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Muffled, Lotti said into Terlu’s shirt, “We weren’t victims . We were beloved . He wouldn’t have hurt any of us. He loved us. He just wanted to protect us.”

Dendy sighed, curling his tendrils around his pot. “That’s what heee said when heee cast the spell, that it was for our own goooood.”

“He was a liar,” the ivy said. “A filthy liar.”

“One by one, we all fell aaasleeeep,” Dendy said.

“For our own good, he said.” As it spoke, the ivy was winding and unwinding around the nearest pillar, clearly agitated. “He never intended to wake us. Why are we alive again now?”

“Where is he?” the thistle asked, trembling. “Is he coming?”

The prickly pear sobbed louder.

Terlu glanced at Yarrow. He didn’t look as if he was about to answer, so she took the lead. “He’s not. He died a few years ago. It was Lotti who insisted we wake you all. She assisted with every step of the process. Whatever happened before, Lotti helped you now.”

Shifting in Terlu’s hands, the little rose peeked out from behind her petals.

“We are graaateful for such help,” Dendy said gravely.

“He’s dead?” the ivy said, withdrawing into a coil.

“He’s not coming back?” the thistle asked. There was hope in its voice.

Yarrow said firmly, “He’s not.”

Opening all its blossoms at once, the morning glory proclaimed, “The darkness lifts!”

That’s what they need to hear, Terlu realized. That they’re safe. Now she knew what to say, the same thing she would’ve wanted to hear.

Circling through the greenhouse, Terlu reassured each of them that they were wanted, they were safe, and everything would be okay.

Lotti kept silent, only piping up to echo what Terlu said, while Yarrow checked the health of their roots and stems, also echoing her.

No one was going to make them sleep again, and no one was going to harm them or take them away.

By the time she’d talked with each of them, the sun had set, and the plants were beginning to curl into their pots—some of them calmer and some merely exhausted.

As near as Terlu could tell from what the plants said of their last day, Laiken had been afraid for them—he’d kept repeating this was for their own good, to keep them safe from anyone who would want to take them and use them.

He’d never specified who might want to take them or why, but he was insistent that this was his only choice.

“He’s gone. You’re safe,” she told them over and over, until they calmed, one by one.

She returned again to the philodendron on the walkway.

Of all of them, he was the only one who had kept calm throughout the whole ordeal.

“Dendy, will you all be okay for the night, or should we stay here?” Terlu asked.

She could bring Lotti back to Laiken’s tower and then return to spend the night with the other awakened plants.

“Yooou twooo won’t fit in a pot,” Dendy observed.

“We could bring in bedding,” Yarrow said.

“I’ll stay with them,” Lotti volunteered. “I… think I owe them. Even if I don’t remember. I’ll stay, in case any of them needs anything—and if they do, I’ll come get you. And maybe they can help me remember.”

Terlu asked Lotti, “Are you sure?” The other plants hadn’t been kind to her. “You could come back to the cottage with us for the night. We’ll be back in the morning.”

Yarrow knelt beside the philodendron and spoke softly to him.

“I’ll be fine,” Lotti said. She climbed down Terlu’s pants and hopped onto the ground near the ivy. “These are my friends.” She added with more of her old spirit, “Or they will be.”

With reluctance, Terlu and Yarrow left Lotti and the other sentient plants.

Caught up in their own thoughts, they didn’t speak much as they walked through the other greenhouses and then outside to the cottage.

The temperature had plummeted further, and Terlu’s breath misted in front of her as they hurried between the pine trees.

Inside, she continued to shiver while Yarrow built up the banked fire.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Yarrow said.

When she was a little warmer, she hung up her coat and crossed to the kitchen cabinets to set bowls on the table while Yarrow heated up the soup. “Do you think Lotti will be okay?”

“She’s a survivor.”

“Are you okay? I know… that is, I’d gotten the impression that Laiken was important to you. Finding out that he cast that spell against their will…”

“He took their lives from them,” Yarrow said. “Because he was afraid.”

Filling their glasses with strawberry-mint water, she waited, giving him space and hoping he’d say more.

He had to be feeling a lot. This sorcerer…

While he didn’t sound loving, he’d been a father figure, in a way.

He’d created everything on this island, including everything that Yarrow cared about.

It had to hurt to know he’d intentionally harmed his own creations, that it hadn’t been an accident or something that had gone wrong.

He’d deliberately taken the plants’ ability to think, feel, move, and experience life, with no plan to ever wake them again.

It wasn’t a punishment for anything they’d done, like it had been with Terlu. They were innocent.

“He was supposed to protect them,” Yarrow said. “All my life… Everyone on this island was dedicated to protecting every plant, and he… He was the one who started it all, who taught us.” He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

“It’s okay to be angry at him.”

“It’s pointless,” Yarrow said. “He’s dead. It doesn’t matter how I feel about it.”

She set the glasses on the table. “It matters to me.”

He looked at her startled and then nodded, but he didn’t say anything more about it.

Instead he said, “I’ll need to secure a few flies for the Venus flytrap.

There are spells on the greenhouses to control which insects are allowed in which area, and I don’t know if any are allowed in the sentient plant room.

In fact, I should talk to each of them tomorrow to determine what kind of environment they’ll thrive in.

The myrtle seems to miss the sea? I don’t know what to do with that.

Maybe move his pot to the dock so he at least has a view?

One of the greenhouses used to have a spectacular view of the ocean, but it failed early on. ”

That gave Terlu an idea.

A terrible idea, but still an idea.

“Do you think…” She paused. Maybe it was better to not give voice to the idea?

No, she couldn’t do that. “Do you think any of the plants know about the greenhouse spells? If they do… it’s possible they could help me identify which spells Laiken used to create the greenhouses…

” She shouldn’t even be considering this.

After all, today’s spell hadn’t performed the way she’d expected.

She’d failed to realize how widespread a spell’s effects could be.

On the other hand, she had woken them, so it was, technically, a success.

She blurted out the words: “If I knew which spells he used, maybe I could figure out how to fix the greenhouses that failed.”

He gawked at her. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I could try.”

“That would be…” He swallowed hard, as if he wanted to say so much more but the words had tangled in his throat. He shook his head. “You’ve done so much already. I can’t ask it of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” Terlu said. “I volunteered.”

“I know it’s been hard… After what was done to you… If you want to stop here, I’ll understand. You’ve fulfilled your promise. You don’t need to do more.”

“But there’s more to do.” Besides, it wasn’t as if the situation had changed that much—it was still just her, Yarrow, and the plants on the island. There was no one who’d report her. And if they did… Well, it’s too late. I’ve already cast a spell and broken the law. “Yarrow, I want to try.”

His smile blossomed.

Seeing it, she was even more certain that she needed to try.

“No promises this time, though. I don’t know if it will be possible.

” She had no idea how complex the spell would be or if Laiken kept detailed enough notes to replicate his work.

She could end up sinking the island into the ocean or accidentally creating a carnivorous forest.

Or perhaps I could restore what Yarrow has lost.

Still looking as if she’d offered him the moon, he nodded. “I understand. No expectations. But I’d start with the philodendron, Dendy. He seems the most sensible. He might have some insight into what the sorcerer did.”

“Good idea.”

“And Terlu… thank you.”

Terlu felt a warmth flutter into her rib cage.

Yarrow served the soup into the bowls, and they both sat at the table.

She wanted to ask him what it was like here, when the plants were awake and it was full of people.

He’d said that it had almost become a village.

Had it been a happy place? Had he had a good childhood?

And if he had, why was he okay with being so alone here for so long?

Maybe someday I’ll be able to ask him whatever pops into my mind.

It still felt so fragile between them, though, like he’d walk away again if she asked too much or pushed too hard.

After they finished the soup, Terlu washed the dishes while Yarrow used the washroom, then he put away the soup while she took her turn. They both finished at about the same time and climbed into the right-next-to-each-other beds.

To her surprise, he was the one who spoke first. “I wish I understood why he did it. He was supposed to protect them. They trusted him. They loved him.”

“He was afraid to lose them.”

“Then he was responsible for making his own fear come true.”

“People aren’t necessarily logical. Especially if they’re in pain.”

Yarrow was quiet. Outside, the snow was falling, a soft shush on the roof and the world. The fire crackled and popped, shedding dancing shadows across the cottage. She listened to Yarrow breathe.

“It makes no sense,” he said in the darkness.