But…she couldn’t. She’d been serious when she’d said this was just to help out a friend, to make up for some of the harm she’d caused, that was all. No putting down roots in the community, no getting used to this path in her life. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.
Once Zhenya was finished, Eunny helped her carry her imbued glassware to the specialty greenhouse that housed the work of high-level mages. They parted ways, Zhenya going off to finish recordkeeping for Professor Rai. Eunny continued on toward the Grove, pausing at the foot of the outer stair. The energetic clamor of the Heartwood wafted toward her on the air, plucking at her chest. The sounds were blurred through the wood, but there was a joyous note to them, a warmth that invited with open arms.
Eunny made it halfway up the steps to the residence branch before stopping. She wasn’t staying; she just already happened to be here, for the time being. If her days in the Grove were already numbered, what could it hurt to pass through the common room?
Eunny turned around and descended the stairs with measured steps. She’d do a quick pass through the common room, see if she could snag whatever the latest baked good was, maybe raid the tea stash, since she’d only brought one tin with her and some variety would be nice.
A dozen Grove residents of varying years were spread throughout the Heartwood. Several were engaged in a board game Eunny didn’t recognize. Judging by the laughter and trio of flagons on the table, two of which were tipped on their sides, the logic of the game was a thing of the past. The cloying scent of cheap cordial fermented to within an inch of its life assailed her nose. Hard to say if it had been enhanced by magic or the limits of a student’s budget. Probably both, and they’d pay for it with killer hangovers in the morning.
One of the smaller tables in the back had a nearly empty plate of cookies that looked like they couldn’t decide if they were gray or purple.
“Careful,” a voice murmured from Eunny’s left. “Soph didn’t get the proportions right.” Ennis, the know-it-all kid from the elective, strolled over from their place on a nearby couch. “The dumplings were better.” They pointed at a smaller, woefully empty plate.
Eunny broke off a corner of a cookie and nibbled. It smelled overwhelmingly of lavender and tasted like medicine that badly wanted to be soap. Maybe being alone in her room wasn’t such a bad option after all. She went to the counter to peruse the tea selection. Ennis followed.
“You’re not a grovetender,” they said, helping themselves to a mug.
“You noticed.”
“How’d you manage living here, then?”
“Friends in high places.” Eunny helped herself to a disposable tea bag and opened a tin of a toasted green variety her aunt brought in from one of the Radiant Isles.
“You’re a light mage. And you’re old. Shouldn’t you be in Belle or something?” The kid pulled three jars toward them and started spooning tiny dried pieces of bitter melon into a strainer basket in the mug.
“I’m working on—” Eunny eyed the amounts going into the mug. “What are you doing?”
“Making a wellness and digestion blend. What?” They gave her a defensive look. “I read up about it.”
Eunny pressed her eyes closed. For patience, and also to block out the image of the kid adding heaps of blaze-spotted gentian to their mug. The clink of the spoon against a jar of powdered dandelion made Eunny fling her hand out to stop Ennis from lifting the lid.
“You need about four more stomachs to manage any of that.”
“There’s a chapter on this in the Basics to Herbalism book,” Ennis said, a mulish jut to their chin.
“Ever heard of a thing called moderation?” Not to mention that the student-run mercantile had an entire section devoted to herbal remedies. Blends that were made under the supervision of Magister levels, not two lines in an introductory textbook.
“It’s good for me.” Ennis shook one of the jars. “Extra goodness.”
Gods all break.
“Maybe if you were part ruminant.” Eunny knocked their hand away and emptied the strainer into the compost bin, shushing Ennis’s indignant squawk. “I’ve known you for all of a day and I can tell you don’t need that much cooling. Move.”
Eunny swept the kid aside, dumping their disaster mug and exchanging their jars for a mild tisane of forest herbs with speckled ashberries for interest.
Adding enough hot water to fill the mug, she warned, “Don’t touch that until I’m done,” before grabbing another teabag. Taking her time, Eunny made herself another blend, raiding the tins of frosted chamomile and dried elderberries.
Ennis huffed, loudly, but did as they were ordered. When Eunny finally gave them a nod, they slowly lifted the mug. Much sniffing and suspicious looks were done, but when they finally deigned to take a tiny sip, it was quickly followed by a larger one.
“It’s fine,” they sniffed. “Could use more honey.”
“Rot your teeth out.” Eunny slid the pot in their direction before grabbing her pilfered teabags. “If you really want something for your gut, just go to the student store. Get the free ones and sweeten back here.”
Ennis rolled their eyes as they took another sip. “Okay, Mom.” They smirked at Eunny’s appalled look, considering the mug. “Guess you know something.” They sauntered back to the couch.
Eunny shook her head. It wasn’t even apothecary work so much as using some common sense. Besides, she didn’t do that work anymore. This did nothing to change her mind about that.
She snorted, covering her mouth to suppress the laugh that bubbled up. The begrudging concession did make her feel an obnoxious amount of vindication.
