The Enchanted Greenhouse(24)

That was too long to live alone. Even with the company of a winged cat. Her heart went out to him, and she wished she dared reach out and hug him. “None of them came back to check on you? Or just to visit?”

He shrugged and set the salad on the table. He did it all with such smoothness that until it was on the table in front of her, she didn’t realize it was the fanciest and freshest salad she’d ever been served.

“But you can’t care for this many greenhouses on your own.” She didn’t have to know about gardening to know it was too much work for one person, especially if the magic that kept the greenhouses intact was failing. “Have you told them—”

“Can we…” He ducked his head so he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “… not talk?”

Terlu felt her face flush. She shouldn’t have pushed. It wasn’t any of her business, and she barely knew him. She began to apologize. “I’m—”

A thwack sounded against the door.

The cat’s ears twitched forward, but otherwise he didn’t move.

“What was that?” Terlu asked.

He shrugged. He does that a lot, she thought. Shrugs and grunts seemed to be his favorite form of communication. It was a minor miracle she’d gotten so many words out of him. Not a miracle. A mistake. She should have waited until he was ready to open up to her. Her curiosity wasn’t more important than his comfort. She needed to be more patient and not—

Another thwack.

“Snow falling off the roof,” Yarrow said.

From outside, a voice screeched, “Let me in!”

Who was— Oh.

“I can explain,” Terlu began as Yarrow opened the door.

On the step, in the snow, the resurrection rose shivered. “Finally.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The rose hopped inside the cottage, using her leaves to propel her forward. Once she was on the mat, she shook like a dog, spattering bits of snow that melted into tiny puddles.

“Ahh…” Yarrow said, staring at her.

“You. Left. Me.” Lotti had a very piercing voice for a plant no larger than a fist.

Terlu wished she could sink into the floor. “I’m sorry. I panicked. I was going to come back.” Every word felt pathetic in her ears. She hung her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the winged cat was eyeing the little rose with interest. His tail flicked back and forth. Stepping in front of the cat to block his view, she murmured, “Emeral, don’t you dare.”

Yarrow’s mouth opened and closed and opened again. “How did— Who are—”

The little plant drew herself up taller, all three inches of her. She opened her purple petals wide. “I’m Lotti the Resurrection Rose, and I demand to see Laiken, Master Sorcerer and the Creator of the Glorious and Magnificent Greenhouse of Belde.”

The cat spread his wings and began to shift back and forth on his hind paws.

Yarrow shook his head and tried again. “What did you mean she left you? Where did you come from? How did you—”

Terlu jumped in quickly. “I didn’t create her. I know you aren’t going to believe me, but all I did was—” Before she could finish explaining to either Lotti or Yarrow, Emeral launched himself out of the bed, wings spread. Terlu tried to grab him, but he soared over her head, and her fingers merely brushed the tips of his feathers. On the floor, Lotti shrieked. Spinning around, Terlu dove for her, hoping to reach her before—

Miscalculating, Terlu bumped into the side of the table. The pitcher of lilacs fell over, and water spilled across the table and onto the floor. Landing in the water, the cat skidded, his paws splaying out. He flapped his wings frantically, crashing into the desk and knocking the stack of papers over, while Lotti tried to scramble away from all of it.

After catching her balance, Terlu scooped Lotti into her hands. The little plant was sopping wet and also prickly. And not happy.

“You wake me, abandon me, and then let me be attacked by a monster? What kind of person are you?” Lotti was so furious that she was vibrating. She also seemed to be expanding—her leaves were plumper than they had been. The extra water was good for her, Terlu noted.

“He’s not a monster,” Terlu said. “He’s a cat.”

Yarrow was staring at her, the resurrection rose, the winged cat （who was licking his feathers on the hearth）， the puddle on the table and floor, and the mess of papers on his desk.

Terlu felt panic rising up in her throat. She shouldn’t have left Lotti. She should have tried to explain to Yarrow right away. Maybe he would have believed her if she had just taken a risk and trusted him. “I can explain.”

“I demand to be taken to Laiken right now,” Lotti said. “You obviously don’t know how to care for a plant.” She squirmed out of Terlu’s hands and landed on the table.

Flinching, Terlu felt as if she’d been slapped. She thought of Caz, her spider plant. She hadn’t been able to protect him either—he’d been taken from her as soon as what she’d done had been discovered. She’d seen him once at the trial, when he’d been presented as evidence, but she hadn’t even been allowed to speak with him, not even to say goodbye. I would’ve liked to have said goodbye. She’d begged the head librarian to make sure he was okay and that he had people who would make sure he wasn’t lonely and that he had the right kind of soil and that he watered himself often enough but not too often—Rijes Velk had promised she would, but had she? Was Caz safe? Was he happy? Did he miss her? I miss him. “You’re right,” Terlu said quietly.