“I came here with my friend Alice, but we had a bit of a rocky start.”

Patricia nods sagely. “Common for students who room with friends from high school. Many find that the new environment challenges old relationships.”

“That’s an understatement. I’ve met a few people in classes and events.”

Oh, you know, events like secret feudal rituals.

“Tell me about Alice.”

How rude would it be to tell her the only reason I’m here is to find out what she knows?

“We’ve been best friends since we were little. We applied to EC together. We went off campus to this thing at the Eno Quarry, which I assume you know about, and we got in trouble. We fought about it. Did the silent treatment thing, but I think we made up last night. Mostly. I’m still kinda pissed that she called my dad, but I sort of get it.”

Patricia’s eyebrows have raised a fraction. “Were you aware it was against the rules to go to the Quarry?”

Something occurs to me, and I sit up straight. “Does my dad get reports on what we talk about here?”

She shakes her head. “Everything is confidential. Unless you express a desire to harm yourself or others, or describe abuse, either past or ongoing. In those cases, I’m required to file a report with university police.”

“Hm,” I say. “In that case, yeah. I knew it was against the rules.”

“Did that give you pause?”

“Not at the time.”

“You went anyway. Why is that, do you think?”

“I was upset. I just wanted to go somewhere. Do something.”

“What type of something?”

Even though I don’t want to answer, I think about the restlessness I’d felt at the cliffside before Sel found me. The pressure under my skin. The desire to explode.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Patricia doesn’t believe me. She reminds me of my mother in that way. There was a reason I went behind her back to apply to Carolina. If I’d asked and she’d said no, she’d have read the defiance on my face. “Let’s shift gears.”

“Fine by me.”

“I’d like to talk about your mother.”

An eager sort of panic flutters in my stomach, at the back of my throat. “My dad said you knew her?”

“I did,” she says warmly. “Not well. But I liked her very much.”

Suddenly, swallowing is hard. I thought I’d wanted her to talk about my mother. Why does it feel bad now that she is? “Oh.”

“Do you know why I asked to meet you here, Bree?”

Her question takes me by surprise. “No, not really. Is this a trick question?”

Apparently, my answer takes Patricia by surprise, because she blinks and sits back.

“These gardens are abundant with root energy. Are you not a Wildcrafter like your mother?”

19

SHOCK, FEAR, HOPE—EMOTIONS war in my belly. “What’s a Wildcrafter?”