“I’ve heard some species of sea turtles can live up to five hundred years,” Terlu said. “There’s an island—aptly named Turtle Island—where the oldest sea turtles come to lay their eggs every year without fail. Its inhabitants have a festival every year to celebrate when the eggs hatch, and they have all these amazing myths about the Great Turtle, Marzipul, who created the Crescent Islands, hatching them from eggs she—”
“Terlu.” He looked amused.
“The spell. Yes.” She looked down at the paper, then took a deep breath. She tried to think of the syllables and only that. It was easier when she was looking at the words. She’d always taken refuge in words whenever anything was difficult or confusing or too much. They were both her shelter and her shield.
Calmer, Terlu read the words of the spell.
Around them, the air shimmered, wavering like heat over a stovebut with colors in it: flecks of amber and emerald. She reached out a hand—it was so vivid that she felt like she could touch it. Yarrow caught her wrist. “You don’t know if it’s safe,” he said.
She withdrew. He continued to hold her wrist, softly, from behind her, his arm wrapped lightly around her waist. All around the greenhouse, the air undulated.
If Laiken were still alive, she would have had a very pointed discussion with him about his incomplete notes. When she’d finished airing her grievances, he could have described what a successful spell looked like versus a failed experiment so she’d know the difference.
The shimmering air began to form spheres. Soon, the greenhouse was filled with iridescent bubbles. They floated past Terlu and Yarrow. One rose to the ceiling and then popped. Others began to pop, a cascade of gentlepop, pop, pop.
“Not what I expected,” Terlu said.
Yarrow released her and rummaged through the basket for another set of ingredients, while Terlu walked through the array of bubbles. She touched one, and it popped. She smelled strawberries. She popped another and thought it smelled like citrus. “Yarrow, you have to try this.”
He paused, stood, and popped a bubble. “It smells like cinnamon.”
They strolled around the greenhouse, popping bubbles. “Ooh, this one… what’s this one?” She didn’t recognize it. It vanished nearly as quickly as the bubbles themselves, but Yarrow still leaned forward and sniffed.
“Anise.” He popped another. “Vanilla.”
“Love vanilla.”
“It’s a vining orchid,” Yarrow said. “Needs a warm climate—cold slows its growth. It takes three years before the plant begins to produce beans.”
“You should put your gardening knowledge in a book, preserve it for the next generation,” Terlu said. “Preferably not in code.”
He shrugged. “Not enough time.”
Maybe he would have enough time if she could fix the greenhouses. Or if he had more help. But she’d tried sending the letter, and she wasn’t sure what their next move was.
She wasn’t about to say it out loud, but she was grateful that none of his relatives had come back. Shedidwish they’d written so that Yarrow would know they were safe. She could tell he worried about them, even though he didn’t say the words out loud often. But she didn’t wish that they’d come. If a member of his family actually had showed up, she wasn’t sure how they’d have reacted to her trying (and failing) to fill the late sorcerer’s shoes.
There was no hiding this much magic.
Of course, that meant she’d need to come up with another solution to how to care for the massive Greenhouse of Belde. “Do you think you could train the sentient plants to become full-time gardeners?” They had helped with the dying greenhouse, and they were helping now with sealing the cracks in the glass in the already-failed greenhouses. She thought they’d be willing to do more.
“Only if they want to be trained,” Yarrow said. “They didn’t ask to be created. It should be their choice what they do with their lives.”
“Some of them might choose to help, if they were asked. Look at how eagerly they jumped to fix the glass.” Everyone wanted to have purpose, regardless of whether they were flora or fauna. “And for those who don’t want to… maybe they could be trained to be better singers.”
He laughed.
As soon as the ingredients were ready again, Terlu tried the next variant of the spell. She watched as the air shimmered again. This time, it coalesced around them into a large bubble.
“Better,” she said.
She walked to the edge and popped it. It dispersed around them into shards of tiny rainbows. A rain of rainbows. Glancing back at Yarrow, she saw the rainbow shards were clinging to him. Smiling, she crossed back to him. “You have a little—” She brushed a wiggle of rainbow off his cheek.
“So do you.” He knocked a puff of colorful cloud off her shoulder. It dissipated in the air. He flicked another away from her hair, and she shooed away more colorful wisps of air from his arm.
Laughing, she leaned forward and blew away a puff that lingered near his neck.
A flick of seriousness passed over his face, and she looked into his eyes to realize she was only inches from him again.
