“She turned them down.” Jolin’s shoulders sagged with the weight she must have carried with her every day of her life, living under the shadow of her mother’s accomplishments. “It was offered to her even though she’s rabid mad, while I create one wonder after another, and it’s never enough.” She wiped her face, smearing soil across her forehead. “And now you know why I don’t mention it.”
No wonder Jolin didn’t think writing a book at thirteen was much of an accomplishment. “I’m sorry,” Lilette said.
“Fetch the notes, will you?” Jolin asked Doranna. “We’ll start crossbreeding the plants immediately.” After Doranna had left the glass garden, Jolin fixed moist eyes on Lilette. “I’m not my mother. I never will be.”
Lilette tilted her head to one side. “Why would you want to be?”
Jolin grunted, but her bearing seemed lighter. “Help us crossbreed some of these plants, and then you better report for classes.”
Lilette stepped up beside her. “What exactly are you doing?”
Jolin watered the seeds her mother had pointed out. “The only reason I went to Harshen was to gather new seeds. There are entire volumes of recorded data on plants mixed with other plants to create potions, but almost nothing on plants mixed with the components of metal and stone.”
Lilette raised an eyebrow. “What good does it do to mix potions with rocks?”
“That’s just it!” Jolin waved her hand in the air, the quill swishing through the air. “No one knows. Imagine if you could make an unbreakable sword. Mix certain compounds to create an explosion. What if we could wake up the rocks, so they responded to us like the plants did? We could build entire cities!”
Lilette blinked. “You have dirt on your forehead.”
Jolin didn’t bother rubbing it away. “The point is, we don’t know the possibilities. Anything could happen. It’s so exhilarating!”
Lilette sang until she was hoarse. Doranna carefully categorized the new plants, and then she and Jolin began documenting each plant’s characteristics.
“I won’t need you again until I have my findings,” Jolin told Lilette. “You may as well head to class.”
Unease fluttered in her belly. “I don’t know where to go.”
Doranna rolled her head and rubbed at her neck. “I’ll take her and bring back some lunch.”
Jolin made a sound that could have been construed as agreement.
“Don’t mix those pots up before I have a chance to label them,” Doranna said, then started off without waiting to see if Lilette followed. “The island is quartered into four sections, each one dedicated to one of the elements—earth, water, plants, and light.”
Lilette’s studied her surroundings. “Why are there so many open pavilions? Don’t you worry about the rain?”
Doranna gave her an odd look. “Haven’t you noticed?”
Lilette slowed as she remembered that it only rained at night. “Do the keepers control everything?”
“Everything.” Doranna’s voice was laced with bitterness.
They stopped at a large pavilion covered in fragrant vines. Beneath it were long benches and tables. The smell of fish stew filled the air.
“Have some lunch,” Doranna said. “Then stop at that tree.” She pointed to one not far from where they sat. “They’ll give you your schedule.”
Lilette took a bowl of the stew, which looked like a congealed mess, along with some bread and fruit. She ate quickly. At the tree she received a schedule, and a wastrel who was assigned to take her on a tour. Lilette marveled at the variety of books in the library, and the clear, blue waters of the bathing spring, which was fed by an underground heated pool and a cold waterfall that tumbled off the cliff.
“Where does the water come from?” Lilette asked as she craned her neck to see the top of the cliffs.
The wastrel smiled. “Bethel made it—the water comes from inside the cliffs somehow.”
Sash had bathed in that pool, walked these paths, studied in these pavilions. Lilette had longed to come to Haven her entire life. But she would give it all up again to make her sister safe.
She was shown where her classes were—trees or pavilions filled to the brim with girls, all younger than Lilette. Her schedule included Potions, Earth Studies, Singing, and even a class on politics. Lilette balked at that one. “Why do I need to learn the finer points of politics?”
“Class schedules are catered to a witch’s potential,” the wastrel answered.
“What about what I want?”
“Apprentices have more choices.”