Page 13 of This Vicious Hunger
“Thora…?”
“What?”
“I asked if you’re all right.” Leonardo’s brows furrow. “You came barrelling out in such a hurry, I thought something had happened.”
“Oh.” I let out a rattled laugh. “No, I’m sorry for rushing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today but I was in a world of my own. I’m fine—though I didn’t sleep well. I have my tutorial this afternoon.”
“Ah.” Leonardo maintains his distance, but when I step out of the direct sunlight and into the thick shadows under the trees, he follows. I wonder if he’s got a lecture in La Scienza, if that’s why he’s here, or if he just makes a habit of frequenting all my usual haunts. A few days ago, yesterday even, this might have made mewary, but after my dreams—and after seeing that girl in the garden last night, so alone, solonely—I realise with a jolt that there might be worse things than encouraging Leonardo’s acquaintanceship. “It’s your first one?”
“I’m terrified,” I say. Only as I say it do I realise how true it is. Dr. Petaccia scares me more than I’d like to admit. I actually think I’d be less afraid if she was a man.
“Don’t be,” he says warmly. “You’ll be fine. She’s not going to expect you to know everything already. That’s why she’s teaching you.”
“No, I know, it’s just…” I shrug. “There’s a lot riding on it. I’ve wanted this my whole life. You probably don’t know what that’s like—sorry, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just… I never thought I’d get to be here. What if I’m not clever enough?”
Leonardo is silent for a moment, genuinely thoughtful—and seemingly not offended by my lack of tact. Then he says, “I’m sure Dr. Petaccia knows how you feel. Nobody makes… Well, excuse the presumption, but nobody makes the kind of commitments you, and she, have made without knowing the cost. I know being a—a lady in the sciences isn’t easy. Regardless of what brought you here, and when, you’re here now.”
My heart swells. “You don’t have to be nice to me. I was rude just now, and I was rude yesterday too. I regret both times. I’m… I guess you could say it’s been a while since I had anybody new to talk to.”
“Oh,” Leonardo says breezily, his smirk cutting through any tension between us. “Don’t worry, Botany Lady. I won’t take it personally.”
“You probably shouldn’t. It’s a little-known fact that undertakers’ daughters don’t get out much.” I know I’m slicing off thethree months of my marriage as if they’re the tip of a candle wick but I don’t care.
Leonardo’s smirk softens. “Like botanists,” he agrees.
“Worse. My only companions growing up were the dead.”
“I grew up with five sisters. Nobody ever paid me any mind, so my friends were pretty much all plants. At least yoursusedto talk.”
I can’t help the chuckle that burbles in my chest as I picture a pint-sized Leonardo surrounded by potted plants wearing hats and spectacles and little pencil moustaches.
“So… At risk of getting my head bitten off again—have you changed your mind about dinner?” Leonardo raises an eyebrow. “Or coffee. If we’re going to have classes together it might be useful for studying. Almerto always says I don’t participate enough. We could do tonight if you wanted, chat about your tutorial. Like I said before: there’s a place I know off campus—”
“Not off campus,” I say firmly. “And not tonight.” He winces, but we both know why I have to be so stern. I’m already the odd one out at St. Elianto. I don’t want to give anybody, not least Dr. Petaccia, reason to think I don’t belong here. “But… the dining hall tomorrow evening would be nice.”
“Really…?” Leonardo beams.
“Ifthey’ll let me sit with you. I usually get shoved at the table by—”
“By the window?” He chuckles, his eyes bright with a gratitude of his own, though I don’t think I’m the one being kind here. “Yes, I’m familiar with that one. I suppose it’s just where they put the botanists.”
By the time I set out for my tutorial in La Vita I’m rushing, but I make it with five minutes to spare. The building is just as dim and cool as on my last visit, and all the doors are locked as before—I try them only out of curiosity. I pause for a second outside the upstairs laboratory to catch my breath and push a hand through my slightly sweaty cropped curls; it’s just as warm in here today too.
Inside I’m met with a scene that is almost eerily similar to our first meeting—Petaccia at the desk with a pen in her gloved hand and papers scattered before her, and that diseased-looking vine crawling beneath her empty hand as she… what, pets it?
I close the door behind me.
“You’re late.” Petaccia glances up from her work, a frown furrowing her otherwise creaseless skin.
“I—”
“Well, no mind. You’re here, which is something. Now, come and make yourself useful, will you? This little beast has been making my life hell.”
“I’m… sorry?”
“Thevinea, the liana. I call herParuulum arida, though in truth she’s more of a bastard trumpet creeper. Come and hold her for me while I finish up these notes, and then we’ll get started.”
“Oh,” I say, and drop my notebooks onto an empty wooden stool. Petaccia shifts the vine from her fingers and I could swear it wriggles in response.
