The Enchanted Greenhouse(83)

One of Yarrow’s aunts, Rin, a woman with faded tattoos of flowers on her cheeks, said, “We’ve enough for a few days. But don’t worry, my dear—we aren’t afraid of hard work. We’ll have the greenhouses up and producing in no time.”

The vegetable greenhouses were already producing fine for Yarrow without any outside intervention. She felt a trickle of unease. He wasn’t going to like all these people intruding on his space. On the other hand, he couldn’t do it all alone. The loss of the tropical greenhouse proved that. This will work out. She hoped.

“Birch, can you help with the fire?” Harvena, the emu-like aunt, called.

He hobbled across the workroom toward her. Rowan was already beside the stove, squatting in front of it with a bundle of tinder in her hand. “I know how,” she protested.

“Yes, but you’re a disaster,” Harvena told her. “Birch?”

Rowan squawked a protest, and her wife, Ambrel, laughed. She began relating an anecdote to Harvena about Rowan failing to boil water for tea—Harvena laughed heartily. Yarrow’s uncle Rorick jumped in with another story that involved snails and mussels and a young Rowan who hadn’t realized you weren’t supposed to eat the shells …

“I’ll be back,” Terlu promised them all, but none of the people nor the plants were listening to her anymore. They were busily and cheerfully hauling in their belongings and setting themselves up for the night. A few had already ventured out, to scout out what needed to be done to the cottages to make them livable again.

She had the very clear sense that she wasn’t in charge, and she knew Yarrow wasn’t. His relatives had swooped in, and for better or worse, were making themselves at home.

She hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

* * *

When she reached Yarrow’s cottage, the door was locked. Terlu knocked.

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s Terlu.”

“Who else?”

“Just me.”

She heard a chair scrape on the wood floor. The door opened, and he popped his head out, looked down the snowy road, and then retreated. She scooted inside and hung up her coat while he shut and locked the door behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t imagine that they’d all come.”

He snorted. It didn’t sound like an I-don’t-believe-you snort, more of an I’m-unhappy-with-the-situation, which made her feel a tiny bit hopeful. Maybe it would be better once the arrivals were settled in and had their own cottages fixed up again? She hoped they didn’t disturb any of the papers or notebooks in Laiken’s workroom. She had the most important ones with her here on Yarrow’s desk, but there could be more that she’d need to reference.

If she was even going to be able to work more magic.

There were now a lot more eyes. She wasn’t certain she’d be able to proceed with their experiments without drawing attention. It was bad enough that the sentient plants were awake and busily casting spells to fix the cracks in the greenhouse glass. Maybe they’ll assume it was Laiken who taught the plants magic? Or maybe this family of gardeners wouldn’t care, so long as the greenhouses were being fixed? She was depending on a lot of “maybes.”

“They don’t have anywhere else to go,” Terlu said. For that reason, they might keep her secret, if （when） they discovered it. It wouldn’t be in their best interest to draw imperial investigators to the island … if there were imperial investigators anymore. According to Marin and the new arrivals, the empire had fallen. What did that mean for its laws and for its law enforcement? Who was in charge now, and how did they feel about unlicensed magic? She added that to the list of questions to ask Yarrow’s relatives, subtly. “And at least here you know they’re safe.”

“They’re acting as if they’ve come home,” Yarrow said, crossing to the window and looking out it, as if expecting a relative to pop out from behind a pine tree. “Yet every single one of them abandoned this place and didn’t look back.”

She’d sailed away from Eano and hadn’t returned, but she still thought of it as home. Her childhood home, at least. It would always have a place in her heart, even if her future wasn’t there. She thought of Ree, so happy on Marin’s boat—he’d found his place. “You don’t know how they felt about it or how they feel now. You could try talking to them.”

Another snort.

“You don’t have to forgive them, but they could help. You’ve a family full of gardeners eager to make this place somewhere they can live. Use that.”

“I just … don’t want anything to change.”

Gently, she said, “I think things will have to change.” The sailboat disgorging so many new arrivals, each with their own hopes and dreams and plans, ensured that. “The empire fell. Everything’s changed.” The only question was how it had changed.

“Not for me it hasn’t. Everyone else can do what they want, but I want to continue to experiment with the greenhouse spells.” He must have seen hesitation in her expression because he added, “Unless you don’t want … I mean, you can do as you please, of course.”

She tried to sort out how to respond: She wanted to keep trying with the spells, but should she? Was it wise, right now? Or would it be smarter to wait? But if she waited, how many more greenhouses would die? What she was doing was important. More than that, it was right.