The Herbology lecture hall smelled faintly bitter. Beneath it all was the sharper scent of crushed bark and freshly ground stems.
Rows of wooden desks curved around a central platform in a half-circle, giving every scholar a clear view of the man standing at the front.
Instructor Howard, draped in robes the color of pine needles, blended into the towering wall of hand-painted botanical charts behind him.
Ruvian sat somewhere in the middle, arms sprawled across the desk. Corwin, by contrast, was sitting up perfectly straight, both hands poised to scribble notes.
'Seems like he's doing alright.'
Ruvian glanced at him and allowed himself the faintest smirk, then turned his attention back to the front as Instructor Howard reached for the display table.
Several glass containers sat neatly arranged, each one housing a different herb — some brittle, some gray, and others floating.
