Chapter 9
The second half of my Monday classes goes significantly better than the first. My two o’clock class—Naturalist Spellwork—is the one I have with AJ, who grinned and waved when he saw me and immediately took the seat beside me.
The professor was an older woman named Dr. Hagan with a rather quirky personality and an eclectic, colorful style.
AJ informed me after class that she was a hippie in the sixties, then became a natural healer later on.
The class itself will involve learning the properties of different plants, herbs, and crystals, then using those in spells, potions, and various medicinal remedies. On transcripts to the outside world, it will be listed as Holistic Herbalism.
Following that, I joined AJ in the library for an hour-long refresh study session, because apparently studying on the first day of classes is a normal thing here.
When my head hit the pillow last night, I was dead asleep.
I wake refreshed to the sound of rain tapping against the window, the gray skies having returned overnight.
Once again, I stress over what to wear. I had prepared myself for all sorts of things when coming to this school, but one of the things I hadn’t anticipated was just how much appearances matter.
Before this week, my idea of college had been influenced by my time at a normal university, which meant that most students would show up in jeans, leggings, T-shirts, and hoodies.
That’s not the case here. Almost everyone looks as if they’re prepared for either a formal presentation, a job interview, or a fancy business dinner.
The most casual outfit I’ve seen is a sundress.
My classes start later today for my Tuesday/Thursday schedule, at ten rather than eight, which gives me time to put more effort into my makeup and attempt to find something reasonable in my closet. As I’m tossing various clothing articles on my bed, the door opens, and Max walks in.
She’s dressed in all black, as always, wearing a flowing maxi skirt and a tight long-sleeve top with a thin leather choker around her neck. Her makeup is impeccable, with winged eyeliner and red lipstick.
Her gaze rakes over me, and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly before grabbing a book off her desk and leaving again. I roll my eyes and continue my search for something presentable to wear.
I decide on a pair of black dress pants and a baby blue blouse, then twist half of my long hair into a partial updo.
I take one last glance in the mirror on my way out. That’s as good as it’s gonna get for now.
My Advanced Plant Physiology and Biochemistry class takes place in the Natural Sciences building, as does my other class of the day, which makes my schedule incredibly convenient.
AJ is already seated at the back of the small classroom, and he flashes me a bright smile and waves me over when he sees me.
I happily oblige, grateful for a familiar face, and take the seat to his left. The one to his right is already occupied by another student who’s laughing at something he just said.
“Hey Viv!” AJ greets me as if we’ve known each other forever. “This is Joanna. She’s in the same program as me.”
“Nice to meet you.” I smile at her, and she returns the expression. Where my hair is a gentle shade of red toned down by brown, hers is a natural gingery orange that frames her face in tight ringlet curls.
“You too! What degree program are you in?”
We chat for a while, talking about our classes and professors as students trickle in and fill the seats.
“I heard this professor is kind of a hard-ass,” AJ says.
“Shit. Really?” Joanna asks.
The guy directly in front of AJ turns to chime in. “Yeah, he’s super strict and takes absolutely no shit. My sister had him last year and said he was kind of an asshole.”
I groan. “Great. Just what I need, another asshole professor.”
I don’t realize the classroom has gone quiet until someone clears their throat from the front of the room. My head snaps up, and it takes a moment for my brain to catch up with what I’m seeing.
“And on that note, let’s begin,” Alaric says from the front of the room, holding my gaze for a couple long seconds before looking away to toss his leather messenger bag onto the desk.
“My name is Dr. Alaric Vale, and I’ll be your instructor this semester.”
My stomach drops. This can’t be happening. The man I spoke to, the man I approached so confidently yesterday, the man I flirted with is my professor?
I think back on the two interactions we’ve had and start to piece together the clues. How evasive he was when answering my questions, how he shared just enough details to make me suspect he was a student but not enough to indicate he was a professor. There’s no way he didn’t do that on purpose.
But why? He easily could’ve informed me of that fact, but he deliberately kept it a secret.
He leans against the desk, half-sitting on the edge, with his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.
“It seems that some of you may already know of me—” he makes pointed eye contact with me, and I slump down in my chair “—but for those of you who don’t, I’m one of the newer professors here at Arcadia.
I previously taught at one of the other magical academies in the same subject area, but now I’m here working on expanding my research. ”
His top-secret research, I think, but maybe he was being vague about that just for fun, too.
“Despite whatever rumors you may hear about me, I consider myself tough but fair. This course will be rigorous, but you will pass as long as you put in the effort to learn the material. If you’re struggling in class, I will be available during our lab sessions for assistance as well as during my designated office hours, which you can find on the front page of your syllabus. ”
He pulls the stack of papers from his bag and distributes them to each row.
“Over the course of the semester, you’ll participate in critical analysis of primary literature, experimental design, and work on the integration of plant physiology with molecular biology, genetics, and biochemistry.
Your grade will be determined by participation, weekly lab work, two examinations, and a few written assignments.
Since you are all graduate students, you should be considering your thesis topics throughout this semester, as you’ll begin working on them next semester. ”
The room is filled with the sound of students flipping through the syllabus.
Alaric—Dr. Vale—continues, “I expect you to arrive prepared, having completed the assigned readings. I expect active engagement during discussions. And I expect you to treat the specimens we'll be working with appropriate respect and caution. Furthermore, I don’t tolerate lateness, incomplete work, or excuses. You’re all graduate students who chose to be here. Act accordingly.”
A woman closer to the front of the room raises her hand, and he points at her. “Question?”
“For the labs, do we have a different dress code?”
“Yes, during your labs you should wear closed-toed shoes and clothing that you can easily move in that you won’t mind getting dirty.
Just remember that you still have to be in normal dress code for your other courses, so it may be a good idea to pack a change of clothes in your bag if you have classes directly before or after this one. ”
He then launches into an overview of the semester's content.
While many of my professors have gone over the syllabus and given long-winded course overviews, Dr. Vale jumps right into an introductory lecture.
His teaching style is confident, demanding, and intellectually rigorous.
He asks questions that assume significant prior knowledge, nodding approvingly when students provide correct answers and offering concise corrections when they don't.
Sixty minutes into the ninety-minute class, he transitions from lecture to a demonstration. From somewhere beneath his desk, he produces a potted plant I recognize immediately with its distinctive purple hood-shaped flowers.
“Who can tell me what this plant is and why this plant is particularly dangerous?” he asks, setting it on the desk.
I raise my hand before I can think better of it. A part of me wants to hide in shame, but a larger part of me has been burning with frustration at his intentional misdirection from our previous meetings.
His eyes lock on me, and I’m even more annoyed when he doesn’t address me by name; he points and says, “At the top, in the blue.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s Aconitum napellus, also known as wolfsbane. It’s dangerous because all parts contain aconite alkaloids. Even skin contact can cause absorption.”
“Correct. And why might a magical practitioner cultivate it despite that danger?”
Thankfully, the question is for someone else to answer, because I don’t have the slightest clue.
Another student explains, “Aconite has been used historically in defensive wards. When properly prepared, extremely diluted, it can be incorporated into barrier spells that cause severe discomfort to anyone attempting to cross them. It's also a component in certain antidotes.”
“Good.”
He moves on, discussing the importance of being able to identify toxic plants not only for the danger they pose, but for their potential uses in both magical and non-magical applications.
He elaborates on how and why some plants create toxic chemical compounds through specialized metabolic pathways, finishing the lecture by tying the specific topic into the overall course topics.
When he finally dismisses us at eleven thirty, reminding us that lab hours start next week, I’m deliberately slow with packing up my backpack, taking a moment to chat with AJ before telling him I’ll catch up with him at the dining hall.
Other students file out in clusters, their conversations fading down the hallway.
Within ninety seconds, the classroom is empty except for Alaric and me.