The east greenhouse felt different in the late afternoon light.
Warmer air trapped under the glass panels carried the sharp green scent of cut stems and turned soil.
Lucien arrived a few minutes early, the finished resonance report tucked safely in his satchel like a small victory he wasn’t quite ready to celebrate.
Cecilia was already there, sleeves rolled up, carefully arranging tools on the workbench.
She looked up when he approached, a smudge of dirt on her cheek that she hadn’t noticed yet.
“You actually came,” she said, sounding surprised and pleased at the same time.
“I brought extra gloves.
The new strain has thorns that are extra… enthusiastic.”
Lucien set his bag down and took the gloves.
They were slightly too big but better than nothing.
“Enthusiastic.
Nice way to say they try to stab you.”
Cecilia laughed, the sound bright against the quiet hum of the greenhouse.
She fidgeted with a pair of shears, opening and closing them a few times before setting them down.
“Pretty much.
Professor Lirien keeps saying it builds resilience.
I think she just likes watching us learn the hard way.”
They started working on the grafts without much preamble.
Cecilia explained the new hybrid in quick, eager sentences, occasionally trailing off when she got distracted by adjusting a leaf or checking the soil moisture.
Lucien listened, asking questions when something didn’t make sense.
His shadows cooperated today, holding the delicate stems steady while she applied the binding paste.
The work felt satisfying in its simplicity.
No audience.
No expectations beyond getting the alignment right.
At one point Cecilia’s shears slipped, nicking her finger.
“Ow.
Every time.
I swear these things have a mind of their own.”
Lucien offered the neutralizer vial from his own bag without thinking.
“Here.
Before it starts itching.”
She took it with a grateful nod, applying it carefully.
The silence that followed felt comfortable rather than awkward.
They kept working.
The greenhouse grew warmer as the sun shifted, beads of condensation forming on the glass above them and occasionally dripping onto the workbench with soft plinks.
Cecilia broke the quiet after a while.
“You seem different from what people say about your family.
Not in a bad way.
Just… calmer.
Most Nightshades I’ve met act like the whole academy is a battlefield.”
Lucien aligned another graft, shadows steady around the join.
“Maybe I’m tired of fighting battles that don’t need fighting.”
The answer came out simpler than he’d intended.
Cecilia considered it, then nodded like it made sense.
She didn’t press for more.
They finished the last of the grafts in companionable silence, the work taking on a rhythm that felt almost meditative.
When they were done, Cecilia stepped back to admire the tray, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Not bad,” she said.
“Better than my last solo attempt.
The shadows really help with the stability.”
Lucien flexed his fingers.
“Team effort.”
They cleaned up the workbench together.
Cecilia chattered about her next experiment as they worked, the words tumbling over each other when she got excited.
Lucien found himself smiling at some of the more ridiculous details.
The afternoon slipped away easier than most had lately.
As they left the greenhouse, the cooler outside air felt refreshing against his skin.
Students passed them in small groups, some heading to evening practice, others complaining loudly about upcoming exams.
No one paid them particular mind.
Just two students walking the same path.
Cecilia stopped near the split in the path toward the dorms.
“Same time next week?
If you’re not busy with… whatever else you have going on.”
Lucien nodded.
“I’ll be there.”
She smiled, adjusted her basket of clippings, and headed off with a small wave.
Lucien watched her go for a moment before turning toward his own dorm.
The report weighed lightly in his satchel now.
Tomorrow he’d turn it in.
Deal with the lost points.
Move on.
The path curved past a group of third-years practicing lines for some upcoming presentation.
One of them stumbled over a word and the others teased him mercilessly.
Lucien kept walking, the sound of their laughter following him for a short distance before fading into the general evening noise of the academy.
He reached the dorms as the light began to fade, the day’s small tasks settling into place like pieces of a larger puzzle he was still learning how to see clearly.