Rowana walked like someone who already knew where she was going.

  “When its time to pick you’ll want the left corridor,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. “The right one smells like boiled feathers, and it never goes away.”

  Lysara matched her pace. “Why?”

  “No one knows” Rowana shrugged.

  After class they fell into step easily, the morning air cool and faintly herbal as they neared the Apothecary Wing. Unlike Alchemy, this building smelled alive—dried roots, crushed leaves, something bitter steeping somewhere out of sight.

  “You don’t talk much”.

  “I do, selectively.”

  Rowana snorted. “I failed my first attempt because I talked during a physical assessment.”

  “How?”

  “I explained why the test was poorly designed.”

  “That seems reasonable.”

  “They disagreed.”

  Inside the classroom, benches curved inward around a central preparation table already set with trays of plant matter. Lysara chose a seat near the middle this time. Rowana sat beside her without comment.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  The instructor entered briskly, sleeves rolled, eyes sharp with practiced efficiency.

  “Apothecary is not alchemy’s softer cousin,” they said without preamble. “If you’re here to wave your hands and hope plants cooperate, you’re in the wrong room.”

  Rowana leaned closer. “I already like them.”

  “Miss,” the instructor said, not looking up, “if you have commentary, save it for after class.”

  Rowana straightened instantly. “Yes, Professor.”

  A few students hid smiles.

  The lesson moved quickly—identification, preparation, contraindications. Lysara’s hand moved almost on its own as she took notes, recognizing techniques Valos had drilled into her long before theory had names.

  “Tell me,” the instructor said suddenly, stopping beside her bench, “why you would not combine those two.”

  Lysara didn’t hesitate. “They bind heat differently. Together they overstimulate circulation and destabilize the base.”

  The instructor studied her. Then nodded once.

  “Good. You have a foundation.”

  Rowana glanced at her sideways. “Show-off.”

  The instructor moved on, already losing interest now that the answer had been confirmed.

  Rowana leaned back in her seat. “You’re going to ruin my reputation as the competent one.”

  Lysara allowed herself a small smile. “You talk too much.”

  “True,” Rowana said cheerfully. “But at least I don’t poison people by accident.”

  “Yet.”

  Rowana grinned. “Give it time.”

  As the class continued, Lysara felt settled. Here at least she resonated. Plants behaved. They responded to care, attention, and restraint.

  When the bell rang, Rowana gathered her things and stood.

  “Same seat tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Lysara said, surprised by how easy the answer was.

  They left together, the smell of herbs clinging to them as the corridor swallowed their voices.