Eunny stared at her mother, both impressed with and disturbed by the way Bioon could deliver a threat with a humoring smile on her face. “Nothing comes to mind,” she said.
Bioon’s mouth twitched as if she were on the cusp of saying more, but then her gaze shifted. She looked past Eunny and lifted her chin in acknowledgement.
Yerina approached, eyes darting between sister and niece. “Everything all right? Bi, would you like some of the huckleberry teacakes for?—”
“No, Yeri, my tastes have changed.” Bioon stood up, ignoring her sister’s pained look, and glanced down at Eunny. “Do tell Ollas that I expect thorough reporting if the Coalition is to entertain any record requests.”
She left without waiting for a response. Probably for the best, since all Eunny came up with on the spot was mostly cursing. After chatting with her aunt for a bit, neither of them in the most talkative of moods, she trudged back toward the school. Unease itched beneath her skin as she ran through the conversation with her mother, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause. Bioon suspected Eunny’s inquiries were for the elective, which wasn’t true, but would that cause trouble for Ollas and Rai? And the way she’d hung on the notion of Eunny’s returning magic… None of it boded well for Eunny being able to keep such things a secret. Especially not with Zhenya’s grim revelation about the delegation plants and the ticking clock of their bloom cycle, the new problem of them starting to shrivel and die without magic.
Eunny massaged her temples. She remembered the seeds from the delegation. How they’d seemed to absorb her magic when she tested them for any innate healing properties. Had she already started the imprinting process back then? Been the seeds’ first taste of magic? Despite Zhenya’s theories of the plants transferring to any source of light magic, Eunny doubted the likelihood of that. Worse, a curl of possessiveness rose up at the thought of their plants, hers and Ollas’s, being handed off to someone else.
“You’ve got to get the fuck out, Eun,” she murmured to herself.
Get the plants to bloom. Make more for Dae. Then get out before she fucked up and did something absolutely unallowed… like fall for Ollas.
She’d break his sweet heart, if she had to. And all without spilling the secret of her magic.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning dawned gray and misty, as was standard for deep fall in the Valley of Sylveren. Or any time for the region, the notable chill in the air being the only way to differentiate seasons. Unlike the day before, Eunny woke feeling lighter, more determined not to overthink but simply enjoy. She banished the dark cloud that always seemed to linger after an encounter with her mother—only fun allowed. Nothing serious in any regard. No dwelling on likelihoods or what-ifs. That wasn’t her way; Eunny didn’t look back. Forward only and leave the shit behind. It was a mindset that had been working out well for her so far. In her experience, people were happy to follow her lead. No one liked confronting uncomfortable truths if given an escape route.
Thinking she’d pop by the storage greenhouse while the main sheds were busy with Initiate classes, Eunny opened her door and nearly smacked into Gransen.
“Gremlin. Hello,” she said once she’d recovered from her shock. “Can I help you?”
Gransen held up the sheaf of papers containing the estimates and options for renovating Song’s Scrap. His untidy scrawl covered the pages in blue ink. “Got a moment to go over this?”
“Walk and talk.” Eunny sidestepped him out onto the road. Gransen scrambled after her, shielding the papers from the light mist.
“Top page is the proposed schedule for structured fixes. Walls, roof, floors. Woodworkers’ Guild thinks the floors are mostly salvageable, and they can repurpose bits from the other parts since we don’t care about matching. Most of the roof and wall that came down are goners, and winter coming isn’t great for repairs. It’s doable, but we can get a better deal if we just go small and temporary for now and save the full job for early next year.” Gransen spoke in rapid-fire sentences. “Cost is reasonable, and I’ve already talked with a rep at the bank about a loan.”
“Gransen.”
“Really reasonable rates!” He flipped a few pages. “I’ve drawn up some possible work schedules and new price structures to fund everything. Already got a lot of new jobs willing to pay an advance, too.”
“You’re already lining up work?” Eunny cried. “Gransen, I can’t even start— The café is full of shit right now. It has a piece of waxed canvas for a roof! You can’t go?—”
“When was the last time you looked at the café?” he asked, brows raised.
“I was just…”
But she hadn’t checked on Song’s Scrap, only the Mighty Leaf and her auntie. Eunny all but averted her eyes when it came to her café. Still, she’d have noticed if it had grown a stable rooftop overnight. Right?
She glared at him. “It’s not fit for habitation.”
“Maybe not,” Gransen said, “but we’re not asking anyone to live there.”
“You keep saying ‘we,’ I notice.”
“You did tell me to manage. Delegated, as I recall, so, I did my job.” He flipped another page with more drama than such movement required. “Now, ancillary expenses.”
Eunny eyed the crude sketch in one corner. “Didn’t I say no to curtains already?”
“Hear me out. The Weavers’ Guild wants to do a whole workshop around them. Fluff to bolts to fabric, or whatever. Fundraise and involve the town in the process. Might even get some of the Renstownies to come over, though of course we’d charge them double.”
“I don’t know. This sounds like?—”
“It’s communal, Eun. It’ll be good. Have some faith in me.”
