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“I think… he wasn’t well.” She said it carefully, but it wasn’t a guess.

It was the best explanation she had for why he’d sent Yarrow’s family away even though they were desperately needed, why he’d put his sentient plants to sleep, why he’d encoded his spells and his notes, and why he’d made no plans for the future of his greenhouses after his death.

Yarrow didn’t answer, but she sensed he was thinking about it.

It was a kinder explanation than saying the sorcerer had suddenly turned cruel for no reason.

Laiken had needed someone to care for him and intervene when fear began to consume him, but perhaps there had been no one close enough to him to see.

Or no one who could help if they did see.

Into the darkness, Terlu said, “When I was a kid, I had a friend a couple of years older than me who excelled at getting me in trouble. She’d insist that of course she asked permission to climb into the volcano crater.

Of course it was fine to take the canoe out to the reef.

Of course no one would mind if we put a manta ray in my family bathtub—it would be my pet, and every kid deserves a pet.

I fell for it every time because I trusted her, and I thought she loved me just as much as I loved and admired her.

She was pretty and sparkly, and I wanted to be just like her.

One time, we’d swum out to one of the harbor bells.

I’d worried about the clouds, but she said they were fine…

” She trailed off, remembering how Odile would coax her into their next adventure, call her partner and best friend and say she was brave.

Next to Odile, Terlu had felt brave and, yes, sparkly, as if those attributes could rub off on her.

“They weren’t fine,” Yarrow said softly.

“No, they weren’t.” A storm had sprung up, she remembered.

A fierce one. “When waves rose around us… It turned out she was hoping her parents would rescue her. They were always busy—her mother was the village healer, and her father was on the council. Helping other people… that’s what they loved to do, but they never seemed to have time for Odile.

And so she was constantly trying to capture their attention. ”

“What happened?”

“My sister saved us. She noticed I was missing and rallied my aunt, who was the best sailor in the village—she went out in the storm and brought us home. Odile had swallowed a lot of water. She almost didn’t make it.

And her parents didn’t know until the next day.

They were both out in a neighbor’s field, helping bring in a pregnant cow.

After that, my parents forbade me from going anywhere with Odile again, at least not without very direct supervision.

” She remembered what hurt the most: how Odile didn’t seem to miss her.

Odile had latched on to another kid to rope into her schemes, and eventually her parents did notice, when she broke into the head councilmember’s house and stole one of the village relics—a headdress that she wore brazenly to the Spring Equinox Festival.

She’d been jailed for that stunt, and her parents had been forced to confront her behavior.

“I’ve forgotten why I started telling you all this. ”

“Sometimes people disappoint you,” Yarrow said.

“Yes. Wait, no. Sometimes people are going through things that you can’t see because you’re too busy looking up to them. I think Laiken wasn’t who you needed him to be, and he wasn’t who you thought he was. His decisions weren’t always right.”

Yarrow was silent.

“Like putting the plants to sleep.”

He grunted in agreement.

“And like sending your family away.”

No response.

“You could invite them back, if you wanted,” Terlu said tentatively. She didn’t want to push, but… He misses them. I miss mine. She’d write to hers, if she weren’t afraid it would endanger them—and even more afraid of how they’d react.

He sighed heavily in the darkness. “They have their own lives now.”

How did he know they didn’t want to come back? Maybe they were just waiting for an invitation. Maybe they missed the greenhouses. Maybe they missed him. “But—”

He cut her off. “We should sleep. Dawn will come soon, and there’s work to do.”

Terlu fell silent. She wished she hadn’t said anything. He didn’t need her theories on a man that she’d never met, especially one who’d loomed so large in his life. He’s probably regretting not sleeping with the plants.

At last, Yarrow said, “Thank you for today.”

“It didn’t go exactly the way I thought it would. I’m sorry.” All the chaos was her fault. If she’d woken them one at a time, as she’d planned, it wouldn’t have been nearly so traumatic for the plants—or for Lotti and Yarrow.

“You woke them, as you promised.” He rolled over onto his side, facing her.

Firelight flickered in his eyes, and she found herself staring into them.

His eyes were as green as the pine trees outside, and when the flames danced in them, they glowed with flecks of gold, like the sheen of his skin.

She wondered what he’d do if she reached out and touched him.

He could draw away. She kept her hands firmly tucked beneath her blanket.

“Tomorrow I’ll work on translating more spells,” Terlu said. “If Dendy can help, that’ll make it go faster. Maybe the rest can help you with the gardening in all the other greenhouses? You shouldn’t have to do it all yourself.”

“They just woke,” Yarrow objected. “I can’t ask them to work.”

“It might help them, if they feel they have a purpose,” Terlu said. “You could just ask, with no expectations. Make it clear they can say no. They might surprise you.”

Softly, he said, “They’ve already surprised me.”

She supposed that was true.

“So have you.”

For an instant, she thought he might be the one to reach out, cross the uncrossable space that lay between them, but he didn’t do it, and she didn’t dare.