Yet, when she called, her magic answered, just as it once had. Maybe not with the same force, but it traveled pathways the latent edges of her mind still remembered.
The remaining immature blossoms, only a trio or so left amongst the dark green leaves, began to swell. Tugging Ollas’s magic along, Eunny cupped one of the buds between their palms. A velvety softness brushed against her skin. She lowered her hand so as not to inhibit the large, frilly, pink-and-red bloom. It kept spreading, rows of petals unfolding in a circular motion, wrinkling, and shriveling back as a new row opened in the center. The flower got to the size of Eunny’s palm before the bloom withered a final time, sinking inward, its petals browning as they curled up.
Ollas carefully pulled the spent petals away to reveal a bulbous, green pod.
“I thought there were supposed to be—” A surprised squeak that was not at all embarrassing came out of her when Ollas broke the pod open to reveal— “Seeds.”
“It’s not too late.” Their gazes locked. “I don’t think we’ve triggered the imprinting spell yet. We could give these to Ezzyn and Dae. They could take them to Rhell and you wouldn’t have to bind yourself to them.”
Eunny jerked her thumb toward the vine-covered door, where they could hear faint hacking and chopping. “Not leaving anything to chance. But if you want out, I won’t stop you.”
Ollas laughed, bending to give her a quick kiss. “Never.”
“Good.”
Eunny fed drops of their intertwined magic into the seeds, sighing with relief as she felt the minute pull of each of the over a dozen seeds drinking in some light. They vibrated briefly in her hand, attempting to pull more magic from their fingertips. Ollas’s supply, always weak and flickery, petered out.
Panic fluttered in Eunny’s belly. Her magic wavered as the reflex to shut it down, to rip out any semblance of the arcane from her mind and bury it beneath fear and denial and shame, roared through her head.
But those were the rash thoughts of Old Eunny. The woman who was content to run from her magic and convinced herself that that would be enough. That she could be happy with a mundane life.
Ollas gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Concentrating on the warmth of his palm against hers, the steadiness of his grip, Eunny exhaled with a measured breath.
Finally, she broke off her connection to the seeds.
They buzzed one last time, then went still. A tentative brush with just a whisper of her magic didn’t cause them to stir. Eunny didn’t get an impression of anything arcane in them at all.
The plant shuddered, its once-emerald leaves rapidly shriveling as they twisted and turned brown. The few remaining buds wrinkled and fell to the ground, their deep pink fading to a dusty taupe. Within seconds, the once-vibrant mini shrub was a withered husk of its former self.
Eunny glanced at Ollas, shoulders bobbing in a shrug. “That was close.” She cupped the fresh seeds in her palm. Their brown shells had a deep, satiny shine. “I think it worked. They feel dormant or something.”
“No!” Through a fist-sized hole in the vines, Bioon glared at them. “You wretched girl?—”
In the distance, a horn call rang through the air. Ollas turned, peering through the misted glass of the antechamber’s walls. “That’s a Sentinel horn.”
Bioon disappeared from the doorway.
Eunny leaned against the rack, sliding the new seeds into a discarded vial left near the door. She stared at the bedlam of the antechamber, the bits of vine and broken glass carpeting the floor. A laugh bubbled up in her throat. It came out maybe a tad hysterical, but she didn’t care. She laughed anyway, knees going weak as adrenaline was replaced by fatigue and heady relief.
Ollas rubbed his sleeve against the smudged glass, not that it did much good. “I think I can see the others.”
“That’s wonderful. Get over here.”
He glanced back at her. “Eh?”
He started to ask something, probably to see if she was okay, because he was kind and thoughtful like that—sweet words Eunny would never know, because they were lost to the depths of her mouth as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him closer.
“Thank you,” she murmured against his lips.
Ollas wrapped his arms around her. “Anything for my goddess.”
“Anything?” Eunny drawled. “Goodness. What’s a deity to do with so much power?”
His fingers kneaded her back, finding knots the excitement of the morning—gods all break, it was still only morning—had blissfully let her forget. “I can think of a few things,” he said, lips traveling from her mouth to her neck.
“You and your greenhouse kink.” Eunny’s head tipped back. “I like?—”
