Page 8 of Evergreen

For a moment, I thought he might argue with me about the nickname. But then something shifted in his expression, and he just nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “When do we start?”

“Right now,” I said, gesturing to the wreckage around us. “Some of the plants are still alive. But they need to be protected. So the first thing we’re going to do is erect a semi-permanent barrier just outside the walls of the conservatory to keep it climate controlled. After that we’ll begin cleanup. By hand.”

I watched as Cass looked around the greenhouse, taking in the full scope of what we were about to undertake. His jaw clenched, and I could see the moment reality hit him. This wasn’t just a punishment. This was months of grueling, physical labor.

“By hand,” he repeated, his voice hollow.

“By hand,” I confirmed. “There are several plants under the debris that will need to be very carefully excavated. If we use magic to do it, they might be damaged.”

“Can’t you just…” He shrugged. “Get new plants?”

I stared at him for a long moment. Clearly he knew nothing about the conservatory.

“Some of the species here are the only ones of their kind. They are living, breathing creatures that deserve our respect. It’s our duty to take care of them, even if it requires hard labor and dirty hands.”

Cass let out a scoff. “If you say so…”

I chose to let that go. He’d learn in time. “My magic works with living things. Plants, soil, earth. But I can’t rebuild structures. That’s all you. Well, you and whatever magic you’ve got that doesn’t involve calling down acts of god on campus.”

He flinched again at that, and I felt a small twinge of satisfaction. Not enough to make me cruel, but enough to let him know I wasn’t going to pretend this was fine or put up with his irritation.

“I don’t really know any magic besides weather magic,” he admitted, his eyes fixed on a pile of twisted metal that had once been part of the greenhouse frame. “And the Dean told me I can’t do that anymore.”

“Then I guess you’re going to learn,” I said, moving toward the northern section of the greenhouse where my blue moonflowers had been. “Come on. First, we need to assess what’s salvageable. And then we’re going to put up the barrier.”

He followed me, his footsteps crunching through the ash and debris. I could feel him watching me as I knelt down beside a charred planter, my hands already glowing with that soft golden light that meant my dryad magic was activated.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking if they’re still alive,” I said, running my fingers gently over the blackened soil. Beneath my touch, I could feel the faintest pulse of life. The roots were still there. The seeds were still viable. “This one survived. Barely, but it’s alive. But this January cold is going to kill it if we don’t get that barrier up this morning.”

“Do you know the spell for it?” he asked, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t know anything like that.”

“You didn’t take Professor Blackwood’s Practical Spellwork course yet? I thought they required all freshmen to take it?”

His brows furrowed in irritation. “I took it,” he growled. “I just… I don’t remember it all.”

“Well, you’re going to remember it now,” I said, standing up and brushing the ash from my hands. “Because we need it, and you’re the only one here who can cast it.”

I could see the frustration building in his expression, the way his jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists. Part of me wanted to feel bad about pushing him, but I didn’t. He’d burned down the conservatory. The least he could do was learn a spell he’d already been taught in a basics course.

“Look,” I said, my tone softening slightly. “I get it. You’re hung over, you’re tired, and you’d probably rather be anywhere else right now. But these plants don’t have time for your attitude. So either you figure out how to cast the barrier spell, or they die. Your choice.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and I watched as something shifted behind his eyes. It was like watching someone come to a decision they didn’t particularly like but knew they had to make, anyway.

“Okay,” he said finally. “What do I need to do?”

I walked him through the basics. I knew the words of the incantation, the hand gestures, and the way you had to feel for the magic in the air and guide it into the specific shape you needed. It took him three tries before he got it right, and by the time the shimmering barrier materialized around the greenhouse, I could see the sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold.

“There,” I said, nodding in approval. “That’ll keep the temperature stable and protect the plants from the worst of the cold. It won’t last forever. Maybe a week or two. But it’ll buy us time. And you can always cast it again.”

Cass stood there, breathing heavily, looking like he’d just run a marathon. I felt a small spark of something that might have been sympathy. Weather magic probably came naturally to him. Having to learn something else, something that didn’t come easy, was probably a new experience.

“Now what?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Now we start digging,” I said, gesturing to the debris field. “Carefully. There are plants under all of this, and we need to get them out without crushing them. I’ll tell you where to dig, and you clear the ash and rubble. When we get close to the actual plants, we switch to hand tools only. No magic. No shortcuts.”