Page 20 of Evergreen

This was a mistake, I thought distantly. Bringing him here alone. Nerion had been right about one thing. I was definitely attracted to this guy. And being out here, away from the greenhouse and the work and the weight of everything, made it harder to pretend otherwise.

“Come on,” I said, forcing myself to look away before he caught me staring. “The grove’s just through here.”

We descended the hill and pushed through a stand of younger trees. The air grew warmer as we approached, and I could feel the pulse of my home thrumming through the earth beneath my feet. The ancient oaks would be waiting, their roots deep and strong, their presence comforting in a way that nothing else could be.

But as we stepped into the clearing where my grove proper began, I felt something again. That strange presence I’d sensed back at the gas station weeks ago. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was definitely there. Watching. Waiting.

My hand instinctively went up, and the golden light of my magic flickered to life in my palm.

“What is it?” Cass asked, immediately alert. His hand came up too, and I could feel the air around us shift as his magic responded to whatever threat he was sensing.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But there’s something here that shouldn’t be.”

The presence seemed to pulse in response to our awareness of it, and then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The sensation vanished like smoke, leaving only the familiar comfort of my grove and the whisper of wind through the ancient branches.

“Are we in danger?” Cass asked, his eyes darting around the clearing.

“I don’t think so,” I said slowly, letting my magic fade. “I felt something similar before, before I went back to the academy. But it was in town, not here at the grove.” I turned to look at him. “Did you feel it?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I wasn’t trying to either.”

I frowned, studying his face in the darkness. The aurora had faded somewhat, but there was still enough light to see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders had drawn up toward his ears.

“It’s probably nothing,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely convinced of that myself. “Just residual magic from the grove. Sometimes the earth gets restless in winter.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. The grove did have its moods, its seasons of activity and dormancy. But that presence had felt different. Intentional. Aware.

“Come on,” I added, deciding to push the concern aside for now. “I want to show you something.”

I led him deeper into the grove, toward the heart of it where the oldest trees stood. These oaks had been here for centuries, maybe longer. Their trunks were so wide that it would take five people holding hands to circle them. Their branches stretched up into the night sky like they were trying to touch the stars themselves.

As we walked, I felt Cass relax slightly. The magic of the place had a way of doing that to people, drawing them in, making them feel safe. I could sense it working on him, loosening the knots of tension that seemed to be permanently wound through his shoulders.

“This is insane,” he murmured, looking up at the towering trees. “How old are these things?”

“Some are older than the academy,” I said. “Older than most of the buildings in town, probably. This grove has been here since before humans settled this region. My family has been tending to it ever since.”

I stopped in front of the largest tree, the one that was essentially the heart of my power. I pressed my palm against its bark and felt the familiar surge of connection, the way my magic and the tree’s magic intertwined like lovers’ hands.

“This is the heartwood,” I said quietly. “Where I draw my power from. I have to come back here every once in a while to replenish.” I looked up at the tree, feeling the buzz of the magic under my fingers. “My mother and father are both in this tree. And one day, I will be too.”

“So that cutting in the greenhouse,” he said, realization dawning. “That was⁠—”

“From this tree,” I nodded. “From the family grave I guess you could call it. Except they aren’t dead. They’re very much alive, just unable to speak anymore. But sometimes, if I listen very hard, I feel like I can hear them.”

I could feel Cass processing that information, could sense the weight of it settling on his shoulders. He reached out slowly and placed his own hand on the bark beside mine. The moment his skin made contact, I felt his magic flare. His wild, untamed weather magic that crackled through the connection like electricity and the air around us suddenly grew warmer.

The tree responded. I could feel it, a pulse of ancient power that seemed to acknowledge him, to recognize something in him that even he probably didn’t recognize in himself yet.

“It’s warm,” he said, his voice rough with something I couldn’t quite name. “The bark. It’s warm.”

“That’s the magic,” I explained, though I was still feeling the aftershocks of what had just happened. His weather magic shouldn’t have resonated with a dryad tree like that. The elements rarely played well together. And yet here we were, his hand next to mine, both of us connected to centuries of life and power and family legacy. And now, in a way I couldn’t quite explain, to one another.

“My parents spent decades cultivating this grove,” I continued, watching the aurora light dance across his face again. “Just like all my ancestors before them, they gave their entire lives to this forest. I was the first to venture out of the grove to see what was out in the world. But I always have to come back. If I don’t, I’ll fade and die.” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “That cutting at the academy was my attempt to see if I could cultivate another heartwood, one that I could carry with me or keep in a secondary location so I wasn’t always bound to one place.”

I felt him flinch, felt the guilt wash through the connection we still shared through our joined hands on the tree.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to burn it down.”