Yarrow bent over her to look at the page. She felt his warm breath on her cheek. His breath smelled like sugary chocolate. “So, you’re saying they’re in an enchanted sleep?”
“Essentially, yes,” Terlu said. “I’ve identified the spell he used, and, I think, the counterspell, though he never tested it so I don’t know if—”
Lotti flapped her leaves in alarm. “Youthink? You don’tknow? And what do you mean ‘he never tested it’? Does that mean you’d be trying a new untested spell on my friends? What if you make it worse?”
She’d thought about that. “There isn’t much worse than the not-life they’re in.”
“How do you know what they’re—oh.” Lotti closed her petals into a bud, this time in embarrassment. “Sorry. I forgot. Your statue phase. It’s just… What if the spell goes wrong?”
Statue phase.What a way to describe her lost years.
“It’s a risk,” Terlu said. She looked at Yarrow, into his deep-as-the-sea eyes. He was so close that she felt like she could see every emotion within him: hope, fear, pity, pain, sorrow—but what won was hope. “I could try this, and the plants might die. Or transform. There are a thousand ways a spell can go wrong. It’s why the emperor made it illegal for anyone but a trained and approved sorcerer to work magic. But I’ve been studying this spell. I understand what the words are doing.” It was all about the language—the syllables conveyed the intent, and the sentences executed the command. That’s what magic was: words that brought thought to life. And Terlu was very, very good with words—or at least with words like this. Shecouldn’t guarantee that the right ones were going to come out of her mouth in a random conversation, but this…thisshe felt confident about. Mostly confident. Pretty confident.
“I trust you,” Yarrow said.
That was the most beautiful sentence she’d ever heard anyone utter.
Blushing magenta, Terlu turned back to the page. “It requires specific ingredients.” She showed him the list she’d made: an apple blossom bud, an acorn that hadn’t sprouted, pollen from a daffodil, as well as another half-dozen plant-based items that she was only half-certain she knew what they were, but one hundred percent certain that Yarrow did.
“Got it.”
For anyone else, anywhereelse, it wouldn’t have been possible, especially in winter, but for Yarrow, in this place… She wondered if that was why the sorcerer had created the greenhouse in the first place, to have access to anything he’d need for his spells.I don’t think so.From his notes, he didn’t seem to have been amassing power for any other purpose than tending the plants, but if he’d wanted to… Perhaps that was what had made him so paranoid, knowledge of what other sorcerers could do with these resources if they had access to them. She wondered if the emperor had known what a jewel was hidden away here. Had Rijes Velk realized how valuable this place was when she decided to answer Yarrow’s letter? Or had she just seen a problem that required a solution?
So many wonderful spells could be cast with the plants on this island. Had Laiken ever paused to consider thegoodthat he could have done if he’d opened his greenhouses to the world, instead of trying so hard to isolate them?
She supposed that was the question: How much did you trust people to do the right thing?
Yarrow trusts me.
She wasn’t going to let him down.
“I’ll have all of this within an hour,” Yarrow promised, taking theingredient list. He nodded at the mug. “Drink your chocolate before it chills.”
Less than an hour later, the three of them met by the shelves of sleeping plants.Enchanted sleep,Terlu thought.It sounds kinder than statue-ified, but is it?She doubted it. She wondered if they dreamed and, if so, what plants dreamed about. She only remembered her dreams in fragments—each filled with all that she’d lost.
Yarrow set down a basket, and Lotti leaped into it. She began tossing ingredients over the side onto the walkway. “We’ll need enough to fix everyone,” she declared.
Sitting cross-legged beside the basket, Terlu sorted through the ingredients. “Yes, but I think we should start with just one. In case it doesn’t work.”
“It’ll work,” Yarrow said.
Picking up a branch with berries on it, Terlu examined it. The spell hadn’t specified how many white-cloud berries, but this would do. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m not a sorcerer, and this is an untried spell. For all I know, it could turn plants into ducks.”
“Gah!” Lotti said. “No ducks.” She shuddered, all her petals vibrating, and added darkly, “Had a bad experience with a mallard once.”
“Youarea sorcerer,” Yarrow said to Terlu.
She shook her head. They’d been through this, and she’d thought she’d been very clear: she wasn’t the person he’d hoped she was. She tried not to let it hurt that he wished she was someone else.
“A self-taught sorcerer,” he amended. “You learned the language. You studied the texts. Yes, you did it without official sorcerous training, but just because it wasn’t all formal doesn’t mean you didn’t learn. Tell me: When you cast the spell that created your spider-plant friend, did it work?”
It did. First try. “Only because I’d prepared… All right, point taken, but I still think it’s wiser to start with one plant, if only because then we can greet them and acclimate them one by one. It’ll be a lot if we wake them all at the same time.” She knew how shaken she’d been when she was revived. “I don’t want to cause them any distress.”
He shrugged. “I just think you shouldn’t undervalue yourself.”
She opened then closed her mouth. “Thanks.” He didn’t say much, but when he did, his words hit her right in the heart.
Lotti flapped her leaves at them. “Enough with the mushiness! We’ve plants to save!”
