Chapter 9: The Forbidden Forest Expedition

Elara's POV

I opened my mouth.

I don't know why I did. Maybe because I was hungry, maybe because the steam from that piece of meat had been drifting against my face for what felt like a long time, or maybe because I had been locked in a standoff with him since three in the afternoon and I was simply tired.

The fork came toward me.

I bit down.

The outside was seared, the inside still faintly pink, and the juices flooded out immediately, hot enough to leave my tongue tingling. I kept my head down and chewed slowly, deliberately.

He withdrew the fork, set it on the edge of the plate, and settled into the seat across from me.

"Well," he said.

"Too salty," I said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Very salty," I added. "The root vegetables were braised well enough. The meat was over-marinated. How long did you leave it?"

"...Two hours."

"Half an hour is plenty."

He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Noted."

I dropped my eyes and kept eating.

I had never eaten a meal with anyone quite like this. I turned it over in my mind as I chewed — what is this, what exactly is this. That afternoon he had pulled me against him by the waist in front of everyone in the corridor, and now here I was in his kitchen, picking apart his cooking.

And he just sat there, not saying a word, watching me finish every last bite.

By the time I set down my fork, it was nearly ten o'clock.

"When do I move in?" I said.

"You don't need to."

"Hasn't the contract taken effect?"

"It has," he said. "But I never said you had to move."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing, for now."

I pressed my hands flat against my knees and curled my fingers.

"I don't like this," I said.

"Like what."

"I owe eleven thousand gold coins. I've signed a contract with no end date. And you're telling me there's nothing for me to do right now." I said. "That's worse than being put to work. Give me at least one thing."

He didn't answer right away.

The wind outside caught the small kitchen window and rattled it once.

"Tomorrow, then," he said.

"What about tomorrow."

"What are you doing tomorrow."

"...The Forbidden Forest expedition," I said. "Mandatory practicum for third-year Potions — once a year. Nightbloom grass only flowers in the two hours after dark. The whole class goes in by groups and comes out before dawn."

His expression shifted slightly.

"The Forbidden Forest."

"I've been doing other people's collection runs since second year," I said. "Three copper pieces a trip. I could walk that part of the forest blind. There are accidents every year — last year a second-year broke his leg — but he tripped over his own feet. That was on him."

"I'm going with you."

"No."

"Why not."

"There's a roster," I said. "The instructor calls roll at the forest entrance. Everyone's paired, and the pairs are written down. You're not on the roster, and if someone sees me come out of the forest with you—"

"They won't see me."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'll stay fifty steps behind you," he said. "If you don't look back, they won't see me."

I opened my mouth.

"Kaelen."

It was the first time I had ever called him by his name.

He paused.

"What did you say yesterday afternoon," I said. "You said you didn't plan to enroll in the Academy. You said that by the time you knew what you were doing, you were already standing behind me."

"That's right."

"Then tell me — when you're fifty steps behind me tomorrow night, can you promise you'll stay there?"

He looked at me and said nothing.

I waited roughly five seconds.

"You see," I said.

I stood up and pushed my chair back under the table.

"Then that's what we'll do," he said.

"What?"

"You go in and collect your herbs tomorrow," he said. "I'll be fifty steps back."

I turned at the kitchen doorway and looked at him over my shoulder.

He was still sitting at that table, hadn't stood up, hadn't even untied his apron.

"...Suit yourself," I said.

The following evening at seven forty, we entered the forest.

My partner was Marla. She didn't bring up what she'd said outside the dormitory yesterday, and neither did I. We put our heads down and walked northeast toward our usual patch, and after twenty minutes we had half a basket between us.

Nightbloom grass wasn't hard to find once you knew what you were looking for. Marla had better luck than I did — she crouched beneath a low thicket, rummaged around for a while, and came up with seven or eight stalks.

"Ela," she said suddenly.

"Mm."

"Vivian and that group were going on about something in the bathhouse this afternoon."

Vivian Thorne. Second semester of second year, she had been the one to lead the charge throwing my lab notebook into the slop bin, and when she was done she'd said, Oh, sorry — I thought it was garbage.

That notebook had a year and a half of data in it.

"It's fine," I said. "I don't pay attention to them."

We moved on a little further.

I walked and counted the stalks in the basket as I went. Forty-one, forty-two. Then somewhere around forty-three, something caught my attention and I realized something was off.