***

In the end, lunch did prove nutritious, even if not served in the usual quantities Lawrence was used to. He still needed to seriously consider stocking up on non-perishable foods, just in case. Ali’s help during dinner had been invaluable. As of now, Lawrence was capable of dining with kings and queens without making basic etiquette mistakes.

Marius Vassier had warned him about the complicated layout of the place, so Lawrence took out his drawing pencils and utensils. He’d make a map for himself and mark places of interest, such as the door with the white oak. Ali said it had to be an exit into the garden, but Lawrence wanted to check on his own.

Another map he’d start creating would display the relationships at Veridien. The Golden Circle, which included Bastien and Anton, interested him the most. Ali was a free agent, apparently.

The problem still remained. Where would he hide his illicit study materials while away from his room?

His careful perusal of his room had been interrupted earlier by Ali, but his new friend was now reluctantly attending the rest of his lessons for the day, so he was finally alone. First things first, he needed to identify multiple hiding places. With unhurried moves, Lawrence began feeling along the wooden paneling covering the walls until one gave slightly under his fingers. The space gained this way was large enough to stash his sketches.

Next, he explored the old armoire at length. Even if he discovered that the thing had a fake bottom, he wouldn’t use a space that was most likely known to the staff. Since students were forbidden to do their own laundry – Ali had been quite adamant on the topic – Lawrence couldn’t hope that a few dirty undergarments would discourage the chambermaid Herr Becker would send to take care of the new transfer’s room.

But the armoire had buckled slightly over time, which caused it not to sit perfectly flush against the wall. That made for another great hiding space.

Lawrence checked under the sink. While the pipe housing was as unobtrusive as the academy standards had to allow, a small door could be operated from the outside for plumping work. However, he didn’t consider this place a good option; if a pipe broke, his notes would be destroyed, and questions would arise.

What he didn’t write down, he’d remember. It wasn’t an easy feat; teachers and other grownups had always shown how impressed they were with Lawrence’s ability to recall more than the average student, but the trouble was that such memories didn’t last long before they fractured. It worked when studying overnight for an exam that was going to take place the next day, but that was all.

He’d have to find a place in the village where he could sit and write down whatever he didn’t manage to write down in his room, due to being too sensitive in nature.

Other things, of course, would do well with hiding in plain sight.

Since today was still a free day, he’d go on a bit of exploration by himself.

***

Beauty was mandatory at Veridien. Lawrence took in the ornamental bushes that cinched the entrance wall like a belt. Early frost hadn’t yet blighted the red fruit, so it still clung aplenty to the twigs. Lukas’s toxicology report had been clear: no alcohol, no known narcotics, and no identifiable poisons.

However, the forensic pathologist’s notes had made an interesting read – slight inflammation of the throat and signs of mild gastric irritation. The way nutrition was treated at Veridien, like an exact science, made Lawrence believe that the subtext of the state of Lukas’s digestive tract at the time of death needed more looking into. Of course, the mentioned symptoms alone could have various causes. Lukas, stressed by the need to perform academically, could very well have suffered from heartburn.

Lawrence caught a single beady fruit and tore it from its bouquet. Though his knowledge of toxic plants was limited, he did remember distinctly having been warned against eating such things as a child. Slowly, he crushed the fruit between his thumb and forefinger. Past its ripeness, it seemed, yet it still left a vague burning sensation on Lawrence’s skin.

“Mezereon,” someone said right behind him, making him turn.

People at Veridien clearly knew how to sneak up on others. Lawrence would swear Bastien hadn’t made a single noise while drawing near.

“Does anyone take attendance at this school?” he asked, opting for a harsh opening to prevent himself from falling prey to the attractive young man’s spell once more.

Bastien smiled. Lawrence avoided his eyes but then remembered his manners – and the purpose of his investigation. “Sorry,” he said, stretching out his arm. “We haven’t properly met. I’m Lawrence. Lawrence Garth.”

Bastien’s smile turned into a grin. He took Lawrence’s hand, but not to shake it; he cradled it in his and then removed a handkerchief from the pocket of his uniform jacket. Slowly, he began wiping Lawrence’s fingers. “You should be careful. If you get any of that in your mouth, you might not have a good time.”

Right. Lawrence had been about to wipe his fingers when Bastien had caught him unawares.

“What did you call it?” he asked.

Bastien raised his eyes. He looked at Lawrence from below, his eyes clear and passionless. “Mezereon,” he repeated. “Ingestion leads to poisoning. Not fatal if treated in time, of course.”

“Is it such a good idea to have it growing everywhere around here then?” Lawrence asked.

Bastien shrugged. “Its flowers are beautiful. Its fruits, the same. And all its parts are poisonous. I suppose Veridien enjoys a good metaphor.”

“And what metaphor does an ornamental shrub offer?” Lawrence questioned. His fingers were clean, but Bastien didn’t let go of his hand. He didn’t pull it away, either. Bastien’s hands were warm and dry.

“Look but don’t touch.” Bastien angled his head, giving Lawrence a sheepish smile. “Proceed at your own peril. Hmm, let me think… what else?”

“Be careful what you eat?” Lawrence volunteered.

Bastien laughed, throwing his head back in that graceful, carefree manner Lawrence had noticed during lunch. But that wasn’t the real Bastien; he had seen a truer version of him that morning. Lawrence doubted Bastien had wanted it to be seen at all.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said. “About this morning.”

Bastien’s laugh died down. “Why not?”

A disarming question required a disarming answer.

“I don’t think you’d want people to believe you associate with me.”

Bastien released Lawrence’s hand only to move closer and invade his space. “You’re a bad liar, Sir Galahad.”

Lawrence didn’t dare to take a step back. That put him in a vulnerable position, but he needed to endure it. Not only he had no choice but to stare into Bastien’s eyes from up close, but he could smell the scent of his skin, witness the softness of his lips, and understand that powerful spells worked only because the bewitched allowed them to.

“Is this some sort of initiation?”

Bastien stopped. “I am not bullying you, knight-errant.”

“Are you sure? I’m about to fall over a shrub of toxic fruits and meet my end.”

“So dramatic.” Bastien chuckled. Good, a joke told at the right time worked wonders. “Let’s meet later. We don’t often get new people, so all my friends want to make your acquaintance.”

“Now who’s a bad liar? I know at least one who doesn’t.”

“Anton? He’s a lamb,” Bastien drawled playfully. “And you’re a bear,” he said, slapping Lawrence’s upper arms with the energy of a military commander assessing his troops. “Bears don’t fear lambs, do they?”

“Don’t let my imposing figure fool you. I am civilized,” Lawrence continued in the same vein, encouraged by Bastien’s attitude.

“Oh, you are? That’s too bad,” Bastien joked. “I was counting on you being untamed by the norms of society. It gets so boring to play by the rules all the time.”

“Then I will disappoint you. I am a stickler for rules.”

Bastien chuckled and pressed his forehead lightly against Lawrence’s shoulder before moving away. “I will try not to yawn much during our little get together this evening. Come to the library. Eight o’clock sharp.”

He began walking away. Lawrence wished he could keep him a little longer. “What should I bring?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Your lovely self will suffice,” Bastien threw over his shoulder. Then, he turned and walked backward for a bit, smiling and giving Lawrence a once-over that felt like a physical touch.

TBC