Gently, Eunny tilted her palm until the seeds could fall into the shallow hole Ollas had made. They landed with minute tremors, disappearing as Ollas smoothed soil back over the top. Watering them in would’ve been ideal, but the ground was wet enough, and it would only be a matter of hours before the next rain shower came through.
As they dusted off their hands, a faint puff of white sparks drifted up from the ground. A soft pulse beat at Ollas’s temple, just once, but enough that memory stirred. The old calling that had been with him since the summer echoed in his head before fading away.
A glance at Eunny confirmed that she’d felt the same thing. She scrunched her nose at him in mock disgruntlement. “Guess it thought we needed the reminder that we’re in this for the long haul.”
A gust of wind scattered the sparks throughout the air, carrying them up toward the treetops. Eunny and Ollas watched until the sparks were lost to sight.
“Think it was wrong to waste two here when we’re about to leave?” she asked.
Ollas shook his head. “Now a little of them is here, and the main seeds are going to Rhell. Doesn’t get more fitting than that.” He helped her to her feet, one hand smoothing her hair from her face. “Feel ready for a new journey?”
Eunny laughed. She took him by the hand and tugged him back toward the road. “Almost. There’s one last goodbye.” A wicked gleam twinkled in her eyes. “And I want to hear the final judgment for my mother.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The feeling of cold metal against her bare skin made a shiver run down Eunny’s spine. She ignored it. Fingers wrapped around the blades to keep them firmly closed, she offered the small shears to Gransen, handle first.
“Honor’s all yours,” she said, wiggling the handle when Gransen could only stare at her. “Granse. Manage.”
He startled, a grin breaking across his face. “Can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Me either, believe me,” she grumbled. A wry smile threatened to ruin her cool façade. “Go on. You deserve it.”
Taking the shears, Gransen set the open edge against the plain woven ribbon. It was still a little stained at the edges, but several washes—not to mention a dye bath to turn it from grubby beige to a deep red—had gotten rid of the musty smell. And what better than a reclaimed and repaired ribbon to commemorate the grand reopening of Song’s Scrap?
With a hearty snip, the shears cut through the ribbon, and the two halves fluttered to the ground. A cheer went up from the crowd gathered in the street. Gransen flung open the new double doors, giving a dramatic bow as he cried, “Song’s Scrap is officially open for business!”
Eunny stepped back, parking herself off to the side of the entryway. She nodded and murmured thanks to the townsfolk; those she was friendly with stopped by for a quick word. She’d been surprised to find a few dozen folks attending the repair café’s opening but had figured most were just there out of communal goodwill or idle curiosity. Winter in Sylvan was relatively slow outside of Winterfest activities, and they still had a few blessed weeks of quiet before the holiday machine started up. Now that the ribbon was cut, Eunny assumed people would opt for food and drink at the Mighty Leaf.
Many did, but to her surprise, a good many did not, instead shuffling through the repair café’s doors. Some clutched their own items, intent on making use of the café’s services. Terryl Nevin led a small group of her fellow library staff, their hands full with assorted sewing and other needlework projects.
Terryl swept Eunny up in a hug, murmuring in her ear, “Olly’s in line at the teashop,” before following her colleagues to the main table by the window.
Several people, mostly visitors, merely went in to see what the café had to offer, politely nodding in greeting as they went past. Eunny looked to the side, where the salvaged metal sign hung once more from the roof. A new, smaller one had been added underneath, announcing Song’s Scrap, Owner—Eunny Song, Managed by Gransen Mast.
“It looks good. Legitimate,” Dae said, coming up beside Eunny.
Calya and Zhenya joined them. “Who knew this heap could clean up so nice,” Calya added.
Eunny scoffed, bumping the younger woman with her shoulder.
“Is that any way to treat an ally?” Calya groused when, by trying to escape, she stepped in a puddle. Perhaps the brief gust of wind that kicked up on what was otherwise a calm day had helped. “This place hates me. I’m leaving soon enough, okay?” she said in exasperation to the sky.
“Are you okay, though?” Eunny asked, voice lowering.
“No, now my feet are wet for my nausea-inducing ride home.”
Dae sighed. “Caly.”
Calya gave an indifferent shrug. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Don’t get into shit with the Coalition on my account,” Eunny said.
“Bit late for that, isn’t it?”
“Then fix it. Apologize. I can try and?—”
Calya dismissed Eunny’s words with a wave of her hand. “No. They have no legal quarrel with me.” Her lips spread with a predator’s smile. “Besides, it’s good for the Coalition to know not every business in Graelynd will be cowed by them.”
