The Enchanted Greenhouse(28)

“They wanted to make an example of me,” Terlu said, “and so they sentenced me to be transformed into a statue. There was to be no reprieve.” In the spaces between words, she could still hear the drums that sounded after her sentence had been announced. She imagined she’d be hearing those drums echoing inside her for the rest of her life.

“But I was sent the spell to revive you,” Yarrow said.

“Luckily for me, not everyone agreed with my sentence.” Holding up the letter, she showed him the seal and the signature. Lotti hopped closer to see too. “It’s signed by the head librarian at the Great Library of Alyssium, the woman who defended me at my trial. I don’t know how, but somehow she got your letter and thought I…”

“‘I hope to provide a solution to multiple problems at once,’” Yarrow read.

Lotti gave a high-pitched shriek. “You know the spell to wake them!”

Terlu shook her head. “I don’t.” She’d cast a spell to create a sentient plant, not wake one. “And even if I did, I can’t cast it. I can’t … I can’t face that again. You don’t know what it was like. The silence. The helplessness. The loneliness.” Please don’t ask me to. Except that she had already been asked, indirectly at least, by the one woman who had shown her kindness during the nightmare of her trial—the woman who had saved her.

“We wouldn’t ask you to do something you don’t want to do,” Yarrow said.

“You wouldn’t,” Lotti said in a growl. “I would.”

The mere act of telling them what she’d done and what she could do was almost akin to volunteering, but still … She felt as if she had a lump the size of a fist in her throat. It was hard to swallow, hard to breathe. The drums in her head were as loud as they’d ever been.

“You could cast it,” the rose said, “but you won’t. Coward. These plants are innocent.”

Terlu flinched. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, but … “If I’m caught…” She closed her eyes. It was far too easy to remember how it felt, without a breath, without a heartbeat, without a voice. A solution to multiple problems at once. The words echoed in her head.

“You won’t be caught,” Yarrow said.

“You don’t know that.” Terlu opened her eyes again. He had moved, stopping inches in front of her. She had to tilt her head up to look at his face—his eyes earnest, his lips soft. She read sympathy, understanding, maybe resolve, but not pity. He has a kind face, she thought.

“I do,” Yarrow said. His hands twitched as if he wanted to touch her, but he didn’t. He kept his arms by his side. “There’s no one here. Just me. And Lotti. There’s no one but us on all of Belde. You’re safe.”

“We’d never, ever betray you if you do this!” Lotti cried. “They’d have to pry it out of me with a hand trowel! No, with pruning shears. Please, Terlu Perna. Without Laiken…” Her voice broke. “Please, these plants are all the family I have left. Please, wake them.”

“I…” She looked at Lotti, at Yarrow, and then at the letter from Rijes Velk, the woman she most trusted and admired in all the Crescent Islands Empire. It was clear what they wanted her to do. The words of the letter were louder than the remembered drumbeats.

“Please, Terlu,” Lotti said. “Without them, I’m alone.”

Terlu raised her eyes to gaze at the plants—asleep, silent, and drifting in and out of nothingness, like she had been. She knew what that was like, to be held in a prison within your own body, alive but unable to live. “I don’t know the exact spell—waking a sentient plant is a different task than creating one—but I would recognize it if I saw it, for example in a sorcerer’s workroom.”

“And once you saw it?” Yarrow asked.

She met his green, hope-filled eyes. “Once I have the words … I can cast it.”

* * *

It was past sunset when they reached the late sorcerer’s tower. Inside, it was shrouded in shadows until Yarrow lit the lanterns that hung from hooks on the wall. He placed a few on the worktable as well. Soon a warm amber light spread across the table, desk, and shelves. It was still chilly but not as shadowy.

“Where do you want to begin?” Yarrow asked.

Just inside the workroom, Terlu froze for an instant—it was a simple question, but he said it with such trust that, for a heartbeat, she forgot to breathe. He trusts me.

Cradled in Terlu’s hands, Lotti piped up. “How about we begin by putting me down?”

“Right. Of course.” Terlu set Lotti down on the worktable.

The little rose waddled over to one of the jars, examining herself in the reflection. “Ooh, I’m looking nice and prickly.” She twisted to view her leaves from another angle.

“You look great,” Terlu told her.

Lotti sniffed. “Obviously.”

The workroom, on the other hand, did not look great.

Terlu unbuttoned her coat, then shivered as she scanned the room with her hands on her hips. It wasn’t as cold as the outside, but it was close. Now … where to begin? The desk? The shelves? Maybe she should start with the worktable, since it held the sorcerer’s in-progress experiments? Or maybe she should start upstairs in the sorcerer’s living quarters?