Page 19 of Growing Memories (Valley of Sylveren #2)

“It’ll even out as it sets, and the spell in the granules helps ward against rot.

Not perfectly, but they help with the water retention worked into the mix and the cold spells.

” Ollas added more dirt to the tray and gently tamped it around the base of the plantlets.

“Lets us push it with how wet we can let the trays get in this climate. Especially these days.”

Eunny kept dragging the hand tool through the dirt until the roar of blood no longer rushed through her ears.

Her hand only shook a little as she set the rake aside.

She stared at the plants. The pulling sensation was dissipating, the arcane flow sinking into the dirt.

Fading. No, absorbing. With her panic easing, Eunny realized that the magic reaction wasn’t the same as when she’d lost control.

That had been a terrifying, frictionless drain as her magic streamed away.

But these plants, or the dirt, or some combination thereof, they didn’t pull her magic away so much as absorb what was at hand.

That pulling sensation. Its familiarity went beyond her fall into the patch outside the greenhouse. These seemingly benign plants, leftovers from the delegation… She was certain she’d never seen them, at least not in this fully grown form. But the absorptive properties…

A vague memory flitted in the foggy recesses of her mind, of times she’d tried so hard to never think of again.

“Eunji, come look at these. They say they’re healing plants.”

“What do you expect me to do with these?” Eunny held the seeds up in front of her face. “Goddess break, Mother ! For the last time, if you wanted plant knowledge, you should’ve brought a grovetender. Or a mender who gardened. Anyone but me!”

She’d probed the seeds with her magic, for all the good it would do.

Unless they were meant to be eaten, Eunny wasn’t the kind of apothecary who grew her own wares, and thus didn’t know what to do when given plants before they even started to become plants.

The seeds hadn’t reacted at all, just sucked up her magic.

No resonance, no spark, no indication that they were anything useful.

They were just there, taking up space. Which was rather how Eunny had felt at the delegation.

Maybe Ollas was right—something was going on.

With the plants, and with her mother. It was too coincidental.

Eunny could accept that the Coalition would want to keep an eye on the elective given its obsession with being in everyone’s business when it came to trade.

But the strange magnetism of the plants, and how that magnetism seemed to be affecting not just her but Ollas, too?

Bioon repeatedly asking Eunny about new developments in the elective, wanting Eunny to spy on Ollas?

It didn’t make sense. She didn’t understand it.

But…she didn’t have to. If Ollas’s plant nerdery was going to put him in the path of the Coalition, of her mother, Eunny knew whose side she would take every time.

“You said you were looking into the records for these things?” Eunny asked, waving a hand at the tray as Ollas resettled it on the lower shelf. “Let me know if I can do anything. I need plausible reasons to be helping you with your work.”

After they’d cleaned up from their adventures in the greenhouse, Ollas grabbed his exam paperwork and motioned toward the door. “Home?”

A heady warmth filled him when she nodded. It was a simple affirmation, and likely one he was taking too literally, but having Eunny consider the apartment her home…it was a feeling he never wanted to lose.

Eunny fell into step beside him.

“Did you feel anything?” she asked as they locked up. “Anything weird? When I was adding the new dirt.”

“Soil.” Ollas dodged her swatting hand. “A little.”

Eunny stilled.

“But I’m so used to it at this point I don’t really notice. I should’ve warned you. Sorry about that.” He gave her an abashed smile.

“You mean, the…?” Eunny trailed off, confused.

“The imbued amendments. Even mundanes can feel the physical aspects of the spells when they’re activated,” Ollas explained. “I forgot that it can be surprising if you’re not expecting it. These cold pellets have a bite.”

“Yeah, that—that was a shock.”

They lapsed into silence, but one that lacked their usual easy comfort. When Ollas chanced a look out the corner of his eye, Eunny appeared pensive, chewing at her lower lip.

“Did something happen tonight?” he asked, voice soft. “You seemed a little upset when you came in.”

Eunny made a series of annoyed sounds as they took the lift up to their apartment, finally muttering, “No. Just Bioon being herself. Thinks she’s the sword of Graelynd or something, the way she went on about national pride bullshit.

Shame on me for slumming it up here in my precious Valley .

” Her tone turned sour for the last words.

Kicking off her shoes, she dropped onto his couch bed instead of seeking her room. “I think I hate her, Nev.” She fell back, addressing the ceiling: “I hate my mother, and that probably makes me a bad person, and you know what? I don’t even feel bad about it.”

Ollas looked around, but the apartment was otherwise empty. He sat on the edge of the couch, unsure of how to respond.

Eunny’s cheeks puffed as she blew out a long breath. “I think the worst part is how Aunt Yerina still tries. Thinks we can be a happy family. She doesn’t say it , but I know she’s disappointed in me for not trying more.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Eunny huffed softly to herself, the sound stretching into a yawn. “Gods, I’m tired. She sucks the life out of me.”

“I’d take you as a protector of the Valley any day over your ma as the champion of Graelynd.”

Eunny huffed a laugh. She plucked at the edges of the blanket, briefly meeting his eyes before looking back up at the ceiling. “How’d you escape all this?”

“Which part?”

“The expectations. I mean, your mom’s great and all, but she never put any demands on you? Ever?” Her eyes drifted closed.

Ollas fiddled with his own corner of the blanket. “Well, she’s hinted that she’d like grandchildren someday.”

Eunny smiled, eyes still shut. “Why hasn’t that worked out? You’re the Homegrown Hero.” She didn’t see his grimace. “You’re really going to tell me that didn’t get you any fans, wanted or otherwise?”

Ollas felt heat rise in his cheeks. Glad that she wasn’t watching him, he murmured, “Nothing serious.”

“Never had a thing with Zhen? Before she got all obsessed with that dickbag from?—”

“Rhydian’s not so bad. It’s complicated.”

“Is that Sentinels brotherhood I hear?” Eunny cracked one eye to give him an unamused look before closing it again. “You sound like her. But that proves my point. Nothing with Zhen? Before you guys decided to just be friends.”

Ollas winced. His ma had asked the same thing a time or two. Probably most of the upper levels in the Grove had wondered the same. “No, just friends. Good ones, but only that. People used to tease her about it, until you put a stop to that.”

“Kids are jerks.”

“And you put the fear of the Goddess in them. Made believers out of me and Zhen, that’s for sure.”

Eunny yawned, spreading her arms wide. “That’s right. Worship at the Altar of Song.”

“I think I always have,” Ollas murmured, more to himself than to her. He forced a grin. “Did Zhen ever tell you about how she confirmed our friendship?”

Eunny shook her head, her drowsy “uh-uh” muffled behind closed lips.

“She must’ve been twelve, and I was about to turn fifteen.

And she was so shy about it—but direct, you know how she is when something’s bothering her.

” Ollas smiled to himself. He recounted the tale of a young, nervous, but determined Zhenya practically cornering an only somewhat older, equally nervous Ollas in the library and blurting out that she liked being friends, only friends, and was that okay.

Gods, and the relief they’d both felt to know they were on the same page.

He glanced at Eunny, noting the way her face had softened, her stillness only disturbed by slow, even breaths.

“I like Zhen, but…” Ollas spoke softly, his confession barely more than a whisper. Lost to sleep, Eunny didn’t hear him. He carefully got up and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. She didn’t so much as stir.

“It never would’ve worked,” he murmured. “She isn’t you.”

With quiet steps, Ollas went back to the table to finish his grading.