Page 40

Chapter Forty

I asked Callan to meet me in the library the next night. Petra’s revelations about seeing the original Compendium Floracantus had sparked something in me, and I wanted to discuss it with the person who could help me sort through my thoughts.

Callan came in with two mugs of delicious apple cider hot toddies, and he set one on the table in front of me.

I was amazed that the library didn’t have a rule against drinks besides water, but I guessed that most of the important books were protected with enchantments that would repel any spilled liquid.

“Midnight study sessions. Really, local?”

I shook my head ruefully. Around us, the library was perfectly quiet, the other students having migrated to their rooms or other parts of the academy grounds for the night.

“Nobody’s ever in here this late.”

“So you wanted some alone time with me?” Callan’s voice was completely even, but there was a glint in his eyes.

I took a pointed sip of hot toddy. “Yes, actually. I want to discuss some theories about the book.”

Callan raised an eyebrow. Behind us, the wind whisked the library door closed, and there was a faint swirling sound that I knew was a light breeze creating a sound barrier around us.

He had been checking the library regularly for scouting plants, and so far had rooted out the only one he had found, placing it in a different portion of the academy.

“What’s on your mind?”

It was incredible how he could switch from mildly flirty casual-heartthrob Callan to strictly serious academic-heartthrob Callan.

“My field studies advisor said that when she visited the Louvre, she could sense the Compendium Floracantus because of the traces of magic it contains. Why do you think no one has sensed the magic of the Vanished Compendium yet?”

Callan contemplated my words. “It’s a good question and one I’ve thought about before. My best guess is that it’s being suppressed somehow.”

I frowned. That would throw a wrench in things. “Without the ability to sense it, it seems like it would be impossible to find.”

“It would, unless there was something that could serve as a tracking beacon,” Callan said casually, flipping one of the pages of a nearby book.

I sat up straighter.

He knew something.

“Spill.”

He studied my face for a moment, as if he wanted to drag out whatever reveal was coming.

Finally, he said, “One line of inquiry has been into the quills that were used to write the books. Obviously, the books were penned before the printing press was widely available. There is evidence that suggests the magical botanists around that time connected their books to their quills. It helped them identify who the authors were in case anyone tried to steal another’s work.

The quills would point in the direction of the book they authored. ”

“They connected their quills to their books to avoid plagiarism?” I asked .

“Stealing art was a thing even back then, it seems.”

“So you’re saying that scholars think the quills that were used to write the Compendium Floracantus and the possible Vanished Compendium are out there somewhere?”

“Not just somewhere. Many of the authors’ quills have been preserved over the years. They give off magical signatures like the one your field studies advisor mentioned. Most of them are still accessible. There’s even one that was said to have been used to pen the rumored Vanished Compendium .”

I sat up straighter. “Has anyone tried to use it?”

Callan leaned back in his seat and took a slow pull on his hot toddy. “The Root and Vine Society has attempted it multiple times over the years. By their accounts, it just spins around wildly and doesn’t point in a specific direction.”

My hope deflated like an underwater fiddle-leaf fig. “So it’s a dead end, then.”

“Maybe. Unless we learn why the quill spins, and how to make it stop.”

To console myself, I navigated to a section of the Compendium Floracantus that referenced magic that tied things together. Getting my brain around how the quills operated might take the sting off the letdown.

Across the table from me, Callan fell into quiet research as well, both of us reading and sipping our drinks. By the time I neared the end of the section I was studying, a warm buzz was filling my brain. I heard Callan sigh and flip his book closed, and I prepared to call it a night.

Then my eyes snagged on a footnote. I read it once, twice, then jumped to my feet.

“Are you okay?” Callan asked, clearly startled. The loose waves on the top of his head had extra volume now, as if he’d been running his hands through them while he read.

“Read this.” I slid the book toward him and watched as his eyes began to scan the page. “The footnote,” I clarified .

Callan spoke aloud. “’The magic tying two objects together that was used during this period required a piece of every affinity power the botanist wielded.

Because most botanists at the time are believed to have had every affinity power, modern botanists are unable to replicate this type of Floracantus at the same level. ’”

I waited with bated breath for Callan’s reaction.

“What am I not seeing?” Callan asked, clearly sensing the excitement in me.

“Modern botanists can’t create these strong tying spells because they don’t have all the affinity powers.”

“Right,” Callan said slowly.

“So what if modern botanists can’t use the quill’s locating feature correctly because they don’t have all the affinity powers?” I bit my lip, knowing he would get it now.

“Most modern botanists don’t, but you do.” He looked at me in awe, and I grinned.

“Maybe the quill would work for me. If we could get our hands on it.”

Callan leaned back and linked his hands together behind his head. “I think I might be able to help you there.”

“You know where this quill is right now?”

“I do indeed, local.” The look Callan was giving me would normally have my insides melting, but I was too excited by this latest development to get trapped in how handsome he looked.

“Finding the missing book is like finding a needle in a haystack. But with a compass”—I pointed to the compass rose on a nearby map—“navigation becomes a lot easier.” Rivers of excitement flowed through my veins as I watched Callan’s eyes drink me in.

Callan stood and came around the table. He scooped me into a hug, picking me off the floor completely. “You’re a genius, local.”

“Finally, someone realizes it,” I teased. I knew the hot toddies were making us both extra exuberant, but I didn’t care. This was good news. This was a lead to chase. And we had found it—together .

I realized then that Callan’s arms were still around me, and since I was lifted a few inches off the floor, our faces were level.

My breath caught. He was wearing that cologne that was so delicious every time he came around with it on.

It had been invading my senses all evening, and I had done my best to ignore it.

Now, I let myself breathe it in, enjoying the warm feeling it evoked.

Callan set me down and gently removed his hands from my waist. We were still standing close, and I wasn’t sure if it was the hot toddy or the buzz from the discovery, but I whispered, “Did you get a new cologne?”

Callan pulled back, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You noticed.”

“I did.”

“Do you like it?”

“A little.”

“Well, scientifically speaking, you should.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember last year when we did the phenols testing in class?”

“Yes,” I said slowly, vaguely remembering the lab where we had tested and ranked different chemical compounds by smell.

“I may have seen a glimpse of your chart.”

“You what?”

“Your chart. Where you listed your favorite scents.”

I tried to contain my jaw from falling open. “And you… what? Made a cologne out of my favorites?”

“A few of your favorites. If I put them all in there, it would have smelled terrible.”

“Peaches and sandalwood,” I murmured, feeling like the heat of a fresh garden pepper was coursing through me.

“Those are the main notes, yes.”

I had to suppress a huge smile and tried to grin coyly as I shoved gently at his chest. “Callan Rhodes, were you trying to impress me?”

“I just thought, since we were spending so much time together, it wouldn’t hurt if I smelled good to you.”

He smelled more than good, but after this little stunt, I couldn’t let that on. “Well, the jokes on you because I listed my results in reverse. You’re wearing my least favorite aromas.”

“Is that right?” he asked, voice and expression telling me he knew what a liar I was. “I’ll have to keep experimenting then.”

“You do that.”