you a new set.” I withdraw my fingers from the dirt, wiping them on my makeshift outfit with a frown. “Considering where you were last night, are you really one to be judging me right now?”
She lifts her hands up in surrender.
Class breaks, and everyone has grown something in their pot—everyone except for me. Not that I’m surprised.
“Come on. Let’s fix this before Bloomology starts.” Cherri grips my arm and guides me into an empty room a few doors down. She softly shuts the door behind her and beckons me with her hands to give her the curtains. “Why didn’t you have Roxy or Kendrick help you get dressed this morning?”
“They were still in bed…” And I was still finding the words to ask the ridiculous question that’s been sitting on my tongue all morning.
I untie the ribbon and remove myself from the floral drapery with my back to her, the curtain scraping my bare nipples after having them pressed against the fabric all morning.
I turn to face her, using my hands to strategically cover myself as best I can.
“Something really weird happened last night.”
“Monroe!” Cherri lets out a strangled sound and looks away. “What the hell are you doing? Love you but not like that.”
“I know that!” But thanks for the confidence boost. “I’m trying to show you this.”
I glance down at the tattoo, then back up at her, seeing the exact moment she realizes what I’m talking about.
“Oh.” Her hand cups her mouth.
“Why oh?” I frown down at the beautiful flowers. “Is there something wrong with me? I figured I might have gotten a flourish mark early on accident or something.”
“No, it’s not any of that. I think it’s—”
A knock at the door has us both jolting.
“Hold on,” Cherri says, dressing me in a pink lightweight sweater and a skintight black leather skirt before she rushes to the door and opens it.
“The rest of the class is waiting on you,” the dean says, glancing from the pile of floral drapes to my outfit to Cherri. Bending to grab the drapes, Cherri wiggles her nose and they disappear.
“We’re coming.” My roommate waves me forward and tugs me to her as we scamper to class. “Great rack, by the way.”
“Thanks.” At least I’ve got that going for me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with this?”
I point between my ribs.
“Yes, we’ll go see Kendrick after class. I have a feeling he’s the best one to explain. In the meantime, don’t tell anyone else about it.”
That isn’t the least bit reassuring. While I want to press further, when I see the dean at the front of the classroom instead of Briar, I decide to worry about it later.
“Professor Briar is under the weather today, so I’ll be teaching your Transformational Studies lesson,” the dean explains as we take our seats. “While he’s much more for the theatrics of the trial-by-fire method,” she scoffs, “I am a firm believer that knowledge and understanding is power.”
The projector illuminates, and she clicks the first slide.
It’s a side by side of a harbinger and a bunny with the anatomy labeled.
Using a long-stemmed lily, she taps from one side to the other, explaining how each part transitions between forms. As she talks, more and more of our classmates lose interest. Even I, someone who loves learning, am bored out of my mind.
The dean thwaps the table with her pointer. “Now, now, quit your groaning. This is important stuff. Those of you who are able to master your harbinger skills in this course will join your fellow Blooms in the mortal realm next spring—under supervision, of course.”
Next spring gives me a few months to learn everything about being a productive and flourishing harbinger. While I can’t do a lick of magic, illustrated by the empty pot sitting among the blooming buds on the table at the front, this is my shot at getting back. I have to take it.
A bunch of our classmates murmur to each other.
I lean over toward my roommate. “Is it unusual to go out and do spring right after the course?”
“Sort of.” Cherri doesn’t break her stare away from the presentation as the dean drones on. “Most Blooms don’t pass this course the first time out. Even if they do, it can take extra seasons to prepare.”
I purse my lips. “Wonder why they’ve shortened up the guidelines?”
“Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
Maybe not good for the Blooms, but good for me—if I can get my shit together, that is. Working with clients taught me that so many obstacles are ones we create for ourselves. From how much worse I am compared to everyone else, I’m starting to think this is firmly a me issue.
The skin around my sternum itches.
Unless…maybe this mark is blocking me somehow? I’ll have to find out. Thankfully, the moment classes are over, Cherri takes my hand and we exit for the Sprouts School to talk to Kendrick.
“What have you told her so far?” Kendrick asks after I lift my shirt.
His eyes dart between Cherri and me. We’re seated in bean bag chairs, which I suspect is to make us more comfortable.
But while Kendrick fits perfectly in his, the pair we’ve overtaken are made for much smaller assets than either of us has.
I shift back and forth, trying to create some sort of nook to hold myself in place.
“Nothing really.” Cherri crosses her arms and her feet, leaning back so far she almost topples out of her oversized Hacky Sack. “I wanted to be certain and figured it would be better coming from you.”
Kendrick brings a palm to his chest, brows drawing tight. “Why me?”
Cherri waves around the room. “You’re the educator.” Then she gestures toward me. “Educate her.”
“I teach children.”
“Exactly. You can break it down for her.”
“I’m right here, you know.” I wave at both of them, cutting through their vague argument.
It’s stressing me out on top of this itching.
My nail scrapes over my sweater, but I don’t press hard in case that will make whatever this is worse.
All I want is for someone to explain what is going on.
The more evasive they are, the more I worry.
“I’m sorry.” Kendrick pinches the bridge of his nose and sucks in breath. “I wasn’t expecting to explain this today…or ever, really.” Sighing, he continues, “The tattoo you are referring to isn’t a flourish mark.”
“Is it some defect? Is this why my magic hasn’t come yet?”
His lips flatten into a line. After a long inhale, he speaks very clearly and very slowly, while maintaining eye contact. “It’s your mate mark.”
It takes a moment to register that they are both waiting on me to say something, but there are no words. “As in?”
“Fate has blessed you with a mate.” Kendrick gives a small smile.
What.
Cherri claps her hands together and shoots them toward the sky. “Congratulations!”
“I-I don’t understand.” I shake my head and both their faces fall. “There must be some mix-up. I don’t even know how to dress myself. How can I already have a mate?”
This doesn’t make any sense. Why would Fate choose a mate for me now? I don’t want to be stuck with some Bloom for eternity—I don’t want to be stuck here at all.
“No clue, but now I’m the jealous one,” Cherri replies with a huff.
My body thrums with energy it has no fucking clue what to do with. After a few annoyed grunts, I get my ass out of the bean bag chair, leaving a huge double indent in it as I stand. “Okay, so how do I undo it?”
Kendrick makes a pained expression. “You can’t.”
“But I don’t want a mate.” I begin pacing back and forth, arms hugging around myself.
“I know it’s a lot at once, but this is great news,” he continues, the vein along his neck popping. “You have no clue how lucky you are. Many harbingers wait decades, even centuries for a mate mark. Myself included.”
“The last thing I feel is lucky. I literally just died.” It’s only been a few weeks, most of which I hid under the covers pretending this wasn’t real. I’m not ready for a mate. I’m not ready for the afterlife I’ve been assigned.
I can’t look at the two of them because they want me to be happy and all I am is panicked. Overwhelmed. Confused. “Whoever’s saddled with me would be much better off getting cast out into the mating pool again.”
“Maybe so, but you’ve been marked.” A knot rolls in my stomach as Cherri talks. “Fate doesn’t change her mind on these things.”
I didn’t feel the need to tie myself to someone in life, I certainly don’t feel the need to in death. This is obviously an error. I’m still learning, for fuck’s sake. “It’s not like they’re set in stone, right?”
“Actually, yes,” Kendrick corrects me, and I wish he wouldn’t. I don’t want to know anymore. I don’t want this. Any of it. “It’s a blessing—a bond.”
Well, fuck Fate and her blessings.
Who died and made her the boss? Who does this to someone?
The room tilts, my legs becoming a pair of wobbly sticks beneath me. Kendrick stands and reaches out to steady me before I fall.
Taking a deep inhale, I grip my hands around my hips, rooting myself to the spot. I’m so dizzy, I may throw up. “Where do I go to talk to Fate? I’m sure if I explain that whoever she’s decided on for me is better off with a full-fledged Bloom, she’ll understand.”
“Harbingers aren’t allowed into her Den.” Cherri comes up and places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll have to talk to a Radix and have one of them go to her on your behalf.”
“Seriously?” Guess bureaucracy even exists in the afterlife. “Where do I go to do that?”
“Their headquarters in The Nest,” Kendrick says, nodding in the direction of the burrow to our left.
I start for the door, but he catches my wrist gently.
Tipping my chin over my shoulder, I spare a glance his way, though I really need to get moving.
Do something. “But Monroe… I’ve never heard of Fate changing a match. ”
I give him a solitary nod and step out of his grasp. She’s never changed her mind before, but I’m more persistent than most.
Perhaps Fate’s finally met her match in me.