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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 discov ered.

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.

Ignoring the puddle, Yarrow knelt by the table, eye level with Lotti. “You’re… By the sea,” he swore. “You’re one of Sorcerer Laiken’s creations. I thought that all of them—” He cut himself off. “Is there anything you need? Fresh soil? More nutrients?”

Using a kitchen towel, Terlu started to mop up the puddle around the pitcher. She then intercepted Emeral as he began to stalk toward the table. Scooping him in her arms, she cradled him and petted his cheek. Liking that, he folded his wings and purred.

“I’m quite well as is,” Lotti said, sounding mollified. “I’m not a high-maintenance plant. I can take care of myself, now that I’m awake. If I have access to water. And if I’m not torn apart by a vicious feline.”

Lifting his eyes, Yarrow looked at Terlu. “I knew you had to be a sorcerer!”

There was so much hope in his face that she wanted to say she was, just so he wouldn’t stop looking at her as if she were the first star in the sky, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you lied about.

It was one thing to tell a library patron that their hair looked nice when it didn’t; it was quite another to claim you were a different kind of person entirely.

“I’m not,” Terlu said. “And I didn’t break any laws.

I didn’t cast any spells. All I did was give her some water.

She came to life on her own. She must have just been dormant. ”

His face fell, and she felt as if she’d disappointed a puppy.

Emeral squirmed in her arms.

“Can you please control your monster?” Lotti asked.

Yarrow opened one of his kitchen drawers and took out a roll of red ribbon. Unrolling it, he dangled it in the air. Eyeing it, Emeral launched himself out of Terlu’s arms at the ribbon. Yarrow released it, and the cat flew up into the rafters with his prize.

“Clever,” Terlu said.

Lotti slapped one of her leaves against the table. “Can we get back to talking about me? What were you about to say about Laiken’s creations? You thought all of them were what? You need to finish that sentence. No, never mind. Just take me to Laiken. He’ll explain it all.”

Terlu met Yarrow’s eyes. He’d said that name earlier. Laiken was the sorcerer who’d made these greenhouses, the one who had dismissed Yarrow’s family, the one who’d died and left his creation to decay and fail.

“I can’t… He isn’t…” Yarrow ran his hand through his hair.

He’s not going to find the words. She gave him a moment more, but he continued to look as if he wanted to disappear out the door and vanish into the snow. Gently, Terlu said to Lotti, “He passed away.”

“He… When? How?” she squeaked. “No, it can’t be true. Of course, it’s true. His workroom… It’s full of dust and cobwebs. I should have known as soon as I saw it. Oh, my Laiken!” The rose’s petals tightened, closing her into a bud again.

Yarrow glanced at Terlu as if he expected her to know what to say.

Tentatively, Terlu asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lotti widened her blossom and shouted, “No! I do not want to talk about it! I want to meet the sorcerer in charge, whoever inherited the greenhouse from Laiken. Take me to them!”

Clearing his throat, Yarrow said, “There hasn’t been a sorcerer since Laiken. He never took an apprentice or a partner or named a successor. He wouldn’t allow anyone new on the island. He didn’t trust anyone else not to destroy what he’d built.”

Lotti’s petals drooped. “He got worse then.”

Terlu sat on a chair beside her. “What do you mean?”

She sighed heavily, her leaves shaking. “I wish I’d been there, at the end. He might have listened to me. Oh, you should have seen him when he was young! He was like sunshine just to be near. He built this place as a gift to the world.”

“I didn’t know him when he was young,” Yarrow said. “He was already over one hundred when I was born. In the time I knew him, he didn’t listen to anyone.”

“He only wanted to protect us,” Lotti said. “All of us and all of this.”

Terlu knew some sorcerers were long-lived, but even if Laiken had expected to never die, it was still unforgivable that he’d left Yarrow here with a massive, sprawling greenhouse to care for all by himself.

He could have trained an apprentice or left arrangements for another sorcerer to care for the island’s enchantments or even simply hired more gardeners.

It was too vast for one person, with or without magic, and no one should be asked to shoulder such an enormous burden on their own.

It was far too much responsibility. Endless work with no reprieve.

“I must have been asleep for a long time,” Lotti said softly, sadly. “I don’t know you, either of you, which means he must have let me stay dormant… a very long time.”

Yarrow nodded.

“I just arrived,” Terlu volunteered. “You wouldn’t have known me.”

Lotti wiggled her roots around to face her blossom toward Terlu. “And your first act was to wake and abandon me? Don’t think I have forgiven you for that, because I haven’t.”

“I…” How did she explain she’d been afraid? That wasn’t an excuse. She’d been cruel to leave Lotti like that, especially since she knew better—she knew how she’d felt waking alone and confused and cold in the forest. “I’m sorry.” The words felt insufficient.

“Humph,” Lotti said.

Yarrow pulled on his coat. “There’s something I should show you.”

“Me?” Terlu asked. She was surprised he still wanted to talk with her. He had to think the worst of her now. She was fully aware of how badly she’d messed up.

“Her,” Yarrow said with a nod toward the resurrection rose.

She felt herself blush. Of course he didn’t mean me. She thought of all the times when she’d waved at someone waving at her, only to realize they were waving at a person behind her—this felt the same, except magnified. He never wanted me here. She was a mistake.

Belatedly, he added, “You can come too. If Lotti is all right with that.”

The rose lifted her petals into the air. “You may come if you carry me. Gently.”