Ollas took her face between his hands, leaning down so his forehead pressed against hers as he murmured, “We agreed on no labels, right?” He gave her a shaky smile. “No spoiling the fun. And I think we could use some of that right now.”
Eunny sagged with such visible relief that Ollas wondered if she could hear how those words broke him inside.
It was after midnight by the time Eunny finally stumbled back to her apartment. She collapsed on her bed, too tired to undress. They’d cleaned up the mess of the greenhouse and produced a few theories on who would want to steal the plants. Or who would even know about them. Ollas had his Sentinels contacts to ask, but it made no sense why any of them would invade Trunk.
Eunny rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Tried not to think about how hollow Ollas had been with her. The forced casualness as they’d worked. Not his shy, sweet awkwardness like when they’d first been getting used to each other. No comfortable, familiar silence.
It shouldn’t have bothered her so much. Now he knew how she felt. What her limits were. They were on the same page about the seriousness, or lack thereof, of their casual fun.
Except… it hurt. She had hurt him. Couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t noticed his attraction. She’d enjoyed it. Him. Even if she’d never meant to let any such feelings get that far. Eunny had tried so hard to avoid getting into this mess.
Did you, though? a traitorous voice asked. All her teasing, flirting with Ollas to see him flush. Could she really say, from the moment she’d indulged in that kiss, that she’d been trying to avoid something real? That sleeping with Ollas had been simple, casual sex? That she hadn’t loved being called his goddess, hadn’t cared about the sentiments precisely because they came from him?
And beyond the carnal, she hadn’t exactly clung to her convictions of distance. Eunny felt… not quite at home in the Grove, but something closer to peace than she’d ever felt with Song’s Scrap. She could finally brush her fingers along the edge of her old apothecary work. Feel a touch of joy again instead of revulsion and anger and guilt. No, in the end, she hadn’t tried so hard to keep her distance. Agreeing to stay on for the elective, to help with those damned weeds. Feeling the spark, as Dae had said. Feeling comfortable enough with Ollas that the beliefs she’d held for so long, couched in fear and doubt, started to soften—only a little, but they had. She had. With him, Eunny had let her mind start to change.
She exhaled slowly, emotions mixing with exhaustion as her mind tried to wrap itself around these revelations and what they meant. What she should do. The tumult was such that it took a moment for her to recognize a tug at the edge of her mind. A hum in the air, beneath her skin, homing in on her center. The steady pulse of not her heartbeat but something else. A different thrum of life, insistent, and so familiar when she paid attention.
Eunny sat up, looking at her kitchen counter and the two cuttings she had floating in water.
Eunny huddled outside of Trunk, unable to gain entrance since she wasn’t staff, and waited for Ollas to arrive. The cuttings were tucked into her cloak’s inner pockets, each snug in a fist-sized jar, roots happily submerged in a watery gel she’d infused with her magic. The plants exuded a buzzy energy palpable through the thin glass of their containers, as if it could hardly be contained in their, well, skin, or whatever the plant equivalent was.
She rested her head against the greenhouse door, eyes closing. Sleep had been more illusion than reality. She’d spent hours reviewing old apothecary notes against the meager knowledge she’d gained thus far in helping with the elective, and nervousness at reaching for her magic again didn’t amount to much rest. Using her magic of her own volition. Revealing it. Because after tonight, Eunny didn’t know how she’d be able to keep its existence a secret any longer. The pair of cuttings had responded well to her magic, their innate call building even more. Linking her to them, them to her.
And to Ollas. The more she let herself feel the plants’ resonance—stopped resisting it and truly listened—other familiarities arose. The restlessness and intangible pull that had been growing since the summer. Little notes in the magic that she knew instinctively were Ollas. Traces of his magic embedded in the plants like nuggets of gold. They were unmistakable now that she knew to look. If she could feel the pieces of him in the spell that bound them, then he should be able to find the elements of her.
The plants had put out even more of their glossy green leaves. Eunny was no gardener, but to her novice eye, they looked close to flowering. If she could nudge one to bloom, just one, so they could collect the seeds, that was all she needed. Seeds would buy them time to figure out what the plants even were that would incite theft. Or, buy someone the time needed; Eunny wasn’t opposed to taking Zhenya’s advice and passing the whole mess off to someone else. Presuming the imprinting process had only been spelled into the initial batch of seeds. But she’d deal with that if it came up.
“Eunny?”
She startled. “Shit! Scared the life out of me, Nev.”
“Sorry,” Ollas murmured. He inclined his head toward the door. “You wanted to meet?”
“I’ll tell you inside.”
Ollas let them into the greenhouse. Eunny checked the antechambers, confirming they were empty before re-locking the main entrance. Ollas watched her, brows knitting together in confusion, but didn’t speak. She steeled herself, sucking in a deep breath before opening the fronts of her cloak.
“We’re not out of this yet.” She revealed the two glass jars she carried. “I think they’re about to flower.”
His eyes widened, mouth dropping open. As recognition hit, he nodded slowly, attention more on her than the cuttings. He lifted his hand, calling a few quavery yellow-white sparks. “I’m feeling pretty good today. Want to see if we can push them to bloom?”
Her mental preparation for the moment wavered. “I-I… Ollas, I can’t?—”
“Eunny.” Her name was spoken with such calm, at odds with her frenetic babble. Ollas reached past her to activate the opacity charm enchanted onto the greenhouse’s glass windows. Meant to shield the greenhouse from rare days of intense summer sun, the enchantment blurred them so they resembled indistinct silhouettes to outside view.
“The spell needs both of us.” Ollas grabbed a deep planting tray, put a scoop of corrupted earth into the bottom, and set the tray between them on the counter. He held her gaze. “I can try first, see if I can wake them.”
They were standing beside each other again, close enough that Eunny could feel the warmth emanating from his skin. One small movement of her elbow and she’d touch him. And yet. They were so close, but there might as well have been an ocean between them. Vast and ever so empty. Devoid of anything so solid as words. Words that he’d implied with his careful phrasing and knowing—maybe even encouraging—looks. Words that she refused to say. Once they became sounds, concrete things uttered from her mouth, there was no taking them back. Speaking was admitting.
But the way Ollas looked at her, his thready magic flickering in his palm, the lack of surprise in his tone when he spoke… He knew. But he wouldn’t force her to admit it aloud. Instead, he’d let her show him without words.
At her tiny nod, Ollas took one of the cuttings and gently buried the stem. Then he sank his fingers into the dirt until his palm rested on the surface. Eunny’s hand jumped up—whether to stop him or something else, she didn’t know. She forgot to breathe, eyes glued to where his hand disappeared into the poisoned ground.
A faint, unsteady glow built around Ollas’s palm. His magic, weak and thready like a guttering candle but still present.
She held herself still, swallowed back her nerves as a new presence cropped up in her mind. A familiar tug at her magic. Only, this time, it felt so much more alive.
The cutting still enclosed in its jar buzzed softly against the glass, while its twin fluttered against Ollas’s hand.
