Chapter 5 #3
Back at my workbench, I carefully weighed out everything and arranged the bowls and vials in the sequence I’d need them for this recipe. Despite the hostility of my fellow students, I felt a flutter of confidence. This, at least, was familiar work. I’d helped brew much more complex potions at home.
As I began heating my base infusion, I noticed Lukhan whispering with a group of aristocratic students. They nodded, breaking off in different directions. One brushed past my table, apologizing with exaggerated courtesy when his sleeve nearly swept my ingredient vials to the floor.
Over the next twenty minutes, a steady stream of students seemed to need ingredients or tools from the vicinity of my workstation. I kept a wary eye on my materials, remembering Elio’s warning about sabotage.
The solution in my boiling flask was turning the proper shade of silver-blue when Varro approached for inspection. He peered at the bubbling infusion with a critical eye.
“Your stirring is inconsistent,” he declared, though I knew it wasn’t. “And you’ve added too much nightshade essence.”
“With respect, Mage-Instructor, I followed the recipe exactly,” I said, keeping my voice level.
His eyebrows rose. “Are you contradicting me, student?”
“No, Mage Varro. It’s only that I—”
“Continue your work,” he cut me off, moving to a workstation closer to the front of the classroom where he nodded approvingly at Lukhan’s nearly identical potion.
I took a deep breath and returned to my boiling flask. The next step required carefully measured powder of dragonfly wort. I reached for the small envelope, only to pause—something seemed off about them. The ground leaves were considerably darker-looking than the gray-green I remembered from home.
Maybe dragonfly wort grows differently on the mainland?
Before I could ask one of the teaching assistants, Damien Corvellan appeared beside me. “Having trouble, Miss Fishwife?” he asked loudly. “Perhaps this kind of advanced work is beyond your humble village education.”
I ignored him. He waited a moment, then chuckled and moved away.
A whiff of a subtle but pleasant scent wafted in his wake. I fought the urge to inhale it.
Too bad someone so handsome has such an unpleasant personality, I thought.
His interruption had distracted me from the question I wanted to ask the teaching assistant about the dragonfly wort.
When I turned back to my work, all the assistants were on the other side of the lab, and I was out of time.
I’d have to add the contents of the packet immediately to the flask or risk ruining the potion.
The reaction to adding the powdered dragonfly wort to my potion was instantaneous and catastrophic.
To my horror, the silvery-blue solution bubbled violently, then turned an angry purple.
That’s not supposed to happen!
I barely had time to leap back before a geyser of boiling liquid erupted from the wide-mouthed flask like a volcano. It extinguished the burner and sent a wave of steaming, viscous liquid cascading across the workbench and over the edge to the tiled floor. An acrid stink filled the air.
I looked down and saw vivid purple spatters across the front of my robe. If I’d moved an instant later, the scalding-hot mess would have splashed into my face.
A chorus of cruel giggles erupted behind me. I whirled around and caught Lukhan and Damien exchanging triumphant glances.
“Miss Bernswick, what in the name of the Seven Sacred Disciples have you done?” Varro barked, striding over to me.
He studied my ruined experiment with a disgusted twist of his mouth.
“And this is precisely why first-years belong in first-year classes. You clearly failed to either follow the recipe or my instructions.”
“No, I—” I began hotly.
“No excuses, student,” he snapped. “Clean up this mess immediately and consider yourself fortunate that I’m not failing you on the spot. You could’ve hurt yourself and your fellow students.”
My eyes burned, not just from the caustic fumes of the ruined potion but from rising tears of fury and humiliation. I took the rags and bucket thrust at me by one of the teaching assistants and bent to wipe up the goo dripping from the workbench.
As I did so, I caught Lukhan’s smirk from across the lab.
Our eyes met. “And this is just the first lab of the semester,” he remarked loudly. “Whatever will Miss Fishwife do to entertain us next time we meet?”
“I don’t know,” commented Damien solemnly as the other students laughed. “But I hope it’s something creative.”
Their message was clear: This is just the beginning.
I held Lukhan’s stare for a long beat, refusing to look away first. My cheeks burned with rage, and I battled a fierce desire to march over to him and dump the rest of the ruined potion over his head.
He winked at me, then turned away to continue brewing his potion.
I clenched my hands around the rags and scrubbed angrily at the spilled mess. My heart was beating so hard that my entire body shook. For just a moment, I considered asking Mage Varro whether I could transfer to the Beginning Potions class.
But then my pride kicked in.
Dragonfire burn me before I give them the satisfaction of watching me run away!