Chapter 4 - The Royal Decree and the Iron Gate
Two weeks later, the limestone courtyards of Harrigate Academy were buried under a crisp blanket of autumn frost. The student body buzzed with an entirely new kind of gossip—not the whispered rumors of royal infatuation, but the shocking, unprecedented announcement posted on the Great Hall notice board: The Crown, in partnership with the Academy's Department of Toxicology, was establishing the First Royal Research Institute of Applied Botany, to be entirely directed and overseen by Josette Carwyn, Third-Year Scholar.
Inside her newly assigned private workshop—a massive, high-ceilinged stone chamber overlooking the northern valley—Josette stood on a wooden stepladder, pinning a fresh botanical chart to the wall.
The door opened without a knock, and Pippa bounced into the room carrying a massive stack of parchment rolls and a bottle of celebratory plum wine.
"The royal seal arrived this morning," Pippa announced, dropping the parchment onto a pristine mahogany desk that still smelled faintly of fresh varnish. "Complete autonomy, unlimited access to the northern mountain flora, and a staff of twelve junior assistants who are strictly forbidden from touching your alembics without written permission. You’ve basically become a sovereign entity within the academic hierarchy."
Josette climbed down the ladder, wiping a smudge of charcoal from her cheek, and smiled faintly. "It’s a functional mandate, Pippa. Not a coronation."
"Call it whatever you like, but the King spent three hours yesterday arguing with the Minister of Finance to triple your equipment budget," Pippa grinned wickedly, uncorking the plum wine with a satisfying pop. "And speaking of the King—he’s currently waiting outside the courtyard gates with three carriage loads of rare alpine nightshade specimens he had shipped in from the southern peaks."
Josette groaned softly, though she couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "He was supposed to be reviewing border treaties in the capital today."
"Borders can wait," a deep, familiar voice rumbled from the doorway.
Lachlan stepped into the laboratory, wearing a travel-worn leather riding coat dusted with frost. He looked tired, but the moment his eyes landed on Josette standing among her notebooks and drying racks, his expression softened into something warm and entirely unguarded.
Pippa quickly raised her glass in a mocking salute. "I’ll leave you two to discuss 'botanical specimens.' I have an urgent appointment to inspect the wine cellars." She slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
Lachlan walked across the spacious room, stopping just an arm's length away from Josette. He didn't reach for her immediately, respecting the invisible boundary of independence she had so fiercely guarded.
"Did the southern specimens arrive intact?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with suppressed amusement.
"They arrived," Josette said, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked up at him. "Though I suspect you only sent for them as an excuse to escape your council meetings."
"Guilty as charged," Lachlan admitted without a hint of shame. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, unassuming glass vial filled with a shimmering, bioluminescent liquid that glowed a soft, steady gold. He set it gently on the edge of the desk between them. "I found this in the high crags while inspecting the northern outpost. It reminded me of the night you nearly blew up the herb garden."
Josette stepped closer, her analytical mind instantly taking over as she leaned down to inspect the vial. "This is rare luminescence moss... it only grows where magical discharge has fused with mineral deposits. How did you harvest it without destabilizing the cell structure?"
"I remembered a lecture from a certain stubborn third-year toxicologist about keeping the temperature constant during extraction," Lachlan said softly.
Josette looked up, meeting his gaze. The air between them didn't throw lightning this time; instead, it settled into a warm, steady hum, like a hearth fire burning deep in the stone.
"You're staying for dinner tonight," she stated, not as a question, but as an expectation. "And you are going to help me catalog these specimens properly, without complaining about the smell of valerian root."
May you like
Lachlan smiled, a slow, radiant expression that chased away the last remnants of royal formality. He reached out and gently intertwined his fingers with hers, feeling the steady, matching rhythm of their pulses.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Josette."
