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Chapter Forty-Two

“ W ho’s up for wreath making before the gingerbread house competition?

” Yasmin asked as the four of us finished dinner in the tearoom three weeks later.

Nearly everyone was eating inside now that the winter chill had fully set in.

The courtyard connected to the tearoom was empty except for a few birds scavenging for morsels.

“I’m in,” I said, and Coral and Aurielle both agreed. The winter solstice had completely snuck up on me, as it seemed to have a habit of doing.

I had been so busy the past month—with Evergreen Academy classes, field studies with Petra, my SCC coursework, and waiting impatiently for next steps on how we would get access to the quill for the Root and Vine Society—that a whole set of classes coming to an end was a bit of a shock.

I wasn’t ready for a break from my time here.

I wanted to keep going at full steam ahead.

But as we settled into one of the large white-columned and glass-walled classrooms to assemble the wreaths, I found myself warming to the change of pace.

This had always been a favorite time of year, when most families were celebrating holidays or simply soaking in the wonder of closing out another excursion around the sun.

I gathered a variety of evergreen boughs and began to weave them around the circular wire wreath frames. Bryce’s house had a larger door than the apartment my aunt and I had lived in, so I decided to go for a bolder wreath this year.

“What’s everyone doing for the winter break? Aurielle, is your family going to the fern conservatory again this year?” I asked.

Aurielle shook her head. “Sadly, no. We’re planning to stay home this year. My parents are worried about the political climate right now. How about you all?”

“Baton Rouge or bust,” Coral said, wrangling a large piece of cedar around the frame.

“I’m staying home too,” Yasmin said. “To be honest, I’m excited for a break from field studies, which is something I never imagined saying.”

My eyebrows pulled together as I looked at my friends. Aurielle and Coral were both nodding. I had been so thrilled with my field studies work I had forgotten my friends were less than happy with their own projects. “Has something happened?” I asked.

Yasmin shook her head. “Nothing major. It’s just that the field studies I grew up hearing about were opportunities to train us in conducting real research and contributing scholarship to the field.

What I’m doing now feels much more transactional.

We’re just handing off information that someone in a lab somewhere is going to use to make money. ”

Coral bobbed her fork up and down in agreement. “It kind of feels like our field studies projects have been weaponized for capitalist gain.”

“And mine feels political,” Aurielle piped in. “They’re pressing our team for environmental data, but they’re moving too quickly on wanting results. Studies like the one we’re conducting take years to draw any conclusions from, even by magical botanist standards.”

“I’m going to bring it up with my parents over the holidays. It will be interesting to hear if they have any concerns about the direction the school is going. Neither are on the board, but with the ferns’ annual strategic meeting happening soon, there is sure to be talk,” Coral said.

“Fill us in on everything they say,” Yasmin said. “Maybe it will help calm the strange feeling I have about all this.”

A second-year harvester student named Brie approached our table. “We’re looking for volunteers to judge the gingerbread house competition. Any takers?”

I thought about it for a second. If anyone was able to be an impartial judge, it was me, who had no commitment to any particular affinity. “I’ll do it.”

“Great, thanks,” Brie said. She looked around the table.

“I want to participate,” Coral said, rubbing her hands together.

“Ferns are going to dominate, quietly and calmly,” Aurielle said.

“The materials are on the table over there, so get started whenever you want. Entries have to be in by five tonight. Briar, can you stop by at five to judge?”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

“Well, ferns, are we ready to do this?” Yasmin asked, looking between Coral and Aurielle.

“Good luck. Though you three are going to make it difficult to be impartial in the judging,” I teased.

“I’m sure we’ll win on our own merits,” Yasmin said sweetly.

“I’ll be in the library until five then. I just need to add the final bow.” I secured the velvet fabric to the evergreen boughs and gave a satisfied smile. Bryce and Aunt Vera would love it.

As I was heading to the library to sketch while my friends created their gingerbread house, Callan called out to me from the bottom of the stairs.

“Wait up!” He bounded up the steps then ushered us both into the library.

With a quick look to confirm it was empty except for a couple that was on their way out, he drew me to a far corner.

“I have another update for you regarding your theory .” He put an emphasis on the last word, and I instantly knew he was talking about the quill.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense forever,” I whispered. I had already been waiting weeks for this.

“I’ve found out where the new display is going to be. Since the ink used with the quills was made of tree gum and oak gall, it will be on a special display at the tree conservatory,” Callan said, and my heart began to race.

“And we get to go there?” I was so excited that my voice lifted, and Callan softly touched a finger to my lips, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Fronds , we were standing close in this little corner.

“Yes, I’m still working out a few details of the plan, but it looks like we’re going to have a narrow window of opportunity right after Christmas.

Meadow’s mom works at the moss conservatory, and there’s an annual strategic meeting there that can serve as a guise for us to fly to Washington.

Meadow will secure us invites as part of a project for school.

I’m still formulating how we’ll get into the tree conservatory undetected, but at least our trip to Washington won’t have to be full stealth. ”

Energy was buzzing through my veins. “Does everyone else know?”

“Kaito has been spreading the word. The mission will only consist of critical members. It’ll draw less attention to have a smaller group.”

“Please tell me I’m a critical member.”

“The girl who might be able to use the quill?” His eyes were crinkling at the corners, and a warm breeze touched the back of my neck. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind. ”

I smiled so wide I felt it in every corner of my face. I dreamed of seeing one of the conservatories one day. And to get to see the tree conservatory—Callan’s lead affinity—the thought was overwhelmingly appealing.

“Good. Because there’s no way I’m missing this.”