Page 24 of Growing Memories (Valley of Sylveren #2)

Chapter Fourteen

Eunny ducked out of her room, quieting her step as she went through the empty common area to the door.

Ollas was back to sleeping in his own bed, the living area returned to a shared communal space.

Papers were strewn across the table, a mix of Gransen’s studies, Ollas’s midterm prep, and various correspondence related to the elective.

Eunny retrieved a piece that had fallen on the floor, lips twitching into a smile when she saw Ollas’s blocky handwriting.

A ramp-up in work hadn’t spared them much in the way of privacy since their talk in the greenhouse.

Days turned into a week, and though he still flushed at her jokes, and laughter and conversation flowed easily between them, there was something else in the air now, too.

Something charged. Glances that lingered a beat too long to be nothing.

And, if she was honest with herself, those looks weren’t happening only one way.

Ollas had been true to his word, getting her added on as some sort of vaguely official consultant for the elective.

She didn’t know how he’d sold it to Rai and didn’t ask.

Ollas hadn’t said anything about their almost…

whatever it was that had happened between them.

That crystalline moment when she’d let her mouth run off and spill her angry heart.

Spilled some feelings, too. Tested the air to see if the spark Dae kept asking about really existed.

And, oh, did it ever. The feel of Ollas’s hand on hers.

His quiet, earnest words. The way he looked at her.

Not to mention his other bodily reactions .

It was unsettling, how she craved more. Which was unlike her.

She didn’t mean to brag or anything, but whenever she’d deigned to “hop a boat to Renstown,” as Dae had put it, Eunny didn’t lack for choice.

Her singledom of the last several years was of her own volition, a mix of busyness and apathy.

That had been her outlook since she’d settled in the Valley. And yet, Eunny was pretty damn sure that if Gransen hadn’t barged in on them, she’d have learned if that spark she felt with Ollas had a taste.

Which was exciting and a problem. She felt…

safe, around him. No, not safe. Safety implied fear, and she wasn’t afraid of her traitorous magic.

More like incandescent with rage. But, just with his presence, Ollas softened those emotions, too.

She felt comfortable with him. Calmer. Enough to consider dabbling a bit more.

Which was folly. Magic was dead to her, apothecary work just a thing of her past. Eunny was here to assuage her guilt, not to test out her magic.

Not to make herself feel at home. Freckles and a few soft touches didn’t undo six years of feeling destroyed.

But damn did being around Ollas nearly do it.

As evidenced by her still being here. Giving commentary on the elective’s medicinal trials.

Fending off Ennis and their pestering about how to steep the ultimate brain elixir or whatever else they were trying on any particular day.

Eunny even had a water propagation setup in her windowsill for a few pieces of the delegation plants.

None of it required her magic, but such distinction felt more and more like a technicality.

She was supposed to have left this aspect of her life behind.

These allowances she kept making, letting herself feel comfortable, none of it could last. Eunny knew it yet didn’t feel bothered by it.

She happily pushed those whispers of concern aside.

Taking a detour so she could pass through the Heartwood, Eunny snagged a biscuit from a plate Soph had left out to share.

She gave it a tentative sniff—no lavender this time, but a delicious bite of mint.

Lingering by the table, she eavesdropped as a group of Initiate Ones engaged in vigorous debate over how to improve a humane mouse trap for the Heartwood’s resident terrors.

“It ruined my wheat berries. I say we just get a trap from town.”

“We’re Sylveren grovetenders ! We can build better than?—”

“I told you not to use Soph’s nut butter.”

“Hey! It’s fresh-churned, no preserva?—”

“It’s a mouse. It wants the cheap shit they eat in Central.”

Covering a smile behind her pilfered biscuit, Eunny turned to the door in time to see Zhenya walking by, arms full with two large packages.

“Mail run?” Eunny asked, intercepting her friend and relieving her of one of the parcels.

Zhenya nodded, murmuring her thanks as she said, “Copy of my thesis on interdisciplinary ink applications for pictorial enchantments.”

“Explains why this feels like a ton of books.” Eunny hefted her package. “With all your studying, how are you not at Master level yet?”

Zhenya laughed, nudging the Heartwood’s outer door open for them. “I’d have to get through Magister’s first.”

“What’s the hold up?”

“I get distracted.” Zhenya indicated the package in her hands. “Samples from the red dye plants I was working on for Adept Two. These are for a friend in southern Graelynd working on improving archival colors. Doesn’t count for Magister One since it’s all old research.”

Eunny shook her head. Zhenya could earn all three Magister levels if she’d set her mind to it.

The little inkmaker loved the university, that much was plain, but for whatever reason, she didn’t strive for a higher rank or profession.

She was content to stay an Adept Two and senior assistant for Professor Rai.

Eunny coveted such happiness. Divested as she was from her mother’s meddling, she still hadn’t completely banished the nagging sense of obligation to do more, always.

They split up at the mailroom’s counter, Zhenya to post her packages and Eunny to check the box she’d been sharing with Ollas and Gransen during her stay. It was too soon for Dae to have written, but Yerina sent up relevant correspondence whenever any came in.

Several envelopes stuffed the small box.

Most were for Gransen and Ollas, with only a few for Eunny.

The short, terse note from her mother nagging for an update was easily tossed out, but a flare of guilt licked at her when she found an envelope with her aunt’s flowy handwriting.

She’d been lax in getting back into town of late.

It had been weeks now since Bioon’s second surprise visit, and Eunny had only seen her aunt for a handful of minutes the few times she’d been by the Mighty Leaf.

Her guilt intensified when she saw that Yerina’s letter, aside from some notes on early planning for that year’s Winterfest event at the teashop, also included estimates for the café’s repairs from several craftspeople in Sylvan.

Eunny flipped through the papers, noting price quotes and estimates for the time to start and complete different stages of work.

She would have to decide who to hire and for what, soon, before schedules were booked up and the café suffered even more damage as it moldered away in its ruptured state.

Folding the papers back into the envelope, Eunny saw she had one last piece of mail. A half slip of paper bearing the bronze seal of Sylvan’s administration department and the letterhead of the housing office. A small apartment over in Belle Complex was finally available if she still wanted it.

Did she? It would mean losing the Grove, her easy living situation, one short hallway separating her from Ollas and Gransen. No more guarantees of seeing them every day.

No interruptions from errant roommates.

“What’s that?” Zhenya asked as she came over.

Eunny showed her the paper. Zhenya made a sound of approval. “Belle would be nice. Not too far from the greenhouses, and next door to the library.”

Eunny snorted. “Now if only they could have books in an arboretum, we’d never see you again.”

“I have some ideas for one,” Zhenya said. “Small scale, but I might be able to get the humidity levels to work.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Eunny noticed the handful of envelopes Zhenya had retrieved from her own box. “Good mail day for you.”

“Reports from some colleagues in Den’olm. We’re almost ready to send them samples from the elective.”

The border town in northeastern Rhell was one of the kingdom’s main lines of defense against the poison due to its placement along a ley line.

Containing the blight there took an immense amount of resources, and that was before calculating the extra time it took with the mages having to take trips to the Valley to purge the contamination from their bodies.

“Yea, Ollas is all aflutter about that,” Eunny said. “He’s going to end up back at the Healing Hut if he doesn’t take a break.”

The first trial had progressed to the point of flowering, the starter and transplant mixes now so finely tuned that if a batch suffered, the students could get a new flat planted and grown to size in a couple of days.

The blooms produced were on the pale side, balanced atop delicate stems that defied gravity through what Eunny could only presume was grovetender sorcery. A cross-country trip seemed ambitious.

“We’ll give them another run or two for improvements, but we can’t accurately simulate the way the poison is reacting in containment,” Zhenya said. “Even with the new shipments, the newer soil’s just not lasting long enough down here to test those parameters.”

Dae had confessed that Ezzyn was at loggerheads with his eldest brother, King Jeron, over whether or not to pause the containment efforts to ensure a supply of material for continuing research, or stay the course in deploying wards to curtail the spread.

Eunny didn’t envy them the conflict, for it seemed like choosing between evils.

She knew Ezzyn could be zealous in his quest to find a cure for Rhell, but perhaps having the love of his life fall ill would tilt him toward his brother’s approach.