“Business hasn’t been going so well here, though, has it?”
Eunny flushed.
“I saw your little… shop.” A tiny smile traced Bioon’s lips before her expression returned to neutral. “Unfortunate. It’s quite lucky, really, that you could attach yourself to the elective.”
“I asked,” Ollas said, cutting Eunny off from what threatened to be a shouted reply. “I could use her help.”
“Help from someone with no grovetending expertise? Why, she’s not even interested in gardening, unless”—Bioon glanced at Eunny—“your hobbies have dramatically changed?”
“The course benefits from other perspectives,” Ollas said. “And it’s only a few weeks while I?—”
“It isn’t difficult for you, daughter, given the subject matter?” Bioon’s eyes never left Eunny. “A curative for the new complications up north. It would be a shame if your emotions affected the coursework.”
“I’m so touched by your concern,” Eunny said sourly, resting her elbows on the table. “Is that why you’re here? The Coalition wants in on any curatives we produce? You here to make sure the Coalition gets its cut? Gods all break if we actually help people without maximizing Coalition profits.”
“We produce?” Bioon’s head tilted as though she were a bird studying potential prey. “I thought you were only temporary help. Are you finally working on recovering your magic? How responsible of you.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s about time. Six years of hiding.” Bioon shook her head, eyes going to Ollas once more. “It’s my fault. I should’ve insisted on more therapy and immersion from the start. Letting her fear just fester like this?—”
“I’m not afraid!” Eunny snapped, earning a few surprised looks from other patrons. She ducked her head, continuing in a furious whisper, “I lost my magic. It’s gone, Mother. No amount of wishful thinking on your part will change that.”
“You don’t just lose magic, Eunji. It’s not the key to your house. It’s repressed within you, only you’re too scared?—”
“When did you become a scholar of traumatic incidents? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t even have magic.”
Ollas had never seen Eunny like this. She griped about Gransen on occasion, even snapped at him when he was being particularly single-minded about something she didn’t want for the café. But this jagged, emotional reaction, the quick, defensive anger? The only other time he could recall anything similar was at the Mighty Leaf’s solstice release earlier that summer. Tourists harping on at Eunny about the kidnapping, the rescue, how lucky she was that the Homegrown Hero was still friendly with the Healer Who Hurts.
It wasn’t a memory he enjoyed. He’d never given it any further thought, the way Eunny was so adamant about her lack of fear when it came to magic. She was so quick to refute, and maybe that hinted at something deeper than the bad faith between mother and daughter. Although, witnessing the bitter dynamic between them, Ollas could hardly blame Eunny for her reticence.
Bioon unnerved him, no question, but Eunny’s distress did something to his insides. Had that protective flame burning hot.
“Since my own grasp of magic is pretty weak, we’re a good pair,” Ollas said, overriding Bioon’s reply. “Eunny’s knowledge of body magic is really helpful in devising soil mixes and evaluation results. I’m optimistic about the trials we have planned.”
Bioon regarded him with a cool glance, expression giving nothing away.
Nervous sweat broke out across his palms at the older woman’s scrutiny. He tried to nonchalantly wipe them on his trousers, making a show of repositioning his bad leg. “Sylveren prides itself on providing our students with both magic-born and mundane perspectives, so they have a well-rounded education.”
“Well said.” Bioon’s lips morphed into a smile, her tone back to light, almost playful. “He’s good for you, Eunji.”
“He’s a good friend,” Eunny replied, the words sounding almost like a challenge. “Always has been.”
It was a compliment, yet it made Ollas want to shrivel up inside. A good friend. His own words come back to mock him. That was Ollas, her childhood pal. Could nicer, more unromantic words be used to describe him?
Bioon looked over Ollas’s shoulder. “My employers have high hopes for the elective. Come say hello to my colleagues here. I’m sure they’d love any insights you can share, a little something to take back to their superiors in Central, hmm?”
Ollas fixed his polite, Homegrown-Hero-appeasing-the-masses smile on his face. Years of teaching, not to mention the hours he’d spent practicing and refining the look in the mirror, let it come naturally. Handy to have it in his back pocket.
He chanced a sidelong glance at Eunny. The minute motion of her jaw suggested she was chewing a hole in her lip to keep from speaking.
Ollas feigned a grimace. Let his injured shoulder quiver as he lifted his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Song, but I’ve about reached my excitement level for the day.”
“You poor dear,” Bioon said. “That must be difficult.”
“Yea, speaking of, we should grab a carriage for the trip,” Eunny said. “We have class prep to do still. Need you conscious for it.”
“Good idea.”
