Ollas scooted a clay pot full of soil mix in front of her. “Ready?”
Eunny put her hand on the jar, fingers hesitating over the cork lid.
“No,” she admitted. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“You do,” Ollas said. “We can leave for Rhell right now, and there’s the?—”
She shook her head. “It won’t make it.” She rubbed the glass with a finger. The veins on the cutting’s leaves were starting to glow with a faint, flickering light. “Besides. Running and hiding? I think I’ve done that long enough.”
“What can I do?” he asked.
She offered up her hand. “Keep me grounded.”
He hesitated, his fingers curled away from her even as his palm hovered above. “Eunny…”
She reached out to graze her fingertips across his cheek. “I remembered. Nev, you didn’t make me lose control. Menders tap into others’ light all the time in practice.”
His head bowed. “The seeds were in my pocket when I reached out. If I hadn’t done that, we never would’ve triggered the imprinting spell. It’s my fault.”
Eunny cupped his face between her hands. “It’s not. Neither of us could’ve known.” When his gaze remained downcast, she gave him a small shake. “I forgive you, Nev, okay? Can you accept that?”
Ollas turned his head so he could press a kiss against the palm of her hand. “If you can accept mine.”
“Deal.” Eunny took a step back and offered her hand again. “Ready?”
Ollas laced his fingers through hers. “Yes, but I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do.”
“You’re the grovetender, Professor. If you notice me going off into the weeds, do something teacherly.”
Eunny reached for a thread of her light, mentally taking hold against the increasingly familiar pull as the magic tried to reach for the cutting. She gently rubbed one of the cutting’s leaves between her thumb and forefinger, letting her magic go. The glowing line of light coursed from her fingers into the glossy green leaf, filling the stems and branches as it followed the pull down into the soil. The veining in the leaves went from a flickery shine to a blaze of gold.
Eunny tensed as her flow of magic surged. Panic welled up as she fought the plant for control, instinctively resisting the pull.
“It’s okay,” Ollas murmured. “It needs the energy. Just don’t let it boss you around.”
She exhaled, her breath coming in long and shaky gasps, but she let more of her power go in a steady stream. She kept her mental touch firm but not restrictive as the cutting drank up their magic. She could feel the plant filling, magic accumulating within it as if the plant was a vessel. It left her with a vague yet satisfying impression, as if the veins of each leaf, once sufficiently filled, dropped to the back of her awareness like boxes ticked on a checklist.
When the last leaf was full, the flow of magic abruptly reversed. A strange current zipped back up to burst along Eunny and Ollas’s joined hands. Eunny yelped, more out of surprise than actual pain from the shock, but she dropped Ollas’s hand as she jumped back.
“Nev!” she immediately ran her hands over him, across his face, down his chest, questing out with her magic for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”
He laughed, catching her hands and dropping his head to give her a reassuring kiss. “Yes. I’m fine, love.”
“What the fuck was that?” she asked, frowning at her hand and shaking it to remove the phantom tingle from being shocked.
“I think it’s the imprinting spell.” Ollas peered intently at his hand, calling up a weak spark of his own magic as he probed one of the leaves. “The way the spellwork was laid into the plant… I’ve never seen anything like it. We don’t apply enchantments like that here.”
They both looked down at the pot. The plant hadn’t grown up so much as out, its leaves so thick they almost looked swollen. It burst with dozens of deep pink buds the size of her thumbnail.
Eunny puffed her cheeks out. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was hoping for a bit more drama. Fit the mood.”
Ollas snorted, kissing her again before gesturing toward the plant. “Look at the buds.”
The tightly furled, immature blooms were lit from within, the intensity wavering with tiny pulses like a heartbeat.
She nudged one with a glowing fingertip. It didn’t grow, but it and the other blossoms hummed in response. She could sense traces of her and Ollas’s magic in each bud. The nascent bloom’s essence had a malleable quality, a sponge-like feeling to her magic, eager to absorb. The pulling sensation she’d been resisting for months, the feeling of restless certainty, emanated from each tiny flower-to-be. When she fed in just a drop of her magic, the bud immediately sucked it up. This time, unlike when she’d tested the handful of seeds six years ago, she felt a soft plucking motion at the edge of her mind, as if the bud was incomplete.
“They’re Eyllic,” she murmured.
