Crown and Cloak

Chapter 4

Aoife

"That's not selpie scale," My hands stopped short of the small pot of boiling magic that was our plant project. Like I'd expected, Meredith kept quiet for most of our time working on it. She wasn't quiet the same way she was during class; this wasnt shyness. Instead, Meredith seemed highly focused. She came to me after class in the morning on the day I had to meet Erik at the library with a sizeable stack of papers filled with research. She insisted we meet up today and begin concocting our antidote.

I'd had a clearer head then.

I would meet Erik, get the information we both needed and meet Meredith a day later, ready to breeze through this project. The books I brought back from the Library did little to no help. Mother had an affinity for complex spells and hexes.

She spent days in the woods trying to perfect them for reasons she kept unknown. I'd even seen her successfully cast one that turned straw into strands of solid gold. These books were records of spells I had no business casting, but it would be a start.

To my utter frustration, it wasnt, which meant I was back at square one with no idea what exactly 'Remember what I told you' meant. On top of that, I sent my mother a letter like I'd promised Erik, and she still hadn't written back. I've never been apart from her for this long, so I can't know if this would be out of character for her.

Even so, with all this distance between us and her delayed response, it makes me think I don't know my mother as well as I thought I did. That is a thought I hate myself for. "Right, sorry."

My dead end had been getting to me more than I'd like, so instead of putting together this antidote in fifteen minutes, we'd been in the lab for at least an hour and a half. The ingredients were splayed on the glass counter in front of me, and I tried to push thoughts of my mother and her cryptic message out of my head. I was holding a Quetze scale. They were rougher and more textured than Selpie scales because of their natural habitat. Selpies lived in the oceans, while the Quetze preferred any boiling environment.

I gently set it down before picking up a more iridescent scale, smaller in comparison, and more flexible. "It's a shame we have to melt this down. It's so beautiful."

As soon as the lustrous object hit the brew, it melted instantly, resulting in a small puff of blue smoke. "The saccroot is next, isnt it?" I ask, giving the pot a minor stir. "Yeah. It has to be ground into a paste."

Meredith had the bowl and pestle in hand before I could even start to grab it. I cross my arms and lean back on the table, watching her slice and grind the root plant into mush. "You're good at this." She doesn't give me more than a thankful smile, but I poke a bit further. "Why don't you speak up more in class? You obviously know what you're doing." Her movements faltered for only a second, but she played it off as if she were hitting a chunk of root. "Nobody wants to listen to me."

She didn't even glance at me when spoke, like she was resigned to it. Like being ignored and looked over was a perfectly normal thing for people to do to someone they barely knew. My chest tingles with sympathy. "I'll listen to you." Taking the bowl from her, I scraped its contents into the mixture, watching it turn a deep pink as I mixed it.

"Once people make up their mind about you, it's hard to see yourself as anything but what they think you'll be. I stopped trying to change their minds."

She continued. "The people in this school do things a certain way, and I'm not sure I enjoy it."

"I think that's the wisest thing I've heard anyone here say." A more real, more genuine smile plastered itself on her face, albeit small. "We're going to pass this project, and after, we should hang out."