9. Chapter 8
The rest of her Saturday was spent rearranging furniture and unpacking.
Her muscles had been so sore that she barely had enough strength to get dinner with Maeve in the dining hall.
But the following morning, she woke up in her room—with her own plush green bedding and clothes and other items all tucked away in their proper spots—happy she’d done it all the day before.
She squeezed her dresser into the back of her small closet and tucked her bed into the corner to clear some floor space for the inevitability of bringing home plants and books.
Orientation didn’t start for another couple of hours and she couldn’t fall back asleep, instead of tossing and turning in her bed, she got dressed in her new school sweatshirt, a black skirt, and her black leather platform derbies and left to roam around campus.
She took the school map with her, keeping a mental note of Maeve’s comment the day before about students getting lost, and folded it in half to fit into her back pocket.
If she were to find any signs of Briar, she’d need to get familiar with the grounds first. She must be close if she slipped that message in with Ivy’s acceptance letter.
But what were the chances it wasn’t Briar?
She’d barely given it a thought until now.
She was so consumed by the fact that Briar was alive that she didn’t stop to think if it was a trap or not.
If it was, it was too late, considering she was already here.
She strolled through Arcania Yard, the largest courtyard on campus, which lay between Arcania Hall and the School of Glamour, where students and faculty had gathered to put together the orientation booths.
Glamour was one of the older groups of buildings on campus, though its stones were not nearly as weathered as Warfare or Intellect.
She could see why Maeve thought of the school as its own world.
Each one she passed has stayed within the Gothic style of architecture, even the newer buildings, which relied on limestone and iron for construction and used dramatic features like buttresses, spires, gargoyles, and reticulated windows, giving the campus an otherworldly feel.
Her heart dropped, and she stopped at the large circular window of one of the buildings facing the courtyard.
What was Briar’s first day like? Was the morning chilly enough that she should’ve grabbed pants instead of a skirt?
Did she have a kind roommate who helped unpack and decorate their things together in the common areas of their apartment?
Guilt flooded her, and she curled in on herself, crossing her arms as if she could prevent it from pouring out.
Arcania was everything Ivy had dreamed of so far, and it was surreal to discover parts of the campus and prepare for classes.
But her joy couldn’t shine as brightly when she knew something had happened to Briar last year.
Something bad enough that maybe she had to fake her death to protect herself?
And if her best friend was afraid for her life, how could Ivy be admiring the flowers or soaking in the school’s history like it was all normal?
As her vision grew hazy, a figure behind the window caught her attention.
Her magic prickled inside her chest, like ice fracturing beneath her skin.
The shadowy outline stood there, completely still.
Were they watching her? She rubbed her eyes, trying to refocus.
But when she looked back, they were gone.
She stepped backward and shook her head as her magic settled. She must be seeing things.
She turned away, continuing through campus until she reached the School of Nature.
Most of her classes would take place in this section this semester: Plant Pathology, Taxonomy of Arcanial Vascular Plants, and General Biology with a greenhouse lab.
While her other three—Arcane History, General Alchemy, and lab—were in Intellect.
To the left of Nature’s largest building, Sequoia Hall, was a hedge maze. She stepped closer to the entrance, where the small wrought-iron gate was propped open, and a small sign that read:
ARCANIA HEDGE MAZE
lovingly tended by the School of Nature faculty
According to her watch, she still had well over an hour until orientation began. She stepped into the maze, and a sharp pain throbbed in her palm.
“Ow, son of a bitch,” she muttered, peering down at her hand.
She rubbed her thumb across the scar, and the pain faded.
The same happened when she got to Arcania yesterday.
Could it be Briar, somehow? She wished she could remember the details of the night they performed the ritual.
There was nothing beyond stepping into the stone circle and then going home with a torn piece of cloth around her hand, soaked with blood.
She still wasn’t sure what the spell did, but maybe it could help her find Briar.
She wandered farther through the maze, lost in what her next step could be.
She passed by howling lupines, and popping poppies, and duckling daffodils until her magic pulled her deeper into the maze.
Her steps quickened as she chased it, her feet crunching on the gravel path.
What if it was Briar, and this feeling was from whatever the ritual did?
The sensation led her to a small square somewhere in the maze, where the edges were lined with firecracker snapdragons stretching eight feet into the sky in various shades of blue, purple, pink, and yellow, and their candied scent filled the air.
They swayed calmly in the breeze as the sun shone on their petals and the water from the fountain in the center trickled into its deep pool. Why would Briar lead her here?
But another person wandered in across from her.
“What are you doing here?” she shouted, her hands coming to her hips.
He was everywhere. And even worse, it seemed her magic was determined to seek him out. He crossed the garden, his hands shoved in the pockets of his black trousers, and the sleeves of the Arcania sweatshirt rode up his wrists enough for black swirls of ink to show on his skin.
“Do you yell at everyone, or is it reserved only for me?” he asked, with an irritating smirk that highlighted the dimple in his cheek.
“Just you.”
“You sure know how to make a man feel special.” His voice was smooth as he approached her, and the closer he got, the more she noticed about him.
Like the dark stubble lining his square jaw, or how his deep brown curls were still a tousled mess.
There was a slight crookedness in the bridge of his nose, as if he'd annoyed someone enough for them to punch him in the face, which must have been gratifying.
His deep blue eyes glanced down her body and back to her face as if he were…
“Wait,” she scowled, her gaze narrowing. “Are you trying to flirt with me right now?”
“No, simply making an observation. You seem tense.”
Ivy scoffed, backing a step closer to the exit. “Yeah, well. Observe this.” She flung her middle finger in the air and spun on her heel as he laughed heartily. God, that noise was grating on her every nerve.
“Okay, okay, wait. Please,” he called out through his cackling.
And for whatever reason, she stopped in her tracks.
“We clearly got off on the wrong foot.”
She turned back around. “Observed that too, did you?”
His tongue swept over his lower lip as another chuckle slipped from him. “What can I say? I notice a lot of things.”
“Oh?” Ivy stepped closer to him, tilting her head to look him in the eyes. God, the man had to be almost a foot taller than her. “And did you notice me when you were bolting through the train station yesterday? Or did you only become more observant in the past twelve hours?”
He studied her, as if he were searching for something in her, before running his hand through his hair. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”
“And not only did you practically flatten me, but what’s worse is you nearly killed Lou!”
His brow knitted together in confusion. “Who?”
“My cerulean-fern and—”
He cocked his head back. “Wait, wait, wait—you’re pissed at me over a plant?”
A powerful gust blew through the courtyard, and she took another step toward him. “He is not just a plant. He is a cerulean fern I’ve had since I was eighteen! Do you know how difficult it is to keep one of those alive for so long? And you didn’t apologize for any of it!”
“Yes, I did,” he said with full confidence. “I distinctly remember saying sorry.”
“That wasn’t an apology!” Shadows crossed over the courtyard, but Ivy could barely pay attention to any of it with all the anger coursing through her body. “You did no—”
“Hold on,” he said, tearing his gaze from her to stare at the sky. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” She finally examined their surroundings as a cloak of darkness washed over the sky.
Branches twisted and snapped as the hedges stitched over the square’s exits.
And the snapdragons swished violently in the wind before their petals transformed into something much more dangerous than their argument.
Ivy’s heart raced, watching in horror as the surrounding flowers contorted their pastel petals into a thousand tiny dragons. A thousand tiny pissed-off dragons. Screeching roars and threatening growls sounded from their maws in preparation for war.
She turned back to the man in front of her, who was watching a nearby flower hissing in his direction. “What did you do?”
His head snapped back and gawked at her, his brows twisting at the accusation. “Me? You don’t even know my name, and you’re accusing me of…this?” He gestured at all the chaos.
“I guess you’re right,” she said, holding back a laugh when his brows rose in shock. “I’m thinking too highly of someone who doesn’t have the basic decency to apologize for their wrongdoing.”
“Your plant is fine!” He shouted, throwing his arms out in frustration.