The Enchanted Greenhouse(70)

“No, no, not the enchanted musical ones. They’re great. It’s the others, the ones like me. They’re trying to sing with them, and they’re terrible. Well, not Dendy, he’s fine, but the others!”

Yarrow grunted. “That’s hardly an emergency.”

Lotti flopped dramatically onto the wood floor. “It is to me. My ears!”

“Do you have ears?” Terlu asked, curiously. She hadn’t inspected Lotti’s petals up close to see if she was formed different from other non-talking plants. As far as Terlu could tell, Lotti didn’t have ears or eyes or a nose or a mouth. Her petals moved when she spoke, but not because they were lips. Perhaps because of the vibration in the air? Terlu very deliberately didn’t look at Yarrow again, even though he was fully dressed now.

Lotti waved her leaves in the air dramatically. “Obviously not, but I do have perfect pitch, which the vast majority of my fellow sentient plants do not have.”

Frowning, Terlu tried to remember the exact words of the spell that created Caz. It could have been all wrapped up in the word “ansara,” which had the root word for “life,” but it wasn’t life as in breathing and existing—that was linked with rwyr—it was connected with experiencing life … If the magic translated that as experiencing the five senses …

“What do you want me to do about it?” Yarrow asked mildly.

“Take me with you today,” Lotti begged. “I told the others that you need my help with the magic. Please, Terlu, let me help you with the spells. I’ll do anything. Sort ingredients. Prop up your notes. Sit quietly in the corner and pretend to be invisible. Whatever you need.”

Terlu glanced at Yarrow to see what he thought, but he looked to be waiting for her to decide, as if her opinion mattered more than his. He cares what I think. Values it. She couldn’t think of anyone else who had ever—

“Ooh, wait—am I interrupting something?” Lotti asked. She hopped forward and plopped herself down in front of them both. She folded her leaves as if they were multiple hands clasped in front of her bud. “What did I miss? Come on, details.”

Terlu felt herself blush furiously. “Not at all, and nothing.” Focus, Terlu Perna. She’d wanted no plants with them in case anything went wrong, but today she was planning on experimenting with a much smaller, more focused kind of spellwork. Maybe it was okay? It wasn’t as if she needed to be alone with Yarrow for any reason … “I thought you’d want to spend time with the other sentient plants, at least the ones who aren’t singing. Why do you really want to come with us?”

Lotti’s petals drooped. “They … They don’t understand that I miss Laiken. For them … it’s different for them. He was different with them. And I … just need a little break.”

Terlu wanted to give her a hug. No matter what kind of man Laiken had been, what problems and flaws he had, he’d still been important to Lotti. Of course she’d miss him. “If you promise to be silent when I’m casting the spell…”

“I can be silent! Silent as a mouse, which is an odd expression since mice squeak and chitter and have those scratching paws when they—”

“Let me just get dressed, and then we can go.” Terlu stepped into the bathroom to wash and change into a sturdy wool skirt and blouse. She took an extra minute to take a deep breath and convince her cheeks to quit blushing such a vibrant pink. It was just a kiss, she told herself firmly. It probably won’t even happen again.

When she came out, Lotti was still talking, describing the melodies of her fellow plants in tones of horror. Apparently, some were trying to add lyrics to the singing plants’ music, and the rhymes were unbearable.

Terlu pulled on her shoes and coat. She took the spell she’d worked on the night before. It was short—only three lines long—and it was entirely possible that it wouldn’t work at all, now that it had been excised from the context of the larger enchanted-greenhouse-creation spell, in which case, Lotti would be in no danger at all.

“Carry me,” Lotti ordered, and Terlu picked her up.

“Can we also bring a mortar and pestle?” Terlu asked Yarrow. “I think we should mash the ingredients into a paste this time. If I’m doing smaller magic, it will need to be directed.” Or at least that was her current theory, which seemed to match her recent experience.

He took a mortar and pestle from his kitchen supplies and added it to the basket of spell ingredients. He then handed her one of the leftover rolls from dinner the night before. “Breakfast?”

“Thank you.” Their fingers brushed as she took the roll, and she stared at their hands for a moment—his golden and hers lavender—and wondered if he felt what she felt, but by the time she looked up at his face, he’d turned away and was opening the door.

Outside, the morning air was crisp and smelled like the sea.

“Did you want to, um, talk? About earlier?” Yarrow asked.

In front of Lotti? “Later? Maybe?” Or not at all. If he was going to talk about how it was a mistake, then she’d rather the silence, at least for now, at least until the feeling of his mouth on hers faded from her lips.

“Good,” Yarrow said.

They kept walking.

“I could handle the singing until the rhyming started,” Lotti continued to complain. “Do you have any idea how many words rhyme with ‘blue’？ So many. So very many.”