The Enchanted Greenhouse(23)

“Hmm.” It was a noncommittal noise, but better than silence.

Encouraged, Terlu asked, “You mentioned you have a sister?” He could try thinking of her like a sister, unless he didn’t like her. Did he have fond memories of her?

“Mmm.” He crossed to the kitchen. “Do you like zucchini?”

“What?”

“Zucchini.” He glanced over his shoulder at her hopefully. “Also called courgette or baby marrow. It’s a kind of summer squash that’s edible if you harvest them when the seeds are immature. I like them roasted with black pepper.”

She’d never had zucchini before. She’d also never encountered such an abrupt subject change. But if he didn’t want to talk about his sister, that was fine. She wasn’t going to push. “Sounds delicious. Can you grow vegetables year-round here?”

He brightened at the question. “There are four greenhouses devoted to edible plants, and they’re each kept in a different season so that there is always one ready to harvest.” He talked as he sliced zucchini, which looked like matte-green cucumbers to her. “There’s also one greenhouse devoted exclusively to tomatoes, which are technically classified as fruit, despite their treatment in recipes.”

“A whole greenhouse of only tomatoes?” It wasn’t what she wanted to talk about, but she was happy that he was talking. He grew twice as animated when he was talking about his garden, his normally deep and gruff voice growing more excited. It was, frankly, adorable.

“Yes! They’re sorted by shape: globe, beefsteak, cherry, grape, plum, and oxheart, as well as whether they’re bush tomatoes or vining. We have every variety in the Crescent Islands Empire, which is three thousand seven hundred six. One of my cousins used to be able to identify the exact type of tomato by taste alone.”

He had the most soothing voice she’d ever heard. Combined with the soft crackle of the fire and the warmth seeping into her, she felt all the muscles that had knotted up begin to unwind. She had to remind herself there was still a plethora of questions she needed him to answer. Otherwise, Terlu could have listened to him talk about tomatoes for hours. “Did that cousin live in one of the cottages too?”

“The round toadstool-like one, with his parents.” He fell silent. He continued to slice zucchini, then laid out the medallions in a dish with a dollop of oil. Over on the bed, Emeral stretched, pushing at the pillows with his paws and arching his back.

Terlu waited to see if Yarrow would say more.

He didn’t.

She pushed a little more. “When did they leave? Your family?”

“I was a kid when the sorcerer dismissed my cousin’s family,” Yarrow said.

Okay. So, a while ago. “And where did they go, after they left?”

“I heard they settled in Alyssium eventually, and Aunt Rin opened a florist shop that caters to nobles—my aunt wrote to my father a few times.” He didn’t look at her while he spoke. He focused only on the food, slicing tomatoes to lay on top of the zucchini.

“A florist shop sounds lovely.”

He grunted and glanced at her. His eyes, she noticed, were as green as the zucchini. And he’d shaved, which made his cheeks look soft. His black-and-gold hair was tied back with a gold ribbon, and it occurred to her to wonder if he’d made an effort for her. No, she thought, he’s just a neat and orderly person.

“What about the others?” she asked. “From the other cottages?”

He returned to his tomatoes before he answered. “A season later, Laiken dismissed Uncle Rorick, Finnel, and Percik, and they joined Aunt Rin’s family in Alyssium.”

Laiken—that was the name of the sorcerer who the rose was looking for. I shouldn’t have left her. “Why did he do it?” Terlu asked. “The sorcerer, I mean. Why did he send your family away?” She kept her voice soft and gentle, so as not to startle him back into silence again. It felt like trying to lure a feral cat to her hand. She was grateful for every tidbit of himself he shared with her.

He slid the dish of zucchini into the brick oven. “Said we didn’t need so many gardeners running around the place. By the time he died, it was just my father and me.”

She hadn’t seen his father or any hint he was still here. Had he died too? How did she ask that? How long ago? “Your father…”

“He left too.” Returning to the kitchen counter, he began to make a salad, chopping a fresh head of lettuce and dumping the leaves into a bowl.

At least his father hadn’t died. She breathed easier. Still, though … “He left you? When? Why?” She knew she was being too nosy. Any second now, he was going to clam up and quit answering. But she wanted to know more about him, her rescuer.

“He was sick.” Yarrow shrugged. He added a handful of red berries to the salad, followed by a handful of shelled sunflower seeds. “No doctors here.”

That must have been incredibly hard, both for Yarrow and his father. She tried to imagine what it was like, to send your sick father away not knowing if he’d recover and to stay behind on an abandoned island not knowing if you’d survive. How long had Yarrow been alone? “When was that?”

He was quiet for a moment, and she wasn’t sure he was going to answer. While the silence stretched, he mixed herbs with oil before pouring the freshly made dressing onto the salad. “About two years ago.”