Chapter Four #2
Isla sighed. Her friend knew her too well.
“You know a lot of my history. After growing up alone, fighting for everything I’ve achieved—I’ve only ever had myself to rely on.
Letting someone in, connecting like that .
..” She trailed off, her eyes suddenly stinging.
“What if I find someone and they leave? Or no one wants me that way? What if this mark is just a reminder that I’m not wanted? ”
Juliette stood and came around the table, wrapping her arms around Isla without hesitation.
“I know the matron at the orphanage told you your parents didn’t want you—that they abandoned you—but that doesn’t mean you always have to go it alone.
I want your friendship. And one day, some very lucky man is going to want you too.
And you don’t even know if that grumpy old woman was right. She sounded rather spiteful.”
Isla sniffled, blinking back tears.
“And Isla,” Juliette continued, her voice warm, “what you’ve accomplished on your own is extraordinary.
The day that cleaning lady told you to read everything you could because she noticed the rich always had books in their homes—that was a turning point.
You listened. You read. You practically out-read the librarians once you attended school.
” She gave Isla a teasing wink. “And I’m thrilled your love of books brought you into my library.
I knew the moment you walked in—we were kindred spirits. ”
She gently tucked a strand of hair behind Isla’s ear in a motherly way even though Isla was older.
“But don’t let your past keep you from finding love in your future. We don’t know why your parents left, and that matron didn’t sound like the warm, nurturing type. What I do know is that you are worthy of love.”
Isla let out a watery chuckle and wiped her cheeks. “I have a lot to learn. The abilities you listed alone were rather extensive.”
“You can ask me anything; you know that. I’m an open book.”
“Mm-hmm ... which is why I only found out yesterday that you are an Aetherian.”
Juliette winced just as a loud knock echoed through the apartment.
“Saved by the bell!” she said as she scurried off to open the door.
Isla chuckled. Juliette opened the door just as Isla wiped away the last of her tears from her cheeks and stood to clear the breakfast dishes. All this laughing and crying malarkey was really messing up her composed persona.
She heard Juliette’s enthusiastic “Good morning!” as Andrew came through the door.
Isla’s stomach twisted as he entered, so she tried to look calm as she rinsed out the teapot.
“May I present to you, Andrew,” Juliette announced with theatrical flair, “our very own Terra Summoner.”
Andrew smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with some unreadable thought. “Terra Summoner ... like I said last night, it was a natural outcome. None of us are too surprised that the botanist turned out to be Terra.”
His tone was light, his reasoning again logical, but something in his gaze—quiet and knowing—unsettled Isla. There was too much understanding there.
“Come and see,” Juliette said eagerly, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward Isla’s bedroom.
Andrew gave a low whistle as he stepped into her now jungle of a bedroom. She joined them, looking at the indoor greenhouse.
“Well, Isla,” he said, eyes scanning the riot of leaves and blossoms, “you might be a late bloomer—but you’re certainly not lacking in power.”
He turned and looked at her. His smile was warm, the bright blue of his eyes flashing with amusement. “You did all this in your sleep?”
“I didn’t mean to ...” Isla mumbled, suddenly feeling oddly defensive that her room now resembled a botanical conservatory.
Andrew’s gaze grew kind. “You will master it, Isla. I know you will.”
Instead of reassuring her—she felt the same discomfiture as before—his words I know seemed to convey more than simple encouragement.
“And how do I master it?”
“With practice and some help from ... friends.” His pause before the words friends was strange—the two of them were not exactly friends, so maybe that was why he had paused.
They hadn’t quite hit it off the way Juliette and Andrew had.
If she were being honest with herself, her desire to prove herself at the university and to his incredible mind had made sparks fly between them.
Not the romantic kind of sparks. The competitive You’re in my way academically kind of sparks.
The kind that made her want to outshine him with academic papers and prove her thesis arguments with footnotes just to wipe the smug grin off his perfectly symmetrical face.
Yes. Definitely not romantic.
She needed to change the subject. “How did you get past Mrs. Harris this morning? She’s an early riser.”
Andrew smiled. “She and I now have an understanding. She knows that from now on I will be a regular visitor.”
Isla resisted the urge to groan.
“So, I’m here this morning so I can walk you to your classes.”
“What am I, fifteen and at secondary school?” she replied, arching a brow.
Andrew smirked, entirely unfazed. “Well, you did nearly cause a full ecosystem to bloom in your sleep. You’ll forgive me if I think supervision might be wise.”
Isla folded her arms, her tone sharp. “I’m still a professor. Terra Summoner or not, I can navigate a hallway without a babysitter.”
“Debatable,” he said. “Your philodendron nearly strangled your bookcase.”
“That’s a dramatic interpretation.”
“It was inching toward me when I arrived. I’m just saying—weaponized botany is new to you. I’m offering support, not a leash.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Support that comes with smugness and unsolicited commentary?”
“Ah,” he said, as if ticking off a mental list. “The famous Isla defensive stance. Sharp wit when flustered, layered with indignation and a sprinkle of academic superiority.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but Andrew interrupted her.
“You might want to change first, though.”
“What?”
He looked at her pointedly. She looked down and her face flushed red. She was still in her nightdress. Sure, Juliette was too, but that didn’t seem to matter. Juliette looked cute, her beautiful hair all flowy. Isla did not look cute first thing in the morning. Not at all.
She tried to move past him to get inside her bedroom, only to pause.
“Can you even get to your clothes?” Juliette asked.
Trying to maintain a shred of dignity, Isla walked over to where her clothes were stored. She yanked open the drawer—only it didn’t budge. A vine had coiled itself tightly around the handle, blooming with a cheeky little flower.
“Oh, brilliant,” she muttered. “Betrayed by my own photosynthesis.”
Andrew chuckled from behind her. “Would you like me to help, or would that offend your deep-rooted independence?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “One more pun, Andrew, and I’ll see if my powers extend to poison ivy.”
He held up both hands, backing toward the door. “Understood. I’ll be in the hallway. Far from your herbaceous wrath.”
She pushed him out and shut the door—only to open it again and drag Juliette inside to help, leaving Andrew to laugh loudly in the hall.
“Okay, Lady Leafington,” Juliette said, putting on her best aristocratic voice, full of mock superiority. “Let’s get you some clothes.”
Isla looked around, wondering how they were going to manage such a feat.
“Keep calm and carry on, Isla. We shall fight the wardrobe, we shall battle through the dresser, we shall not falter at the bookshelf jungle, and we shall never surrender—never—until we find you a clean blouse!”