Page 48 of Growing Memories (Valley of Sylveren #2)

The guard succeeded in breaking the glass, the butt of a long shovel crashing through with an explosion of shards.

He jerked the wooden pole from side to side, clearing away the jagged pieces that remained in the window frame.

The other guard stepped forward and reached inside, searching for the rune carved into the wall and?—

Every hair on Ollas’s arms stood up. An electric crackle zipped through the air and sped across his skin before vanishing. It left him staggering in its wake. The sensation was incorporeal yet so powerful he felt it in his bones.

Vines dropped from the ceiling, latching on to the door.

One landed on the guard’s arm, startling a yell from him. Everywhere the vines made fresh contact, they sent out aerial roots, digging into wood, grasping every surface. The guard cursed, fighting to extract his arm from the roots.

A vine brushed against Eunny’s sleeve, immediately catching the fabric.

She yelped, trying to jerk her arm back.

Ollas grabbed the vine with one hand and Eunny with the other, desperation granting him one more tiny spark of light.

The vine let go, the new greenish roots loosening as they wavered in the air, searching for new purchase.

Ollas hauled Eunny back until they were clear of the vines wriggling in the air.

“What did you do?” she whisper-shouted.

“I think it’s protecting the greenhouse,” he replied, awestruck as more vines fell across the broken window, slowly creating a barrier of thick, tough stems.

“What happened to plants not being sentient enough for malice?”

“ Most . I said most.”

On the other side of the living wall, Bioon could be heard yelling at the guards to find axes.

Ollas tried to listen—better to have an idea of their next move—but a strange hum built in his ears.

The hairs on his nape prickled as a phantom hand all but pushed him toward the potted plant still clutched in Eunny’s hands.

The hum shifted, became more of a ringing sound that grew louder with each pulse of his heart.

Not sweet and bell-like but an unpleasant, sheer noise that sent minute vibrations coursing down his body.

His inner sphere of light, though weak, popped and fizzed in response, causing erratic blips of magic to flare at his fingertips.

“Eunny, the bloom cycle.” Ollas drew her back to the antechamber’s far corner. “I don’t think we have much time. You’re going to need to give it a push.” He cleared a space for her pot on the upper rack.

Eunny set it down, a sad smile on her face as she gave one of the pink buds a gentle pat. “I don’t know if I have enough magic left.”

“I can guide you. I think. If you’ll let me,” he murmured. “Just enough for the transfer, then I’ll drop off and?—”

“No.” Eunny bit her lip, indecision in her eyes. Slowly, she held her hand out to him. “It imprinted on both of us. I think it needs the both of us. Can you feel it?”

Ollas touched one of the leaves, eyes closing as a flicker of his light eagerly shot into the plant. A certain tension seeped into the air, seemed to wrap around the plant and cause its leaves to curl at the edges. A pressure built in Ollas’s head.

“The imprinting spell,” he said.

“Nev, you’ll probably be tied to these again until we figure out how to pass it on or break it or whatever,” Eunny murmured. “It could be years, if we’re stuck with this bloom cycle thing. It’ll definitely complicate things for your teaching.”

Bioon’s threats of pressing charges and costing Ollas his job lingered at the back of his mind.

Even if she was bluffing, Eunny was probably right; he’d be locked in for whatever the seeds entailed.

His grand return to Sylveren and teaching again would be disrupted, and he hadn’t even been back a full year.

But he wouldn’t be in it alone.

“I choose you, remember?” Ollas took her hand. “Every time.”

Trust didn’t come easily for Eunny. Not with a mother like she had.

Some of that was on her. She trusted so few, and even those people, she barely let them in.

She let in Dae and Zhenya. Trusted them, loved them.

They were her family and would protect her if she let them.

She had in some ways. But in other ways, maybe she didn’t because it had never felt quite right.

With Ollas, those subconscious barriers fell away.

He was safe. Everything about him: the warmth of his hand in hers, the sputtery little drop that was his magic, the sensation in Eunny’s mind when her magic curled around his and coaxed it to join; all of it came together in her mind.

The prospect of giving him such intimate access, something far more profound than just her body—for once, Eunny didn’t feel any trepidation.

Didn’t feel any guilt for handing over this part of herself.

Didn’t feel any guilt over being willing to bond, with all of the joys and burdens it entailed.

She was making Ollas responsible, at least in part, for whatever actions her magic wrought, good and bad. And she didn’t feel the least bit anxious about it.

Maybe that was love—feeling comfortable enough with someone that you gave them some of your mess. It was the height of intimacy. Or selfishness. She could concede the point either way.

Warmth gathered in their clasped hands as licks of Ollas’s light burbled up to meet Eunny’s. Their magic intertwined, settling around the cutting’s leaves as she let their magic flow. He reached with his free hand to brush against a leaf. His fingers twitched reflexively, then dug into the soil.

With Ollas’s magic spiraling around hers, Eunny followed suit, letting her palm settle atop the dirt as she urged a drop of her magic to bead at her fingertip.

Ollas gave it a mental nudge, and the magic wicked through the substrate and spread through the branches in a glowing line to enter each unopened bud.

Eunny gasped. One by one, the dim glow in multiple buds went out. Snuffed like candles. Only, instead of a curl of smoke, they put out a wisp of golden light that hovered in the air as the little nubs dropped to the ground.

“Gently,” Ollas murmured.

Together, they collected the tendrils of light with their joined hands, Eunny extending her index finger to catch each one.

The wisps stuck to her skin, as fine as spider’s silk.

Ollas guided her hand to the base of the plant.

With the help of Eunny’s magic, he urged each strand to sink into the dirt.

She poured more of her magic into the ground, reaching for whatever dregs she had left. Just as she had six years ago.

Except she wasn’t alone this time. She didn’t feel wobbles in her control. Exhaustion, yes, and a tingle of her old fear, too. That part hadn’t completely left her.

Yet, when she called, her magic answered, just as it once had. Maybe not with the same force, but it traveled pathways the latent edges of her mind still remembered.

The remaining immature blossoms, only a trio or so left amongst the dark green leaves, began to swell.

Tugging Ollas’s magic along, Eunny cupped one of the buds between their palms. A velvety softness brushed against her skin.

She lowered her hand so as not to inhibit the large, frilly, pink-and-red bloom.

It kept spreading, rows of petals unfolding in a circular motion, wrinkling, and shriveling back as a new row opened in the center.

The flower got to the size of Eunny’s palm before the bloom withered a final time, sinking inward, its petals browning as they curled up.

Ollas carefully pulled the spent petals away to reveal a bulbous, green pod.

“I thought there were supposed to be—” A surprised squeak that was not at all embarrassing came out of her when Ollas broke the pod open to reveal— “Seeds.”

“It’s not too late.” Their gazes locked. “I don’t think we’ve triggered the imprinting spell yet. We could give these to Ezzyn and Dae. They could take them to Rhell and you wouldn’t have to bind yourself to them.”

Eunny jerked her thumb toward the vine-covered door, where they could hear faint hacking and chopping. “Not leaving anything to chance. But if you want out, I won’t stop you.”

Ollas laughed, bending to give her a quick kiss. “Never.”

“Good.”

Eunny fed drops of their intertwined magic into the seeds, sighing with relief as she felt the minute pull of each of the over a dozen seeds drinking in some light.

They vibrated briefly in her hand, attempting to pull more magic from their fingertips.

Ollas’s supply, always weak and flickery, petered out.

Panic fluttered in Eunny’s belly. Her magic wavered as the reflex to shut it down, to rip out any semblance of the arcane from her mind and bury it beneath fear and denial and shame, roared through her head.

But those were the rash thoughts of Old Eunny. The woman who was content to run from her magic and convinced herself that that would be enough. That she could be happy with a mundane life.

Ollas gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Concentrating on the warmth of his palm against hers, the steadiness of his grip, Eunny exhaled with a measured breath.

Finally, she broke off her connection to the seeds.

They buzzed one last time, then went still. A tentative brush with just a whisper of her magic didn’t cause them to stir. Eunny didn’t get an impression of anything arcane in them at all.

The plant shuddered, its once-emerald leaves rapidly shriveling as they twisted and turned brown. The few remaining buds wrinkled and fell to the ground, their deep pink fading to a dusty taupe. Within seconds, the once-vibrant mini shrub was a withered husk of its former self.

Eunny glanced at Ollas, shoulders bobbing in a shrug. “That was close.” She cupped the fresh seeds in her palm. Their brown shells had a deep, satiny shine. “I think it worked. They feel dormant or something.”

“No!” Through a fist-sized hole in the vines, Bioon glared at them. “You wretched girl?—”

In the distance, a horn call rang through the air. Ollas turned, peering through the misted glass of the antechamber’s walls. “That’s a Sentinel horn.”

Bioon disappeared from the doorway.

Eunny leaned against the rack, sliding the new seeds into a discarded vial left near the door.

She stared at the bedlam of the antechamber, the bits of vine and broken glass carpeting the floor.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat. It came out maybe a tad hysterical, but she didn’t care.

She laughed anyway, knees going weak as adrenaline was replaced by fatigue and heady relief.

Ollas rubbed his sleeve against the smudged glass, not that it did much good. “I think I can see the others.”

“That’s wonderful. Get over here.”

He glanced back at her. “Eh?”

He started to ask something, probably to see if she was okay, because he was kind and thoughtful like that—sweet words Eunny would never know, because they were lost to the depths of her mouth as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him closer.

“Thank you,” she murmured against his lips.

Ollas wrapped his arms around her. “Anything for my goddess.”

“Anything?” Eunny drawled. “Goodness. What’s a deity to do with so much power?”

His fingers kneaded her back, finding knots the excitement of the morning—gods all break, it was still only morning— had blissfully let her forget. “I can think of a few things,” he said, lips traveling from her mouth to her neck.

“You and your greenhouse kink.” Eunny’s head tipped back. “I like?—”

A knock on the glass made them look over.

“No fraternizing with the faculty,” Dae called, her voice mock stern. “This is a school.”

Laughing, Eunny made a rude gesture at her friend before pulling Ollas back for another kiss.