“Nope,” Eunny said, popping the ‘p’ just to watch her mother wince. “Why?”
“You don’t recall the trade talks?”
“You mean the private tent talks I was excluded from? I don’t like to think about the worst day of my life, and when I do, I remember that it was your fault I was there.”
“I’m flattered you think I have the power to disrupt negotiations between countries,” Bioon said in a dry tone, “but I didn’t cause your problem with your magic, Eunji.”
Maybe not directly, but Bioon was the one who’d dragged Eunny from her Adept Two studies to accompany her at the delegation. Claimed a mender’s knowledge and skills would be useful, though Eunny suspected her mother had been more interested in having a young, Sylveren-educated Graelynder along for the optics back home in Central. Maybe she’d thought having a younger person around would remind people to keep the talks civil. Either way, it hadn’t worked. Eunny’s presence hadn’t stopped the Eyllics from implementing their hostile takeover, sneaking in a dozen more guards than had been allotted in the delegation’s terms.
“We’re done here,” Eunny said. “Either accept the reports Ollas is sending or, next time, check the greenhouse yourself. Don’t make Auntie Yerina cover for you.”
“Actually, Eunji, I’d appreciate an accounting from you as well.” Bioon raised a hand when Eunny started to argue. “I will, of course, continue to defer to Ollas and Professor Rai, but I’m interested in your thoughts as well. The work that goes into assisting, in your own words. I’m sure you’re seeing things from a different angle from the regular students.”
Reflex had a nasty retort on the tip of Eunny’s tongue, a barb about not being at the beck and call of the Coalition or her mother. A tingle of instinct at the back of her mind gave Eunny pause. Something about her mother’s intent gaze, the too-casual way in which she’d voiced her request, aroused a tendril of suspicion that Eunny couldn’t immediately place. She wasn’t as good at playing games as her mother—just one of the consequences of having a heart—but Eunny had been frustrated by the woman and her misdirection enough times that she could recognize some of the tells.
“I’m not going to be around much longer anyway,” Eunny said. “Ollas is about ready to manage on his own.”
She watched the interest drop away from her mother’s face, whatever value Eunny might’ve had diminishing at her statement.
“How wonderful for him.” Bioon slipped from the booth, swishing her cloak about her shoulders. She looked down at her daughter, an imperious tilt to her head. It was a familiar look, and Eunny hated that a part of herself was still mesmerized by it—repulsed, yet unable to look away. There was something coldly beautiful about her mother. Unfeeling, and the soft pieces that remained in Eunny yearned to know how she managed it.
“It doesn’t surprise me that you’ve fit in so well here.” Bioon spun on her heel and walked away, brushing past Yerina with a shake of her head.
Eunny followed at a slower pace. “That went well,” she deadpanned to her aunt. “I’ll come by again later.”
She trudged back to the school, Bioon’s probing words jangling in her ears. Her disdain was nothing new, but the veiled questions suggested something else. Eunny couldn’t remember the last time a conversation with her mother didn’t have at least an element of antagonism, but bringing up the delegation? Asking Eunny to report on Ollas?
Any way she looked at it, Eunny didn’t like what she saw, but she didn’t have anything concrete to validate her suspicions, either.
As she meandered up the path to the Grove, she scanned each of the greenhouse buildings she passed. A few Adept-levels working in Sapling, but no Ollas. Eunny turned toward the main tree. Movement in her periphery had her spinning around in time to see Ollas’s back disappearing through the door at Trunk.
Changing course, Eunny followed him.
Chapter Eleven
Peeking through the window set into Trunk’s outer door, Eunny saw that Ollas was alone. She sauntered in, a mock disapproving look on her face. “I thought you were grading?”
Ollas glanced over his shoulder, a smile lighting his face, and pointed to a short pile of paperwork. “I did.” He hunched his shoulders sheepishly. “I’m just taking a break.”
She stopped next to him, boosting herself up so she could sit on the countertop, legs dangling. “Slacking off, I see,” she joked, though she had to force levity into her tone and smooth the tightness from her expression.
Ollas peered at her. “Problem at the Mighty Leaf?”
Eunny scrunched her face in displeasure. “Just…mother problems. Nothing new, it’s just been a while.” She tilted her head as she eyed the topmost paper. “The novices going to be all tears after their first university exam?”
“I’m sure this wasn’t their first,” Ollas said. “Jolly has the Intro to Arcane Influences on Statistics class this term, and she likes to nip in the bud any thoughts that her name and personality are related by giving an ‘evaluation quiz’ the first week.”
Eunny winced, shaking her head. “Hang on.” She turned the paper so it faced her. “Are you changing the answer key?”
“Yes. Half of the class has gotten that question wrong.” Ollas’s mouth curved with a soft smile.
Eunny stared at him. “And? Tell them to study harder.”
“Half of the class, Eunny,” Ollas repeated. “I strike any question with that kind of failure rate for lack of clarity.”
“Isn’t that being soft on them?” Eunny folded her arms over her chest. “Life isn’t going to give them a pass for not understanding the question. You’re not doing them any favors with coddling, and I don’t just mean if they go to mean old Central. This won’t pass in Sylvan, either.”
“A majority failure rate is indicative of a larger problem,” Ollas said, his voice patient but firm, without condescension. “Either it’s a failure in my teaching of the subject or a failure in how I’ve worded the question. Either way, it’s a failure on my part.”
