The air in Greenhouse 4 had the scent of royal magic— gone sour.
'What the—'
Elias didn't think. His body reacted naturally like it did around dangerous plants that needed taming.
Thinking was for the lecture halls and the ballrooms he avoided.
Here, he was simply a plant magic user.
He dropped to his knees in the damp soil. The stain on his uniform from the tea was forgotten. All he saw was the prince.
Cassian Thalorin was on the potting bench looking a mess. His breathing was visibly labored. There were gold vines pulsing under his skin as he struggled.
Elias reached out. His fingers hovered inches from the prince's throat.
"Don't." Cassian rasped.
Elias ignored him. He was a second-year minor noble. He had no right to touch a Thalorin.
He did it anyway.
The moment his calloused fingertips met the prince's skin, Elias knew then. It wasn't like touching a human or a parasitic plant. It felt like it was made to feed on the prince's magic personally.
'The Gilded Ivy.'
It felt Elias's magic—the quiet, steady hum of the Thornbloom lineage—and it lunged toward him through the Prince's veins.
Elias's silver eyes went wide.
He felt the parasite's intent. It wanted to consume. It wanted to turn the prince's heart into a seed pod.
'Quiet.' Elias thought.
He projected the word it into the soil under his knees, through the roots of the snapping ferns, and back into the prince's skin.
'Be still.'
He pushed his magic into the golden glow.
He channeled the cold, stagnant water of the conservatory's reservoir. He poured amount of cold needed for a winter orchard into the prince's burning blood.
Slowly, the golden pulse began to stutter.
Cassian's body went limp. The rigid tension in his spine snapped. He slumped forward, his forehead landing heavily on Elias's shoulder. The prince's white hair was damp with sweat.
Silence.
The only sound was the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of a leaky valve in the back of the greenhouse.
Elias stayed still. He was terrified to breathe. He was a background student from a fallen house, holding the future of the kingdom in his arms. The prince was heavy. He felt cold now, the fever of the curse replaced by a deathly chill.
A sudden, violent movement broke the spell.
Cassian scrambled backward. He recoiled. He hit the potting bench so hard that a tray of terracotta pots shattered on the floor. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.
He stared at Elias. His red eyes were no longer clouded with pain. They were sharp. They were lethal.
"Who are you?" Cassian breathed. His voice was a whip.
Elias didn't stand. He stayed on his knees, his hands resting in the dirt. He felt the grime under his fingernails. It made him feel safe. If the prince tried anything he could at least grow something and try to fight back. Not that it would help though.
"Elias Thornbloom. Second year."
"Thornbloom." Cassian spat. He reached for his own collar, frantically pulling the purple silk of his uniform tight against his neck. He was checking to see if the vines were still visible. He was checking to see how much Elias had seen.
"You're a week late." Cassian said.
How he knew that Elias didn't know. Nor did he want to know.
Cassian's breathing was still jagged, but his royal mask was sliding back into place. His features were hardening back into the rumored cold, perfect marble of the Thalorin line.
"Why are you in Greenhouse 4?"
"The plants." Elias answered softly. He didn't look the prince in the eye. He looked at the shattered pots. "They need tending. Nobody else comes here."
"Good." Cassian stood. His knees buckled for a split second, a flicker of weakness that made his jaw tighten with rage. He straightened his cape. He looked down at Elias with a terrifying intensity.
"Listen to me, Thornbloom. You saw nothing."
Elias finally looked up. His silver eyes were steady, reflecting the pale light filtering through the glass roof.
"You're dying." He said. That was a dumb thing to say but he's going to say it all anyway.
The prince froze. The air in the greenhouse seemed to drop ten degrees.
"The Gilded Ivy." Elias continued. He didn't fear the prince's anger. He feared the hunger of the plant he had just touched.
He looked down and played with the soil as he continued "It's rooted in your sternum. It's feeding on your magic. If I hadn't stepped in, it would have burst through your throat."
Cassian moved with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a dying man. He was across the space in a heartbeat, his hand gripping the front of Elias's stained tunic. He hoisted him up until Elias was on his toes.
"You will be silent." Cassian hissed. His face was inches from Elias's. Up close, the prince was beautiful— edged bones, pale skin, and eyes like glistering red eyes.
"If anybody… my father. My brother. If they hear even a whisper of a 'curse,' you won't live to see the winter harvest."
Elias didn't flinch. He didn't have the energy for fear. The soothing magic had drained him.
"You suspect your brother is the one who planted the seeds." Everybody in whole of Oakland knew who the favorite son was. They had all heard of the rivalry between the half brothers.
Cassian's grip tightened. For a moment, Elias thought the prince might actually kill him. Then, the strength left Cassian's fingers. He released Elias, stepping back as if he had been burned.
The prince turned away. He stared at a row of glowing fungi, his shoulders hunched.
The silence stretched.
Outside the glass, the sun was beginning to dip below the obsidian cliffs, casting long shadows across the gardens.
"He is the favorite." Cassian said. His voice was hollow. "Efficiency. That is all the King cares about. A crown prince who cannot control his own blood is not efficient. He is a liability."
"I can help you." Elias said.
Cassian laughed. It was a dry, sound. "A second-year gardener? You think you can cure a curse from the Old World? I have seen the best of the best plant mages."
"I can't cure it." Elias admitted. "Not yet. But I can soothe it. I can make it sleep."
The prince turned back to him. His expression was unreadable.
He looked at Elias—really looked at him—for the first time. He saw the green hair, messy and flecked with mulch. He saw the silver eyes and long lashes. He saw the beauty that Elias tried so hard to bury.
"Why?" Cassian asked. "What do you want, Thornbloom? Gold? A title? A restoration of your family name to high society?"
"I want to be left alone." Elias said. "I want to finish my year and go back to my grandmother. I want my family name to be respected again and I'm slowly working on it. If you die in my greenhouse, the investigations will never end. I'll never go home."
It was a lie, partially.
Elias didn't know why he was helping. Perhaps it was the way the plants had screamed when the golden light touched them. Or perhaps it was the look of pure, isolated terror in the prince's eyes.
Cassian stepped closer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy signet ring. He didn't hand it to Elias. He simply showed it to him.
"If you speak of this, I will destroy your family's name." Cassian said. It wasn't a threat; it was a statement of fact.
"But if you keep me alive... if you can manage this 'itch' until I ascend... I will ensure your grandmother's orchards never see a dry season again."
A pact.
Elias nodded. "Here. Every evening after the bell. Don't go to the infirmary. They'll report you."
Cassian didn't say thank you.
He didn't even acknowledge the offer. He simply turned and walked toward the door. He moved with a stiff, formal grace, hiding the fact that he was still trembling.
The heavy glass door creaked open and shut.
Elias was alone again.
He sank back onto the potting bench. The transition back to solitude was very much welcomed by him.
He looked down at his hands. They were still shaking. He could still feel the phantom heat of the Gilded Ivy pulsing against his palms.
He had just made a deal with a dying king. The plant will definitely search for what soothed it today and wouldn't rest till it had Eliasdo something. It was now his curse too as much as the prince's. Now they both have something to hide. If the academy finds out Elias is "carrying" a piece of the royal curse, he'll be in just as much danger as Cassian.
Elias stood up. He had work to do. He couldn't go to dinner looking like this.
He walked to the washbasin in the corner, scrubbing the mulch and the Prince's sweat from his skin.
By the time he left the greenhouse, the moon was rising over Ravenholm. The transition from the humid garden to the cold night air was a bit too much for him.
He walked toward the dormitories, doing his best to stay invisible as always.
He passed groups of students whispering about the prince's arrival. They talked about his white hair. They talked about his power.
None of them knew.
Elias reached his room and collapsed onto the bed. He didn't even take off his boots. He closed his eyes, thinking of his grandmother's garden. He tried to remember the smell of lavender.
As Elias drifted into a restless sleep, he felt a faint, golden itch in the center of his own palm.