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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 .

But would all of their new arrivals see it that way?

“It’s not just us and the plants anymore,” Terlu said.

“We could pretend it is,” Yarrow said. “With a bit of effort, I believe we can completely ignore my family and act as if they don’t exist.”

Terlu laughed.

He didn’t laugh with her.

“Oh, wait—you’re serious. That’s neither healthy nor practical, but even if we did… there could still be imperial investigators out there, searching for lawbreakers, maybe even searching specifically for me. We don’t know what’s changed with the revolution. It could be worse, not better.”

Yarrow took her hands. “I wouldn’t let them take you.”

“You couldn’t stop them.”

“Then we’d be statues together.” He’d moved closer, only inches away. “They’d have to make a double pedestal for both of us, because I won’t let go.”

Her throat felt thick, and her eyes heated and blurred. That was… well, terrible, but also beautiful and sweet and perfect. She blinked hard, trying not to cry.

Spotting something outside, Yarrow suddenly released her hands, crossed to the door, and opened it. Emeral waltzed in, his tail held high and his wings folded on his back.

Terlu wiped her eyes and got herself back under control.

“You’ll need to communicate with your relatives at some point in some way,” she said, sidestepping the issue of spellcasting and statues altogether for the moment, “at least to tell them what needs to be done in the greenhouses.” Otherwise they’d invent tasks for themselves, and Yarrow might like that even less.

It would be better if he coordinated his efforts with theirs.

“They’ll know what to do.” Yarrow poured water in a bowl for Emeral and fed him a piece of fish. The winged cat accepted the gifts with a pleased murp noise.

“But it’s your greenhouse.”

“It’s Laiken’s greenhouse.”

“He’s gone, and you’ve been the one caring for them,” Terlu said.

“I think that makes them yours. By love and by law.” She wasn’t certain if the law for abandoned property had changed now that there had been a change in government, but she knew that Yarrow’s longevity here gave him clear claim to it.

He’d put blood, sweat, and tears into this island.

“Not yet. Later, I’ll talk to them. Some of them. As needed.”

She studied his face, his clenched jaw, the furrows in his forehead.

He’s afraid. “I said ‘in some way.’ You don’t have to talk to them directly, if you don’t want to.

I can talk to them for you whenever you need me to.

If you want to tell them anything about the greenhouses or the cottages or the island, I can be your go-between. ”

He looked over at her, eyes wide. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.” He said he’ll be a statue with me.

“You don’t have to face them until you’re ready.

” Did he think she was going to force a reunion, now that he’d made it so clear he didn’t want one?

Granted, she had been insistent about sending the letter—and really, now that the initial shock had passed, even he had to admit that the letter had been a grand, if unexpectedly complicated, success.

So many gardeners! But she wasn’t going to push him any more than she already had, not now that she understood at least a tiny bit more how he felt.

“You keep surprising me, Terlu Perna.”

She hoped that was a good thing. Brightly, she said, “I think it’s going to work out fine.

” Maybe the laws against magic use had changed.

Maybe the gardeners would embrace her use of spells.

Maybe all her worries were just a reaction to the trauma she’d experienced and not grounded in the current reality.

Maybe the fall of the empire meant the fall of the imperial investigators and the pardoning of all former criminals. Maybe everything would be okay.

Yarrow let out a sound that was almost a laugh.

“What?”

“You don’t let anything dim your light,” Yarrow said. “You were sentenced to a fate worse than death—don’t tell me it wasn’t. You lost everything. Unfairly punished. You’re terrified it will happen again. And yet you still open your arms to everyone. How?”

“I…” She’d never been asked that or ever even considered the question.

“What’s the alternative?” As she asked the question, she realized he had chosen the alternative.

He hadn’t gone with his family. He’d chosen to stay behind, by himself, to devote the rest of his life to what everyone else considered a lost cause.

“I suppose I choose to think it will all be okay because then at least, even if I can’t control what happens, I can control how I feel about it. ”

“You just choose.”

Terlu thought about it. “Yes.”

He shook his head. “I’m not made like that.”

“That’s okay too.”

“Huh.”

Both of them fell silent. He moved to the kitchen counter and began to slice a squash and then a tomato. She watched him create the precise, thin slices for a moment, and then she turned her attention to building up the fire. When she finished, she located a broom and swept the floor.

“You’re not talking,” Yarrow said.

“I thought you might need some silence.”

“Oh. I… Yes.” There was so much relief in his voice that she smiled.

In silence, he cooked while she cleaned, and then they ate dinner and prepared for bed, all still in silence.

She wondered if his family had settled in for the night, if they were able to sleep, what kind of dreams (or nightmares) they had after leaving the lives they’d built for themselves and then seen torn down.

Only when the lights were out, the fire was low, and Terlu was about to climb into bed did Yarrow speak. “It’s warmer together,” he said.

“It is,” she agreed.

She slid into his bed, and he wrapped the covers around her.

“I won’t…” he began.

“We’ll just sleep,” she said.

He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Thank you,” before he slid his arm around her waist and drew her close to him.

Outside, it was quiet as well, except for the gentle call of an owl.