It’s #BookQW and Cor gets a ‘lift’ he doesn’t expect.
More from Chapter 1:
In September—three weeks from now—Cor’s parents would return from their summer’s travel for the Gruen Foundation, and their family would be off again. Autumn in the States. The winter in Costa Rica. Spring somewhere else he’d forgotten after hearing they’d have only a week between in Bonterra. He had presented several internship possibilities—all shot down. Rooting out a winning option during the conference would be his final hope before he was dragged off.
He hit a path and kept to certain slates that weren’t warded. The trees became smaller and more ornamental closer to the manor house. A few lights lit the inside, but the conservatory to the side was dark, as were the windows of the old cook’s cottage, both the main floor and his aunt’s bedroom window upstairs.
“Nice evening for a walk,” said a deep voice.
Cor stumbled. A frantic flap of wings lifted him, and at the last second, he landed on the wrong stone—
Lights flared to life, freezing him like a deer.
Beyond them, in the dark, someone sighed. “My mistake,” the man said. “Cancel the alert.”
“Got it, Master Harold,” came the guard’s voice over the radio.
The lights cut off, but their damage was done; Cor was now night blind. And caught, blast it! In his personal scoring system, he had to make it to his room across from Aunt Syl’s or the success of sneaking out and in again wasn’t credited. He blinked and raked up the curls over his head, checking they weren’t flattened or had stuck leaves to reveal his activities.
“And a nice night for riding, I suppose,” Master Harold added with an amber-lit gesture to Cor’s board.
“True,” he agreed warily. The head gardener had hired him to water in the greenhouses and garden beds. For someone so old, Harold kept terrible hours.
“Have something for you, if you have a minute.” Master Harold pivoted through the open conservatory door, casting a dim light around his large frame. His bald head glinted like richly polished chestnuts, and he wore his usual evening attire, a monklike robe that he said was most comfortable after a day of dirty work in the gardens and greenhouse. Master Harold wasn’t frowning, or even remotely angry, but his full cheeks were lifted in an annoying, knowing smile within his neat, sycamore-bark-silver beard.
Cor sucked his teeth, a sound the old man had told him came across as bad as back talk and recommended he not do it. Cor couldn’t seem to break the habit. “I do,” he said quickly to try to smooth things over—Master Harold hadn’t reported him—and picked his way across the path on the correct stones.
“Still would like to know how you learned so quickly which to use,” Master Harold said.
Cor doubted the truth would be accepted—the tree roots had shown him. Harold preferred the botanical rather than the magical side of plant growth, ironically, since the Gruen Foundation focused on increasing tree energy. Instead, Cor dug a handful of beechnuts from his pocket that he’d scavenged from the leaf litter. “More to start tomorrow. Copper beech.”
Master Harold dipped his bald head approvingly before taking the main walkway through the conservatory. Cor closed the door behind them—the moisture still felt correct, so Master Harold hadn’t had it open long—and propped his board against it, then followed. The air was scented with orchids, the rich humus of the soil and something new tonight.
“Delivery?”
Master Harold cast him another glance. “After you left. The dozen juniper bonsai starts we ordered.”
“You want me to pot them up?”
“I said I had something for you, not a chore. Which reminds me.” The older man paused at the bed where Cor had been working that afternoon and pointed. “Forget something?”
No…he’d finished transplanting the orchids and put away the pots. To be certain, he stepped closer. Something twinkled green in the dark.
Leafbringer.
Cor groaned. He reached, flowing gold magic to his fingers, and the broadsword wiggled in the ground where he’d stuck it after using it to take yew cuttings and plant them. The sword rose and sailed lazily to him, not as promptly as it would for his sister, Hazel, but it came. And hilt first.
Harold handed him a rag. “Make sure the soil is out of the engraving and get it back to the armory. Tonight, so I have no questions to answer during the morning’s tours.”
At least Harold didn’t rail at him about getting permission. Leafbringer’s magic invigorated his plants the same as it did for Hazel, so why not use it? With him wiping the weapon, they left the conservatory and approached a door just inside the main house. Master Harold put a hand to it, letting his magic flow unlock it.
The old gas lamp flared as they entered, a combination of a motion detector and magic. Stirring the rich, moist scent, Master Harold waded among dropped tools, gloves and plants on every surface. Some he’d forgotten he was carrying when he returned to his office. Other pots on the broad stone windowsills he was nursing along. Harold plucked an envelope from the fronds of a fern and handed it to him.
Cor glanced at him before tucking Leafbringer under one arm. He broke the seal and lifted the flap. The cream card matched, and above the printing was— He stuffed it back and shoved the lot at his boss. “No, thanks.” Cor strode from the office before he could snatch back the envelope, because an invitation to the Windborne Arboriculture Conference meant everything.
~~~
Read the full chapter on Guardian of the Pines‘ book page.
Buy Guardian of the Pines online!
On a personal note:
We’re in out 9th week of self-quarantine. The days seem to repeat, but we are well so have no complaints. Members of my local Romance Writers chapter are getting together for various zoom write-ins. I’ve joined up and am making progress on my WIP, and enjoying the outside contact.
It’s winter in the story I’m writing now, Duffy’s story if you are a Windborne series reader, which makes a funny contrast to the bright spring leaves outside my window. I might be one of the few people looking forward to the predicted rain at the end of the week to help with the story’s mood!
Hope you are all well!
Laurel
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