5. Linden
Linden
Ididn’t leave the conservatory after Cass headed to his classes for the day.
There was really no reason to. My final semester at Widdershins Academy was all about my senior project.
Before now, I had been cultivating a few rare species of plants and attempting to duplicate the heartwood from my own grove back home.
But since all of that had been reduced to ash, my senior project was now rebuilding and rehabilitating the school conservatory.
It was an honorable project and one I was happy to do.
But I couldn’t deny the disappointment I felt about the entire situation.
Those heartwood cuttings were special to me and they had been showing promising signs of regrowth.
But now they were gone thanks to a drunk student who wanted to show off.
I wanted to be furious with him and a small part of me was.
But the truth was I knew exactly what it felt like to want to be special, to want to prove to everyone how powerful I was.
I’d done it in my own little ways, like using my natural dryad magic to outpace all of my classmates in the Herbalism department.
I made sure I was at the top of my class from the very beginning and I never let that title slip.
So, in a way, I understood why Cass Reed did what he did.
But that didn’t mean I was happy about it.
I wasn’t going to be cruel to him, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him either.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice a figure approaching the conservatory. In fact, it wasn’t until he cleared his throat that I finally looked up and saw him standing there. And, of course, I couldn’t help but smile.
“You look tan as hell, Nerion,” I grinned, pulling myself back to my full height. “I take it that the cottage in Greece is treating you and Teddy well?”
Nerion’s face broke into a grin, and I could see the faint freckles across his nose were even more pronounced than usual. He’d definitely been spending time in the sun over winter break.
“Linden,” he said, stepping into the greenhouse and looking around at the devastation with wide eyes. “What the hell happened here?”
“Lightning strike,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the charred remains. “A student got drunk and decided to impress his friends with weather magic. It didn’t go as planned.”
Nerion winced, his blue eyes taking in the scope of the damage. “That’s... a lot of damage.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, moving back toward the section I’d been working on before he arrived. “My entire senior project was in here. Or at least, most of it was.”
“No,” Nerion said, and I could hear the genuine distress in his voice. “Linden, your heartwood cuttings—”
“Gone,” I confirmed. “Along with the blue moonflowers, the silverleaf specimens, and about three months of work. And the heartwood cutting… that was three years of experiments up in flames.”
For a moment, Nerion just stood there, processing.
I knew how much those plants had meant to me because I’d spent countless hours in his dorm room complaining about how finicky they were to cultivate.
He’d listened patiently while I talked about soil pH levels and optimal light conditions, never once telling me to shut up even though I knew I probably bored him to death.
“Do you want me to kill him?” he offered. “Sing to him? Make him suffer?” His blue siren eyes were sparkling now. “You know how much I love to get revenge on assholes.”
I laughed despite myself, shaking my head at my best friend. “I appreciate the offer. Truly. But I don’t think singing him into a tormented state of mind is going to rebuild the greenhouse.”
“No, but it would make you feel better,” Nerion pointed out, stepping deeper into the wreckage. He picked his way carefully through the debris, his freckled face scrunched in concentration as he avoided the worst of the charred mess. “And that counts for something.”
“I guess,” I admitted. “But the Dean’s already got him working it off. Six in the morning till ten at night every day for the rest of the semester. He’s going to be miserable enough without your siren magic making it worse.”
Nerion turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “You’re being awfully forgiving about this.”
“I’m just being practical,” I corrected, though even as I said it, I knew there was more to it than that. “Besides, he seemed genuinely remorseful this morning. And he’s not a bad person, just... reckless. Young. Still figuring out who he is.”
“Sound like anyone you know?” Nerion asked with a knowing smirk.
I shot him a look. “Yeah. Like you.”
“What?!” he gasped, feigning surprise. “I’ve never been difficult or willful or reckless at all. Not even once.”
“Uh-huh.” I glanced over his shoulder. “Where’s Teddy so we can ask him what he thinks?”
“He’s at swim practice,” Nerion grinned. “And since he’s my boyfriend, let’s just say he agrees with me.”
“Whatever makes you feel better,” I smiled back. But we both knew, in nearly every situation, Teddy agreed with me. “So why aren’t you in class then?”
“My entire last semester is just painting.” He crouched down, running his fingers through the wet ash that had collected on the ground. The snow had melted thanks to Cass’s barrier and turned the ash to sludge. “I’m out searching for the muse this morning.”
“Teddy not doing it for you anymore?”
“He’s still my favorite thing to paint,” Nerion smiled. “Mostly with my cum.”
I rolled my eyes as loudly as I could.
“But I’m not feeling quite so… moody now.” He looked up at me, brows knitted together. “And it turns out, my inner turmoil was fueling my artwork. Now that I’m happy, I don’t know what to paint.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Nerion had always been dramatic, but there was something endearing about how earnestly he approached his own emotional states. “So you’re telling me that happiness is killing your art?”
“Not killing it,” he said, standing up and brushing ash from his jeans. “Just... redirecting it. I spent so long painting storms and chaos because that’s what I felt inside. Now that I’m actually content, I don’t know how to channel that into something meaningful.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” I suggested, moving back to the section of planter I’d been examining. “Maybe you need to learn how to paint joy. Contentment. Love.”
“That sounds insufferably boring,” Nerion said, but I could hear the smile in his voice. He was already thinking about it, I could tell. That was how his mind worked. He’d dismiss an idea and then spend the next three days obsessing over it.
“So what, you’re just going to wander around campus looking for inspiration?” I asked.
“Pretty much, yeah.” He stepped closer to me, peering down at the charred planter I was working with. “What are you doing?”
“Checking what survived,” I explained, letting my magic flow gently into the soil. “This one’s got a pulse. Not strong, but it’s there. I think with some time and care, it’ll make it.”
“And the others?”
I gestured toward the various sections of the greenhouse.
“Several of the larger species will recover without issue. They’ve got enough of a root ball to survive almost anything.
But the smaller things… the really delicate rare species…
they’re dead.” I let out a small sigh. “The best we can hope is that Professor Paulson and Professor Willow have seeds or cuttings stored away somewhere.”
“They might,” Nerion said thoughtfully. “Professor Paulson’s been here forever. She probably has backups of everything.”
“I hope so,” I replied, straightening up. “But even if she does, it’s going to take years to get them back to where they were. And those heartwood cuttings of mine were three years in the making. I won’t be continuing that project here.”
Nerion was quiet for a moment, and I could see him processing that information.
He knew how much work I’d put into those plants.
He’d been there for most of it, listening to my complaints and celebrating my small victories.
He also knew that the trees they came from back in the grove held much sentimental value for me.
“Well,” he said finally, “at least you’ve got the rest of the semester to work on it. And you’ve got help now, right? The Dean’s making the kid work it off?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Cass Reed. He’s the one who did this.”
“Is he at least competent?” Nerion asked, raising an eyebrow.
I thought about this morning, about how it had taken Cass three tries to get the barrier spell right. About how he’d moved through the greenhouse with the kind of careful precision that suggested he was actually trying, despite his obvious frustration.
“He’s learning,” I said carefully. “He doesn’t know much magic beyond weather work, but he’s willing to put in the effort. That counts for something, I guess.”
“So he’s an idiot,” Nerion confirmed, seeing through my carefully chosen words. “Is he at least good to look at? Nice cock?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I literally just met him. I don’t know what his dick looks like.”
Nerion raised an eyebrow. “I would’ve known in the first ten minutes.”
“You and I have very different dating styles.”
“Okay, so you didn’t fuck him yet,” he nodded. “Is he at least cute?”
I thought about it for a moment, calling up the image of him in my mind. “He’s handsome,” I nodded. “Fit, dark hair, stubble, and a strong jawline. Oh, and he’s got pretty green eyes.”
“You are so innocent,” Nerion laughed, shaking his head. “Do me a favor, when he comes back to work tonight, give him a good once over. And if he’s not at least nice to look at, let me torture him.”
I smiled at Nerion’s persistence. “I think you’ve got enough entertainment with Teddy without adding Cass Reed to your list of victims.”
“Fine, fine,” he conceded, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But I’m coming back tonight and I’m going to judge him based on his appearance alone. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Of course it is,” I said, turning my attention back to the planters. “You’re nothing if not consistent.”
“I’m trying to get you laid,” he said. “You helped me and Teddy get together, so I at least owe you that.”
“Thanks.” I just shook my head. “I love your enthusiasm.”
Nerion wandered deeper into the greenhouse, his artist’s eye already cataloging the wreckage.
I could practically see him composing paintings in his mind.
He stopped and studied the way the light filtered through the broken glass, the contrast of charred wood against the pale winter sky, the organized chaos of destruction and potential rebirth. It was very on brand for him.
“You know what?” he said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “This is actually perfect.”
I looked up from my work. “How is any of this perfect?”
“The greenhouse,” he gestured broadly. “It’s got this broken beauty to it.
Like a battlefield after the war’s over but before anyone’s started cleaning up.
It’s got potential. Energy.” He turned to me with that familiar spark in his eyes that meant he’d found his muse.
“I’m going to paint this. Every stage of it. From destruction to renewal.”
“That’s actually not a terrible idea,” I admitted. “You could document the entire restoration process. Make it a series.”
“Something like that,” he nodded. “I’m thinking of turning it into something weird and mythical and scary. Like the ruins of the acropolis or Atlantis or something. Give it a weird liminal post-apocalyptic edge.”
“Does that mean you’re going to be spending a lot of time here?”
Nerion clapped me on the shoulder. “You know it buddy. And maybe I can help you get a little more than just sub-par magical help from this guy.”
I shot him a look. “Nerion—”
“What?” He held up his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, you’re both going to be here together for hours every day. Might as well make the most of it.”
“We’re here to work,” I said firmly, but I could feel the heat creeping up the back of my neck. “Not to... whatever it is you’re suggesting.”
“I’m suggesting nothing,” he said with that infuriating smirk. “I’m just observing that you’re going to spend more time with this guy than you spend with me, and I think that’s tragic. So maybe try to enjoy his company? Have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around debris removal?”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered, turning my attention back to the planters before he could see how much his words were affecting me.
The truth was, I hadn’t really thought about Cass as anything other than the person responsible for destroying my work.
But now that Nerion had planted that seed, I couldn’t help but notice things.
The way his frustration had manifested as determination this morning.
The fact that he’d actually stuck with the barrier spell even when it was clearly difficult for him.
The way his green eyes had looked almost vulnerable when he’d admitted he didn’t know any magic besides weather work.
“Earth to Linden,” Nerion said, waving a hand in front of my face. “You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?”
“No,” I said too quickly.
Nerion’s grin widened. “This is going to be a lot more fun than I anticipated.”
Leave it to my best friend to make everything more complicated than it had to be, even if he meant well.