Vines dropped from the ceiling, latching on to the door.
One landed on the guard’s arm, startling a yell from him. Everywhere the vines made fresh contact, they sent out aerial roots, digging into wood, grasping every surface. The guard cursed, fighting to extract his arm from the roots.
A vine brushed against Eunny’s sleeve, immediately catching the fabric. She yelped, trying to jerk her arm back. Ollas grabbed the vine with one hand and Eunny with the other, desperation granting him one more tiny spark of light. The vine let go, the new greenish roots loosening as they wavered in the air, searching for new purchase.
Ollas hauled Eunny back until they were clear of the vines wriggling in the air.
“What did you do?” she whisper-shouted.
“I think it’s protecting the greenhouse,” he replied, awestruck as more vines fell across the broken window, slowly creating a barrier of thick, tough stems.
“What happened to plants not being sentient enough for malice?”
“Most. I said most.”
On the other side of the living wall, Bioon could be heard yelling at the guards to find axes. Ollas tried to listen—better to have an idea of their next move—but a strange hum built in his ears. The hairs on his nape prickled as a phantom hand all but pushed him toward the potted plant still clutched in Eunny’s hands.
The hum shifted, became more of a ringing sound that grew louder with each pulse of his heart. Not sweet and bell-like but an unpleasant, sheer noise that sent minute vibrations coursing down his body. His inner sphere of light, though weak, popped and fizzed in response, causing erratic blips of magic to flare at his fingertips.
“Eunny, the bloom cycle.” Ollas drew her back to the antechamber’s far corner. “I don’t think we have much time. You’re going to need to give it a push.” He cleared a space for her pot on the upper rack.
Eunny set it down, a sad smile on her face as she gave one of the pink buds a gentle pat. “I don’t know if I have enough magic left.”
“I can guide you. I think. If you’ll let me,” he murmured. “Just enough for the transfer, then I’ll drop off and?—”
“No.” Eunny bit her lip, indecision in her eyes. Slowly, she held her hand out to him. “It imprinted on both of us. I think it needs the both of us. Can you feel it?”
Ollas touched one of the leaves, eyes closing as a flicker of his light eagerly shot into the plant. A certain tension seeped into the air, seemed to wrap around the plant and cause its leaves to curl at the edges. A pressure built in Ollas’s head.
“The imprinting spell,” he said.
“Nev, you’ll probably be tied to these again until we figure out how to pass it on or break it or whatever,” Eunny murmured. “It could be years, if we’re stuck with this bloom cycle thing. It’ll definitely complicate things for your teaching.”
Bioon’s threats of pressing charges and costing Ollas his job lingered at the back of his mind. Even if she was bluffing, Eunny was probably right; he’d be locked in for whatever the seeds entailed. His grand return to Sylveren and teaching again would be disrupted, and he hadn’t even been back a full year.
But he wouldn’t be in it alone.
“I choose you, remember?” Ollas took her hand. “Every time.”
Trust didn’t come easily for Eunny. Not with a mother like she had. Some of that was on her. She trusted so few, and even those people, she barely let them in. She let in Dae and Zhenya. Trusted them, loved them. They were her family and would protect her if she let them. She had in some ways. But in other ways, maybe she didn’t because it had never felt quite right.
With Ollas, those subconscious barriers fell away. He was safe. Everything about him: the warmth of his hand in hers, the sputtery little drop that was his magic, the sensation in Eunny’s mind when her magic curled around his and coaxed it to join; all of it came together in her mind. The prospect of giving him such intimate access, something far more profound than just her body—for once, Eunny didn’t feel any trepidation. Didn’t feel any guilt for handing over this part of herself. Didn’t feel any guilt over being willing to bond, with all of the joys and burdens it entailed.
She was making Ollas responsible, at least in part, for whatever actions her magic wrought, good and bad. And she didn’t feel the least bit anxious about it.
Maybe that was love—feeling comfortable enough with someone that you gave them some of your mess. It was the height of intimacy. Or selfishness. She could concede the point either way.
Warmth gathered in their clasped hands as licks of Ollas’s light burbled up to meet Eunny’s. Their magic intertwined, settling around the cutting’s leaves as she let their magic flow. He reached with his free hand to brush against a leaf. His fingers twitched reflexively, then dug into the soil.
With Ollas’s magic spiraling around hers, Eunny followed suit, letting her palm settle atop the dirt as she urged a drop of her magic to bead at her fingertip. Ollas gave it a mental nudge, and the magic wicked through the substrate and spread through the branches in a glowing line to enter each unopened bud.
Eunny gasped. One by one, the dim glow in multiple buds went out. Snuffed like candles. Only, instead of a curl of smoke, they put out a wisp of golden light that hovered in the air as the little nubs dropped to the ground.
“Gently,” Ollas murmured.
Together, they collected the tendrils of light with their joined hands, Eunny extending her index finger to catch each one. The wisps stuck to her skin, as fine as spider’s silk. Ollas guided her hand to the base of the plant. With the help of Eunny’s magic, he urged each strand to sink into the dirt. She poured more of her magic into the ground, reaching for whatever dregs she had left. Just as she had six years ago.
Except she wasn’t alone this time. She didn’t feel wobbles in her control. Exhaustion, yes, and a tingle of her old fear, too. That part hadn’t completely left her.
