Page 10 of Growing Memories (Valley of Sylveren #2)

Chapter Seven

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Gransen raised his teacup in mock salute before taking a sip, aiming a pointed look at Ollas.

“For?” Ollas asked, already regretting taking the bait.

They’d survived the first week of fall term and had gone down to the Mighty Leaf to relax.

Although Ollas’s stubborn insistence on making use of one of the university’s stable mounts had probably been foolhardy.

Even kept to a walk, the motion of riding had aggravated the tweaked muscles in his back.

“Setting the stage so you can finally make your move. But oof, Olly. Olly. I didn’t realize your path to love was going to be such an uphill battle.”

“Shut up, Granse.” Ollas cast a quick glance around their corner of the Mighty Leaf.

Business was steady, many of the tables filled by an even split of Sylvan locals and university folk in need of new surroundings for their weekend studies.

The buzz of a dozen conversations filled the air, Ollas and Gransen’s no more remarkable than any other. “It’s not uphill.”

“Did Eunny kiss your boo-boo to make it all better? Ruffle your hair and chuck you under the chin?”

Ollas made a rude gesture at him.

Gransen laughed. “So, how’s it going, pining after my boss?”

Wonderful. Horrible. “She’s not your?—”

“It’s an informal agreement. Stop stalling, Nevin.”

Nevin, but not Nev. Which was good; Ollas didn’t want Eunny’s shorthand being appropriated by anyone else.

He bounced between the euphoria of having Eunny around all the time, suffused in her exuberance and sharp wit, and the despair of knowing Eunny’s jokes were just Eunny being herself. A manifestation of her outgoing nature, harmless, good fun. Friendliness, but not flirtation. Not with Ollas.

How long had he nursed his unrequited love?

He’d been intrigued, awed, by her as a kid.

But true attraction, that had grown a little slower.

He’d admired her fierce loyalty. To a shy town boy, seeing a tween outsider, a slip of a girl, get into shouting matches with grown men who dared to hassle her aunt and disparage the Mighty Leaf had blown young Ollas away.

But they’d only been kids. A boy’s infatuation. What of the man?

“It’s— It’s not, I guess. I didn’t know we were even friends until Initiate Two,” Ollas murmured.

“That’s okay. Leave it to Papa Gransen to?—”

“Not a word.” Ollas pointed at him. “Not one?—”

Gransen gave a short, low whistle, his gaze focused on a point behind Ollas’s head. “Look alive, Olly.” He waved, calling out, “Hey, boss!”

Eunny made a face at him as she came over. “We’ve talked about that. You’d have to work for me?—”

“I willingly subject myself to your abuse on a weekly basis.”

“You don’t get paid. You’re not an employee.”

“Oh, Eun, we don’t deal in anything so crass as money.” Gransen dismissed her words with a shrug. “Speaking of, when can I get back in there?”

Eunny rubbed her temples. “I’ve barely had a chance to go through the salvage piles.”

“Let me. I’m the manager, let me manage.” Gransen made a flourish with his hands.

Their argument over duties to Song’s Scrap—real or otherwise—were called to a halt when Eunny’s aunt Yerina came over.

“Hello, Ollas, dear,” she murmured as she hugged him, mindful of his tender arm. “For your mama.” She pressed a small bag of tea into his hand.

Straightening, Yerina looked to her niece. The older woman was usually so warm and cheery, but now, concern dimmed her eyes, and a frown line marred her round face. “Eunny, the new distributor from Central District I’ve been in talks with came up early.”

“That’s fine. I can hang around until you’re done, or I can come back later to—” Eunny squinted at her aunt’s wary expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know that a representative from the Coalition would be coming up with them,” Yerina said.

“Didn’t you just have your check-in with them last…” Eunny’s eyes widened. Then narrowed, her expression going flat. “You mean she’s here.”

Yerina nodded. “Stay, please? It’s been so long.” She gave her niece an imploring look.

Gransen raised his hand. “Who’s she ?”

“Ah, there they are. Yerina, what are you— Oh. This is a surprise.” A short exhale, somewhere between a sigh and a false laugh, sounded behind them. “Gentlemen, I don’t believe you’ve met my daughter, Eunji.”

Even if she’d never spoken, Ollas couldn’t mistake the woman striding toward them as anyone other than Eunny’s mother.

Same athletic build and same oval face with soft features, though Eunny’s chin leaned toward stubborn.

Where Eunny’s dark hair skimmed her shoulders, her mother’s was long, its gentle waves reaching her ribs.

Everything about the woman marked her as someone from Graelynd’s Central District.

Her black cloak bore a glimmer of silk blended with fine wool.

She wore a long black dress as well, the draping fabric tailored to fit.

Her only accessory was a silver belt woven from wires scarcely larger than thread.

A glamorous figure, and cold. As she made the flurry of introductions, Ollas tried to reconcile the image of the woman before him with the one from a memory now six years old.

Bioon Song hadn’t been so coiffed the only other time they’d met.

No, she’d been bruised and worn, as so many of the delegation had been by the time Ollas’s Sentinels group rescued them.

But her eyes. The way she always seemed to be analyzing everything, everyone, measuring their value.

That hadn’t changed. It created such a stark contrast between her and both her daughter and sister.

Yerina’s face bore laugh lines, her hair touched with gray, but even when she was tired from a busy day at the tearoom, she always possessed an aura of joy.

Bioon Song seemed like the kind of person whose smile never touched her eyes.

Yerina hesitated at the table’s edge, murmuring to Eunny that it wouldn’t take long.

Bioon shooed her sister away. “There’s no rush.

I have business matters to discuss while I’m here.

” She waited until her colleagues and sister had departed before turning her full attention to Ollas and his friends.

“Ollas Nevin, the Homegrown Hero. It’s been a while.”

“Ma’am.” He glanced sidelong at Eunny, who was regarding her mother with thinly veiled suspicion. “You seem well.”

“I’m glad you’re here. Thought I’d have to trek up to the university to find you.

” Bioon offered a polite smile to Gransen, but her mouth twitched with something like scorn as she regarded her daughter.

“I represent an interest in one of Ollas’s classes this fall. Would you mind if we spoke privately?”

Gransen shifted in his chair. Eunny dug around in her bag and produced a key. She handed it to him. “Go manage.”

Gransen took the key to the repair café and beat a hasty retreat. Ollas watched him go, a sinking feeling in his stomach as mother and daughter stared at one another.

“What are you doing here?” Eunny asked, voice low but blunt.

Bioon tutted. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

Eunny didn’t answer, merely raised her eyebrows in perfect imitation of the expectant look Bioon gave her.

“My business is with Ollas,” Bioon said. She leaned toward him, murmuring, “I thought I’d done her a favor, not insisting on the same strict filial piety norms of other Hanyeok parents. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“So you’ve said before,” Eunny muttered. “You’re one to talk. When was the last time you saw either of your parents?”

“You mentioned something about the school?” Ollas cut in. “Eunny is helping me with my workload for a bit.” He indicated his injured limbs.

“My sympathies. I hope you recover quickly.” Bioon settled back in her chair, signaling to a passing server to bring more tea. “Very well. Eunji, this meeting isn’t to be fodder for any town gossip.”

Eunny gave her mother a sour smile. “Because I make a habit of mongering rumors.”

Ignoring her daughter, Bioon pointedly faced Ollas. “I’m facilitating for the Restorers of the Alliance and their business ventures as they pertain to Coalition interests.”

“Okay,” Ollas said, feeling lost.

“What does that have to do with Sylveren?” Eunny asked.

“The elective Ollas is teaching with Professor Rai. The Coalition is coming on board as a sponsor.” Bioon pulled an unsealed letter from her cloak pocket and placed it on the table.

Ollas skimmed the letter, while Eunny leaned closer to read over his shoulder.

It contained the usual directives for regular reporting, a summarized calendar of disbursements from the Coalition, and shipping schedules.

It didn’t seem all that different from other outside funding arrangements that took place at the school, aside from an excess of verbiage for nondisclosure.

The delivery timetable was ridiculous, wanting weekly samples sent to the Coalition headquarters down in Graelynd; even with arcane enhancements to speed plant growth, it was unrealistic to think they’d have anything worth showing for weeks.

Still, it wasn’t a major inconvenience if the Coalition was willing to pay the shipping fees, and the seals on the documentation were legitimate.

A server brought a fresh pot of tea while Ollas read. Eunny returned to the cup she’d poured for herself upon arriving, though she seemed to fiddle with it more than drink as she watched her mother. Bioon sipped her tea, the picture of calm.

“Everything in order?” she asked at last. “I can bring any questions you have back to Central.”

“No, ma’am, this is easy enough,” Ollas murmured, “but the request for weekly samples, it’s, ah, excessive. In the early stages, we won’t have anything worth sending.”

“Why is the Coalition being so micromanaging?” Eunny said.