Inside the greenhouse, in the lilac room, she met up with Lotti and Dendy, both of them sporting Rowan’s crocheted eyes. Dendy wore one on each of his largest leaves, while Lotti had affixed two tiny ones at the center of her petals. “You both look…” Terlu trailed off, not sure what adjective they were looking for.
“Amazing?” Lotti suggested.
“Yes, amazing,” Terlu said.
Dendy said, “I waaas goiiing for ‘absurd.’”
“That too,” Terlu agreed.
She strolled with them to the rose room, which was in the process of being transformed into a grand celebration hall. Birch and Rorick were shouting orders to their younger relatives, who were installing tables—newly made tables that they’d constructed from spare planks of wood the week prior. Ubri and Pipa were setting out a variety of chairs, all different sorts, around the tables. One of the new arrivals—Flick, a man with tawny fur and antlers—was arranging napkins, while Yarrow’s aunt Rin added bouquets of flowers in vasesevery few feet. Several of the sentient plants, including the myrtle-turned-sailor Ree, were stringing ribbons from the rafters, draping them in swooping bows, while a flock of miniature dragons perched nearby, nibbling at the ribbons and watching the excitement below.
In one corner, three of the residents who knew how to play instruments, led by Yarrow’s aunt Harvena, were setting up. For the meal, a chorus of singing flowers were going to be moved in to provide ambient music, but before and after, anyone who wanted to could take a turn performing. Terlu had volunteered to play as well—Vix, Yarrow’s cousin who liked to fish, had a six-string guitar she could borrow. She hadn’t practiced since coming to Belde—and had zero practice in her six years as a statue, of course—but no one seemed to care whether the music was good. Just that it didn’t stop.
When Terlu had woken alone in the cold snow, she hadn’t expected to be a part of a full-out Winter Feast celebration the very same season. She hadn’t expected any of what had happened. She supposed that was why today mattered so much to her: it was a day to celebrate the improbable light that now burned in the implacable darkness.
Lotti bounced past her, a ribbon trailing from her petals.
And it’s a day to celebrate a whole lot of plants,Terlu thought with a grin.
At noon, it began!
Everyone filled the rose greenhouse, and the voices and laughter reached the rafters where Emeral and the tiny dragons snacked on their favorite treats—the cat and dragons seemed to have agreed to a truce, along with the leafy mice, due to the abundance of food. The two children on the island, the toddler Epu and the son of the newest arrival, had become fast friends and were chasing each other around the greenhouse. Rowan had produced a flute and was playing an upbeat melody while Ambrel danced with Birch.
Yarrow was seated beside Terlu, and he seemed, miraculously, tobe enjoying himself, despite the cacophony of the crowd. On the other side of Terlu was Rijes, and she was clapping in rhythm with the music. Butterflies and dragonflies flittered overhead.
Everyone who could cook had cooked:
Carrots that tasted like candy. Asparagus coated in a creamy yellow sauce. Potatoes prepared six different ways—fried, roasted, baked, twice-baked, and cooked with cheese and with cream. Fish flavored with herbs that Terlu couldn’t even name but tasted beyond delicious. A few dishes weren’t her favorite, like the mussels in butter that Yarrow loved but reminded Terlu too much of slugs, but she loved the dish with squash cut into noodles mixed in a nut-flavored sauce, as well as a sweet carrot bread made by one of the uncles. And Yarrow had prepared her favorite, the layered zucchini, squash, and tomato dish he’d perfected.
They ate, they talked, they laughed, they sang, they told stories, and they danced.
Above the greenhouse, snow fell lightly as the shortest day of the year dipped toward nightfall. When desserts were brought out, everyone oohed and ahhed. Yarrow’s sugar glass with flavored roses was proclaimed the star, but there were also berry pies (Terlu contributed a blueberry pie) and cakes and cobblers and an amazing peach tart (Yarrow’s grandfather’s recipe). And of course, chocolate-covered oranges.
After so much food was eaten that everyone sagged in their chairs and proclaimed over and over that they’d never need to eat again, Terlu tapped Yarrow on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “What do you think?”
He whispered back, “It’s wonderful.”
“Are you ready to leave?” she asked.
“I love you,” he said.
She smiled. “I guessed that.”
Terlu held out her hand, and he took it. They excused themselves from the table, said thank you and happy solstice to everyone. It took them more than a few minutes before they had extricated themselvesand were strolling alone, hand in hand, through the greenhouses. She inhaled the delicate sweetness of springtime flowers.
“Were you really okay with today, all those people and plants in your greenhouse?” Terlu asked him, when they were far enough away from festivities that the music and the voices were only a pleasant hum. “Are you okay with all of us living here on Belde?” She hadn’t ever really asked him that. It had just sort of happened, and he hadn’t had any choice in it. His quiet life had been overturned, and she thought it was a good thing, but did he agree?
“It’s fine.”
“Really fine, or are you just saying that?”
Stopping beside a lilac, he turned and took both of her hands in his. “Since you came into my life…” He swallowed, and she thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to find the words, but then he did. Looking into her eyes, he continued. “I thought I was content to spend my life on Belde alone. I had a purpose, and I thought it was enough. You, though… You were unexpected.”
Terlu bit her lip to keep from asking if “unexpected” was good or not.
“You changed everything.”
She swallowed. Yes, she had.
