6. Cass #2
Linden must have noticed because he reached out and gently took my hand, examining the damage. His touch was warm, and I felt that flutter in my stomach again.
“These are bad,” he said quietly. “We should wrap them.”
“It’s fine,” I said, pulling my hand back. “I can keep working.”
“I’m sure you can,” he replied, pulling me toward the back of the greenhouse. “But there’s no reason for you to be bleeding while you do it.”
Linden led me through a door that connected the conservatory to the herbalism building. There was a sort of halfway room between the two, built as a laboratory of some kind. He led me over to a stool and told me to sit while he started going through a cabinet in front of me.
While the working tables were filled with old-fashioned microscopes and flasks that looked a bit more modern, the rest of the room seemed like it was straight out of the Victorian era.
The walls were lined with wooden cabinets that held thousands of small drawers.
Some were lined with velvet, others plastic, and several shelves were covered in glass jars, each sporting a neat little label.
I glanced at a few of them, unable to make heads or tails of the Latin scrawled over the stickers. It was all gibberish to me.
A moment later Linden returned with a mortar and pestle, three small jars, and a handful of what looked like dried leaves. He dumped the leaves into the mortar and began to grind them down, adding a tiny drizzle of some sticky substance from one of the jars.
“Green tea leaves,” he said as he mixed.
“And aloe vera. Both are good for helping inflammation and skin repair.” He picked up the second jar, shaking out a few golden strands of something.
“Calendula, also great for skin repair. And this,” he said, picking up the last jar.
“Is Woundwort. But it’s a special variety that has been imbued with magic since it was a seed. It binds it all together.”
I watched as Linden ground up a dark green sludge in the mortar, wondering what on earth he was going to do with it. Then, without warning, he picked up the mortar and held it close to my face.
“Spit,” he said.
“What?”
“Spit in it,” he repeated. “If it doesn’t bind with your essence, the healing magic won’t take effect immediately.”
“Are all you plant nerds this weird?” But when he didn’t reply, I let out a long sigh before leaning forward and spitting in the mortar. “There. Happy?”
“Thank you.” He gave the sludge one final mix. “Now hold out your hands. Palms up.”
I held out my hands, palms up like he said, and watched as Linden carefully spread the dark green paste across my broken skin.
It was warm to the touch, almost hot, and it smelled like fresh cut grass.
The sensation was strange. Not painful exactly, but intense.
Like my skin was waking up after being asleep.
“It’ll sting for a moment,” Linden said, his voice soft and focused. “That’s the magic working. Then it should start to feel better.”
He wasn’t wrong. Within seconds, a sharp tingling sensation spread across my palms, making me hiss through my teeth.
But true to his word, the sting faded quickly, replaced by a cool, soothing sensation that felt almost like relief.
I watched as the paste began to sink into my skin, the green color fading until it looked almost natural, like my hands had just been stained with plant matter.
“How long does it take to work?” I asked.
“By morning, they’ll be healed,” Linden replied, still holding my hands gently.
His thumbs traced small circles across the back of my wrists, and I realized he probably didn’t even notice he was doing it.
The sensation made my heart do a little flip in my chest. “The magical component helps accelerate the natural healing process. Just try not to do anything too strenuous with them tonight.”
I almost laughed at that. We still had an hour of work left. But I didn’t say anything. Instead, I just nodded and let him keep holding my hands for a moment longer than was probably necessary. For some reason, I kind of liked it. My magic stirred in my belly.
“Thank you,” I heard myself say, which was weird because I didn’t usually thank people for shit.
Linden looked up, meeting my eyes, and I saw something shift in his expression. Something softer. More open. His gold eyes seemed to glow a little brighter in the dim light of the lab, and I felt that flutter in my stomach turn into something more insistent.
“You’re welcome,” he said quietly.
My magic gave a sort of jolt and above our heads I saw a small cloud form. I could’ve written it off as humidity from the greenhouse if it didn’t also have tiny snowflakes drifting down from it at the same time.
What the hell was all that about? My magic had never acted of its own accord like that before.
We stayed like that for a few seconds longer before Linden glanced up, noticing the snow. “Can… Can I have my hands back?” I asked, trying to distract him.
Linden looked back down, his mouth widening in surprise. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
I wanted to say something as he turned away from me and began putting the jars back on the shelf.
To thank him again? No. That was stupid.
There was no reason to do it twice. Or to lie and say the snow wasn’t my doing?
He’d know I was lying though. I just didn’t want this moment to end.
For half a second, it almost felt like something was happening, though I didn’t really know what to call it.
“You should head back to the dorm for the night,” Linden said at last. “Get some rest and let your hands heal. We’ll start again tomorrow morning.”
“But I’m supposed to stay until—” I clamped my mouth shut. “You know what, sounds good to me.”
I headed out, grabbing my bag on the way. As I left, I noticed my hands were still tingling. And a part of me wondered if it was from the green paste or from Linden’s touch. But I knew the truth. The snow had come from me, not the paste. I’d been reacting to him.
Despite all my good sense, I kind of liked it.