Soulbound by Heather Brewer Page B

across Tril as the leading educational authority on the matter—just as Darkmoon Academy is known for their Healer training and Starlight Academy is known for their weapons craftsmanship.” He took a breath and I thought that the sound of it would go on forever—that horrible, wheezing, nasally noise. It was mind-numbing. Glancing around the room, I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
    “We have been at war for approximately one hundred years, but no one can explain why King Darrek has failed to age in that time. Our scholars can offer no explanation to Darrek’s abnormal youth, but it is important to remember that everything that lives is mortal, including Darrek. Which brings us to your homework assignment.” The entire class groaned, but I knew that the very mention of homework meant the doldrums of class time was about to come to an end. Even freedom had a foreboding kind of ring to it. Mr. Ross took a breath and said, “I want you each to write a thousand-word essay on your personal theory as to why Darrek remains youthful after more than a century of living, due tomorrow.”
    At long last, Mr. Ross bid us good-bye as the class poured out the door. Maddox was waiting for me outside, looking sympathetic, but bemused. I shook my head at her, exhausted. “Why didn’t you warn me the classes would be so boring?”
    “All I know of Healer classes is what I’ve heard from the rumor pool. Is it really that bad?”
    “It’s worse.”
    Maddox walked me across campus to the rose garden, which was way off on the unpopulated side of academy grounds. Far away from the training grounds, just as Darius promised.
    At the far side of the rose gardens, which seemed to stretch on forever—who needed that many roses, anyway?—sata large greenhouse and beside that a small, wooden shack that looked like it had seen better days. An old man was washing each pane of glass in the greenhouse with the care and precision of someone who firmly believed that what he was doing was very important. Maddox patted me on the back. “That’s Mr. Gareth. Don’t worry; he’s much nicer than Instructor Baak. Have fun. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
    She walked away, and I couldn’t help but think about how much it bothered me that she couldn’t just hang around while I worked. I could have used the company. But then, I was kind of pouting about having extra duties. Thank you, Darius.
    Mr. Gareth must have had a sixth sense about someone entering the gardens, because the moment I set foot on the nearest row, he turned and waved me over. He was an old man, that much was clear from a distance, but what wasn’t clear was just how old. He hurried down the ladder as if he were in his thirties, but the wrinkles and crazy eyebrows said he was closer to his seventies, maybe eighties. I smiled politely as I approached and was about to say hello, when he pointed to the shed. “Everything you’ll need to prune and fertilize the roses is in there, miss. I’m afraid we don’t have any gloves lying around, but you look like you can handle a few pokes. Start at the south end, work your way north, row by row. Remove any dead leaves you find and prune any rogue stems—those go in the leaf bags on the otherside of the shed. And don’t forget to mulch the roots.”
    I stared at him for a moment, trying to process all of his instructions. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, so I closed it again and wondered quietly why “we” were all out of gloves if “we” were going to have “our” hands in thorny bushes all day. Mr. Gareth simply smiled and pointed again to the shed. “Go on. Get started.”
    The old shed looked exactly the same on the inside as my imagination had conjured up. Dozens of shelves lined the walls, all filled with various gardening instruments. There was barely room to step inside, thanks to all the spare pots taking up residence on the floor. There wasn’t a single glove in sight, but there were bags of mulch and some