Chapter 10
ELOWEN
The lake path is quiet this morning, mist hanging low over the water.
I move slowly, basket hooked over my arm, careful not to bruise the leaves I collect. Mugwort near the bank, young, clean, not yet bitter. Yarrow closer to the tree line, pale and delicate. I take only what I need.
Mira taught me early: harvesting is a conversation, not a demand.
When I return to my room, I spread the herbs on clean cloth near the window, letting the breeze do its work.
My workspace has grown over the weeks, a small shelf I cleared beside the window now holds glass jars in neat rows, each labeled in pencil.
Mortar and pestle sit to the left, the stone worn smooth from Mira's hands before mine.
A wooden drying rack I built from scrap holds bundles of rosemary and thyme, their scent mingling with the fresh mugwort I'm laying flat to dry.
The routine steadies me. I grind dried chamomile petals in the mortar, testing the texture between my fingers. Not too fine. It needs to breathe. The sound of stone on stone fills the room, rhythmic and grounding.
Sunlight catches the jars, amber glass for light-sensitive herbs, clear for those that don't mind. Everything organized by use: calming, cleansing, strengthening. Mira's system, adapted to this smaller space.
By the time I leave for the library, my hands smell faintly of green and citrus, the scent layered into my skin reminding me of my grandmother.
I'm locking my door when Lila's voice carries down the hall. "Hey, you got a second?"
She's leaning against her doorframe, wearing a forest green cardigan over pajama pants, hair down and wavy.
She steps closer, voice dropping. "Your scent's different today." She noticed too. "It’s warmer. I wanted to check if you were, you know… prepared."
I chew my bottom lip. "I've been blending chamomile and fennel. For the cramps."
"Okay. Good." She tucks her hair behind her ear. "The academy has really good heat support. Private suites, omega attendants if you want them, no questions asked. Ms. Hartley handles it."
"I'll remember that."
Lila studies me for a moment. "Are you… I mean, do you have anyone in mind? For this?"
"I have options," I say carefully, my pulse racing when I think about the three alphas who already noticed.
Her mouth quirks. "I bet you do." Then, more seriously, “It's a lot of attention. Good attention, maybe. But still. A lot. And heat makes everything more intense."
“Have you…” I begin. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you have choices." She reaches out, squeezes my hand. "Me. Seraphina. Other omegas if that’s what you want."
Something loosens in my chest. I’ve been so consumed by the greenhouse and Olivia getting sick that I’ve kept Lila at arm’s length when maybe I should’ve let her in a little more.
"If you want someone to check on you," she adds, "someone who's not them, I'm available. No judgment. No agenda. Just... omega to omega."
"Thank you," I say quietly.
She steps back toward her room. "Also, for what it's worth, half the omegas on campus are jealous and the other half are taking notes. And I heard that Sophie is dating Ben Travers now, so she’s obviously forgotten her threat about making your life hell.
" She giggles. “See you in the library for the meeting with Professor Robbins.”
She disappears into her room, leaving me standing in the hallway.
Three alphas. Heat coming. And, if Lila is right, which she normally is, Sophie has lost interest in Calder.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I’m ready for this.
Inside the library, the air is cool and hushed, layered with the scent of old paper and polish. Sunlight filters through tall windows, catching dust motes mid-drift.
I take my usual seat near the back, close to the reference shelves. A stack of books waits for me: British Isles herbal compendiums, marginalia-heavy and well-loved. I open one, scanning sketches of valerian root and feverfew leaves.
"This illustration's wrong." The voice is low. Precise.
Julian stands a respectful distance away, book tucked under one arm. He's dressed in a slate sweater today, pressed trousers, hair neat. His pale blue eyes shift from the page I'm reading to my face.
"The leaf serration is exaggerated," he continues, nodding toward my book. "That species doesn't grow like that in this climate."
I glance back at the illustration, then at him. "You're right. It's closer to Tanacetum parthenium than what they've drawn."
Interest flickers across his face. "You know the Latin names."
"Sometimes it’s easier than common names. Those change regionally."
"That reference you're using," he says, gesturing to my stack, "is outdated. This one corrects the regional bias." He sets his book on the table within reach.
I note his hands again, the same careful movements I noticed when he approached after class. Long fingers. No wasted motion.
"Thank you," I say.
"I can assist with coursework. I’m a research fellow. Independently funded."
It explains his confidence. The distance from the other students.
"You're cross-referencing regions," I add, nodding to his book. "That's not standard for Elderwood's curriculum."
"It's insufficient," he says simply. "Pack theory collapses when it assumes universality."
I close my book slowly. "You're studying alternatives."
"I'm studying what survives." He notices my pause. "I mean structurally. What endures without coercion."
I consider that. "Most systems don't bother measuring that."
"No," he agrees. "They prefer compliance. It's easier to document."
I gesture to the chair across from me. "You can sit. If you want."
A pause. Then he does, folding himself into the space like he's calculated the dimensions first.
"You don't seem surprised," he says, glancing at my notes.
"By what?"
"That I disagree with the prevailing models."
I shrug. "Plants don't grow the same way everywhere either. Assuming they should just kills them. My grandmother would say systems and soil aren't that different."
A corner of his mouth twitches. A whisper of a smile escaping.
"My father's a cultural anthropologist. Currently in Peru studying indigenous agricultural systems. My mother's a social worker, child protection services.
" His voice is matter-of-fact, but something softens at the edges.
"They both believe in helping people. Different methods. "
"And you ended up studying consent theory."
"Different methods," he repeats, with the ghost of a smile. "My sister says I overthink everything. She's probably right. Penny's a gymnast, national level."
"Sounds like she balances you out."
"She tries." The affection in his voice is unmistakable, brief but genuine. "Someone has to."
He doesn't elaborate further.
I don't ask.
"My undergraduate institution had very clear models," he says. "Traditional pack hierarchies. Well-documented. Centuries of precedent." A pause. "Three students left during my first year. Omegas. No explanation given. Just... gone."
I wait.
"The administration called it 'poor fit’," he continues.
"But I saw their schedules before they left.
Saw the required pack integration seminars.
The monitored heat cycles. The 'recommended' alpha pairings.
" His voice doesn't rise. It softens. "I started documenting alternatives after that.
Systems where people didn't have to leave to breathe. "
"Is that why you transferred here?"
"Elderwood allows questions," he says simply. "That's rare."
I think of Mira, teaching me that soil composition changes everything. That what thrives in one valley dies in another.
"Plants are the same," I say. "You can't force growth. You can only tend the conditions."
"Exactly," he says quietly. "Exactly that."
We work in silence for a while after that, the atmosphere companionable rather than strained.
His scent isn’t as powerful as Calder’s or as sweet as Tyler’s, but it has found a place somewhere inside me, nonetheless, and I find myself leaning closer to him and inhaling deeply, imprinting it on my psyche.
Eventually, he stands. "You'll want the appendix. The author was less careful there."
Then he leaves, no flourish, no backward glance.
Within moments, a shadow falls across my table. Seraphina Bloom.
"Elowen?" She sits across the table from me. "I hope this isn't weird, but I was talking to Tyler Vale and–"
I produce a tiny packet and slide it across the table towards her. "To help you sleep."
She laughs softly. "Is it that obvious?"
"No. Tyler mentioned it to me too. In the greenhouse. Chamomile and lavender with a touch of valerian."
Relief floods her face as she takes the packet of ground powder. "Thank you. You’re a lifesaver."
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
I realize, a beat too late, how bad that sounds, but other omegas are filtering into the library, finding seats in the carrels.
Lila slides onto the bench beside me. She notices the packet immediately. “If you’re starting a herbal remedy business, I’m your accountant.”
I smile. “I’ll be sure to let you know. I can pay you with flavored tea.”
“Hmm, on second thoughts, maybe I’ll handle your social media instead.”
“I’ll be your first reviewer,” Seraphina adds.
“Only if it works,” I say, surprised that the joke is growing legs.
Professor Robbins enters the library, her signature coat flapping around her legs. She pulls the librarian’s seat out from behind the counter and sits in the middle of the library facing the omegas.
“I’ll keep this meeting brief,” she says in her gentle Scottish accent, and a hush settles over the library.
“You’re probably all aware of the omega student who recently passed at our sister academy, Thornwood.
Understandably, you might all feel a little anxious, given the tragic losses we experienced here at Elderwood last year.
But I want to reassure you that your health and wellbeing is our priority. ”
“Do you know how it happened?” Seraphina asks, leading the questions on behalf of the omegas.
The professor’s gaze skims the group in the library. “I heard that there were complications following the young lady’s heat, resulting in cardiac arrest.”
Lila slumps back in her seat next to me. Others gasp, eyes wide and teary.
Something is niggling away at me about the professor’s revelation, but I put it down to my own impending heat.
“...If you have any concerns regarding your heat cycle, or any other matter, please do not hesitate to come and speak to me. Or Seraphina.” Professor Robbins gestures at the student councilor. “Or indeed, any other professor you feel comfortable speaking to.”
“Maybe Elowen could produce some herbal tea to help with heat symptoms.” Lila winks at me as she throws the suggestion into the library.
All eyes are on me.
“I…” I keep my eyes on Julian’s book in front of me.
This is what I know. This is what the Rowan omegas are best at. Only, we like to do it quietly. No glory. As little attention as possible.
“Elowen?” Professor Robbins is studying me intently. “Is this something you would like to help with?”
“I have chamomile tea.” Seraphina waves the packet in the air, and my cheeks grow even hotter. “I’m happy to do all the running around.” Her smile is eager. Hopeful.
“Okay.” I nod. “Sure, I would love to help.”
I only hope I’ve learned enough from Mira not to let people down.