The Enchanted Greenhouse(91)
She obeyed. “They won’t leave because they don’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, your sister seemed happy to be back. I think they missed this place. And you.”
He snorted.
Terlu laughed. “You know, it’s not impossible that some people might find you likable.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished her eyes were open so she could see his expression. He didn’t say anything, but he drew her forward by the hand.
She felt the temperature change as she crossed the threshold into the next greenhouse. It was cooler, but not cold. She breathed in and thought the air was heavy with the smell of a sweet, familiar flower. Perhaps lilac? And roses? And … She sniffed, and the air teased her with other sweet scents that she couldn’t name. “Can I open my eyes?”
“Yes.” He was right beside her. She felt his breath warm on her ear, and she shivered. She felt as if her skin was aware of his nearness. Without meaning to, she leaned toward his voice, and she felt the brush of his shirt on her back—he was that close.
Opening her eyes, Terlu saw stars everywhere. She gasped.
A galaxy was spread out before her.
“It’s the most spectacular if your eyes have already adjusted,” Yarrow said. “That’s why I had you close them. So you could see the stars between the stars.”
“Are they all”—she reached toward a constellation—“flowers?”
“Bioluminescent flowers,” he confirmed. Above, a flower-star streaked across the glass sky. He added, “Enhanced with an enchantment.” He took her hand again, and they strolled through the greenhouse. The path curved through the star field, and everywhere she looked, the flowers sparkled and danced. “They don’t require much care, so I’m not here often. Except when I want to remember that the universe is vast.”
“It’s lovely.”
In between the lights, she saw the vines that filled the greenhouse. She wondered if they were a map of the stars above the island or whether they were a galaxy that didn’t exist.
“Why did he make this? For his daughter?” Terlu asked.
“He created it after she died.”
“A tribute? A goodbye? An apology?”
“Does it matter?” Yarrow asked. “It’s ours now.”
Ours. Wow, did he mean … No, he means him and the plants. Or him and his family. His father. His sister. His aunts, uncles, and cousins. It of course belonged to all of them, the people who’d been born here and returned. He didn’t mean her, a woman with no ties to him or the greenhouse. She wasn’t even a gardener. Now that she thought about it, she was embarrassed that she even thought for a second he was talking about her—
“Let me show you the ocean room.”
“Ocean room?”
“I think you’ll like it,” he said. “Maybe even more than the garlic.”
“There isn’t much better than garlic.”
Yarrow smiled, and they kept walking.
He’d mentioned ocean plants once before, she remembered, and she hadn’t asked how and where they grew. Perhaps in ponds like the water lilies? She didn’t ask—let him surprise her.
He was still holding her hand, and she decided it was her favorite sensation. His hand swallowed hers, and it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. She could feel the calluses on his palm and fingers from the work, but he held her hand so gently that his felt soft. She wondered if he liked holding her hand as much as she liked holding his. With his hand encompassing hers, Terlu didn’t even feel the need to talk. They strolled side by side through a greenhouse with translucent flowers and then another that was full of flowers that, every few seconds, released a puff of petals into the air like a miniature firework. The floor was littered in petals, and the air smelled like overripe plums.
When they reached the next door, she saw blue through the glass, a wavering, pearlescent blue. Could that be water? “When you said ‘ocean room,’ you didn’t mean actual—”
He opened the door.
Inside was a tunnel into the bluest blue.
“Oh. Oh my. Oh, you did.”
Still hand in hand with Yarrow, Terlu walked forward. Seawater filled the greenhouse on all sides of the tunnel. Looking up, she saw fish—brilliant blue, silver, and gold—flashing through the water, swimming between several-stories-tall strands of kelp that waved gently back and forth.
Beneath her feet was sand. It was dry within the tunnel, but on just the other side of glass, it teemed with life, both plant and animal: grasses and corals and anemones. She saw a bright blue crab scuttle over a rock and then dip out of sight.
“You see why I couldn’t leave Belde?” Yarrow said, his voice hushed, even reverent. “There are wonders through every door.”
“I don’t see how anyone could leave.” She walked deeper in, staring around her in awe. The scale and complexity of the magic to create and sustain such a miracle … It was a slice of the sea, encased within the greenhouse. How had Laiken done it? And how long would it last? If the glass in this room failed … She had to solve the secret of the spells before that happened. “We need to save this place.”
He squeezed her hand.
Marveling at the majesty of the kelp, she asked, “How do you garden here?”
“There’s a ladder. I’ll show you.” Yarrow led her through the tunnel to the far wall, where a ladder, also encased in a bubble-like tunnel, led toward the ceiling. Looking up, she saw a walkway above the water. He released her hand and began to climb.