"Yes.” She sets her bag down on her workbench. "Just… different."
He nods once. "Good different?"
"I think so." She considers it for a moment. "More aware. Of myself. My surroundings." Her eyes meet mine and more color rises to her cheeks. “Of… everyone else too.”
“Everyoneelse?”
She lowers her eyes, her lashes casting a shadow across her rosy cheeks. “Well, certain people.”
She literally has no idea how that makes me feel. I glance at Calder and even though his hands are still working, I know he feels the same way from his deliberate movements and the way he keeps his eyes fixed on the sandpaper. I’ve been aware of Elowen since I first saw her in town and made a silent promise to myself to take this at her pace. Now, I know that Calder and I are on the same page, I can lower my shoulders from around my ears and relax a little.
She rolls up her sleeves and teases lemon balm shoots free from their pots, cradling them in her hand before tucking them intolarger containers with a mix of loam and sand. She presses the soil gently around each stem, checking moisture levels, making sure none are waterlogged.
"That's the one that helps with sleep, right?" I ask.
"Among other things." She glances at me, a small smile tugging her lips upward.
"Seraphina mentioned she's been having trouble sleeping lately. Stress from her thesis. Would it help?"
She thinks about it. "I could make a blend. Chamomile, lavender, a touch of valerian if she doesn't mind the scent." This is where she really comes alive. “I gave some to Olivia when she was sick.”
"I arrest my case, your honor.”
Elowen laughs, and every instinct is pushing me in her direction, telling me how soft her lips would feel if I kissed her.
“Elowen, the whole academy knows this is what you’re good at.”
“Okay.” She steps back from the table, her hand fluttering over her chest like she’s trying to cool herself down.
Calder notices at the same time. "You want to take a break?" he asks.
"No." She shakes her head. "I’m fine, just paying more attention."
The door opens before the silence fully settles.
Julian.
He's carrying a book, thick, leather-bound, with frayedpage markers. He doesn't announce himself, just steps inside with that careful, measured stride.
"I thought you might find this useful," he says, setting the book on the table near Elowen. "British Isles herbalism. Chapter seven covers heat-soothing blends, traditional formulations, not modern pharmaceuticals."
She blinks at him while the words sink in. "How did you?—"
"Your scent's different,” he says simply. “Warmer. Not uncomfortable yet, but present."
She swallows, her eyes fixated on the book, and I want to go to her, tell her that it’s good we’ve all noticed because we’re all here for her in our own way. But I don’t.
No pressure.Calder and I shook on it.
"The book's from the archives. You can keep it as long as you need." Julian glances at Calder, then me. "She should have options. Knowledge helps." He turns back to her. "If you need anything else, library access, specific texts, let me know."
Then he's gone, the door closing softly behind him.
I stare at the book cover as Elowen opens it carefully.
Herbal Support During Biological Cycles: Traditional Omega Preparations
"He's right," Calder says quietly.
