Page 69

The day of the Winter Feast, the solstice, dawned bright.

Terlu leaped out of bed, and Yarrow joined her.

She’d helped him with the dough the night before, and she’d learned enough about baking to know the next step.

While she shaped the loaves for the second rise, he ducked into the privy to wash.

After he emerged, he began work on the sugar decorations, little roses and vines all made of white frosting.

Finishing the loaves, she washed and got herself ready, choosing a jewel-colored dress from Alyssium that Ambrel had loaned her, and then rejoined him by the kitchen counter.

He’d dressed up too, in soft wool pants with embroidered vines on the sides and a white shirt that pulled tight across his chest. He’d combed his hair and shaved as well, and she admired him as he set the table for two.

Yarrow smiled when he noticed and admired her right back, his eyes lingering on her lips as if he were thinking of a lovely memory.

They ate leftover honey cakes for breakfast, and she fried two eggs.

One of the new arrivals had produced a few chickens from deep within the hull of Marin’s boat.

There was talk of plans to bring more chickens to the island, as well as a goat and perhaps a cow.

(Marin flat-out refused to have that on her boat, but there were other supply runners who would.) Now that their little population was growing, no one wanted to decimate the local birds with overhunting them or overharvesting their eggs.

More people meant more mouths. But it also means more ideas and more dreams. On the whole, she thought it was a definite win.

“Did you talk to Ambrel about the decorations?” Yarrow asked. He’d finished his eggs and had returned to preparing his desserts for the Winter Feast. He’d already piped several trays’ worth of decorations, all of them exquisitely elaborate.

“She said Rowan wants to help with them.”

Yarrow quit piping the frosting into the shape of a rose. “No.”

“Why no? She seemed excited.”

He sighed heavily. “She’s been crocheting yarn eyes to attach to the plants. She thinks it would be funny.”

Terlu grinned. “That would be funny, if the plants are okay with it.”

“It was Lotti’s idea.”

“Then what’s the harm?”

He snorted. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yes, and…? Winter Feast isn’t supposed to be a solemn event. It’s a celebration of light in the darkness. Of friends and family. Laughing together at the lonely dark. I think it’s very appropriate.”

He sighed again, though she suspected his heart wasn’t in it. So long as no one asked him to wear crocheted eyes, she doubted he’d object.

“It’s going to be fun,” Terlu said.

He snorted, but then he smiled and held out the half-finished icing rose. “Taste?”

“You’re supposed to be making them for the feast. I can’t—”

He popped it in her mouth.

It melted and flavor burst from it. She’d expected pure sugar, but what she tasted was strawberries and vanilla—it was a bite of spring. “Oh! How did you do that?”

“Each color rose is going to have a different flavor.”

“You’re brilliant.”

He blushed. “I’m glad you like it. I’m going to put them all over the sugar glass, to symbolize the cracks that the plants healed.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

Another snort. “Prettier than crocheted eyes.”

Leaning forward, Terlu kissed his cheek. She left traces of sugar on his skin. “You just want something to grumble about. Admit it: you like having your sister home.”

“It’s fine,” he said.

She grinned—that was basically a full admission that she was right.

“I’ll be back after I check on the others.

Rijes is attempting to cook for the first time, and I promised I’d drop by to make sure she didn’t accidentally burn down the tower.

Apparently, that’s a concern?” She couldn’t imagine the head librarian wasn’t brilliant at everything.

Pulling on her coat, Terlu opened the door.

“Terlu?”

She glanced back.

“For the Summer Feast, we’ll invite your family—your parents, your sister, your new niece. And your plant friend as well, if you want.”

That was an enormous offer from Yarrow: More people on his island? Especially strangers to him? He even sounded as if he meant it. She accepted it for the gift that it was. “I’d like that.”

With a great smile on her face, she headed out into the winter day, wearing her coat, boots, and a bright red scarf. Everyone was awake, despite the early hour, bustling between the cottages and the greenhouse. She waved to everyone she saw, and they waved back.

She made her way down the road, through the snow, to Laiken’s tower. Knocking, she waited for the door to open. Marin answered it, and smoke billowed out.

Terlu’s eyes watered, and she took a step backward. She didn’t see any flames inside, which made her optimistic that this was a past disaster, not a currently in-progress one. “Everyone okay?”

“So, we will not be bringing any food to the feast today,” Marin said.

“I have decided,” Rijes said from within, “that my contribution to the solstice celebration will be stories. I know many from history that I am certain no one on Belde has heard.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Terlu said.

“Everyone loves stories.” Squinting her eyes and wrinkling her nose, she came inside and opened the windows to air out the smoke.

A pile of charred… okay, she wasn’t quite sure what they were originally, but it wasn’t food anymore.

The debris sat shriveled and sad in a skillet, while the workroom reeked of burnt onion.

She didn’t ask. She supposed even head librarians had limitations. “We’ll start at noon, yes?”

“Noon sounds perfect.”

Leaving them to their cooking disaster, Terlu headed out.

On her way, she stopped by each of the finished (and near-finished) cottages and confirmed that everyone knew the feast would begin at noon.

As an added bonus, she got to sample many of the dishes—everyone wanted her to taste-test—and encountered no more charred debris.

Yarrow had, apparently, come by his cooking talent naturally. It was all going to be delicious.

Inside the greenhouse, in the lilac room, she met up with Lotti and Dendy, both of them sporting Rowan’s crocheted eyes.

Dendy wore one on each of his largest leaves, while Lotti had affixed two tiny ones at the center of her petals.

“You both look…” Terlu trailed off, not sure what adjective they were looking for.

“Amazing?” Lotti suggested.

“Yes, amazing,” Terlu said.

Dendy said, “I waaas goiiing for ‘absurd.’”

“That too,” Terlu agreed.

She strolled with them to the rose room, which was in the process of being transformed into a grand celebration hall.

Birch and Rorick were shouting orders to their younger relatives, who were installing tables—newly made tables that they’d constructed from spare planks of wood the week prior.

Ubri and Pipa were setting out a variety of chairs, all different sorts, around the tables.

One of the new arrivals—Flick, a man with tawny fur and antlers—was arranging napkins, while Yarrow’s aunt Rin added bouquets of flowers in vases every few feet.

Several of the sentient plants, including the myrtle-turned-sailor Ree, were stringing ribbons from the rafters, draping them in swooping bows, while a flock of miniature dragons perched nearby, nibbling at the ribbons and watching the excitement below.

In one corner, three of the residents who knew how to play instruments, led by Yarrow’s aunt Harvena, were setting up.

For the meal, a chorus of singing flowers were going to be moved in to provide ambient music, but before and after, anyone who wanted to could take a turn performing.

Terlu had volunteered to play as well—Vix, Yarrow’s cousin who liked to fish, had a six-string guitar she could borrow.

She hadn’t practiced since coming to Belde—and had zero practice in her six years as a statue, of course—but no one seemed to care whether the music was good. Just that it didn’t stop.

When Terlu had woken alone in the cold snow, she hadn’t expected to be a part of a full-out Winter Feast celebration the very same season.

She hadn’t expected any of what had happened.

She supposed that was why today mattered so much to her: it was a day to celebrate the improbable light that now burned in the implacable darkness.

Lotti bounced past her, a ribbon trailing from her petals.

And it’s a day to celebrate a whole lot of plants, Terlu thought with a grin.

At noon, it began!

Everyone filled the rose greenhouse, and the voices and laughter reached the rafters where Emeral and the tiny dragons snacked on their favorite treats—the cat and dragons seemed to have agreed to a truce, along with the leafy mice, due to the abundance of food.

The two children on the island, the toddler Epu and the son of the newest arrival, had become fast friends and were chasing each other around the greenhouse.

Rowan had produced a flute and was playing an upbeat melody while Ambrel danced with Birch.

Yarrow was seated beside Terlu, and he seemed, miraculously, to be enjoying himself, despite the cacophony of the crowd. On the other side of Terlu was Rijes, and she was clapping in rhythm with the music. Butterflies and dragonflies flittered overhead.

Everyone who could cook had cooked:

Carrots that tasted like candy. Asparagus coated in a creamy yellow sauce.

Potatoes prepared six different ways—fried, roasted, baked, twice-baked, and cooked with cheese and with cream.

Fish flavored with herbs that Terlu couldn’t even name but tasted beyond delicious.

A few dishes weren’t her favorite, like the mussels in butter that Yarrow loved but reminded Terlu too much of slugs, but she loved the dish with squash cut into noodles mixed in a nut-flavored sauce, as well as a sweet carrot bread made by one of the uncles.

And Yarrow had prepared her favorite, the layered zucchini, squash, and tomato dish he’d perfected.

They ate, they talked, they laughed, they sang, they told stories, and they danced.

Above the greenhouse, snow fell lightly as the shortest day of the year dipped toward nightfall.

When desserts were brought out, everyone oohed and ahhed.

Yarrow’s sugar glass with flavored roses was proclaimed the star, but there were also berry pies (Terlu contributed a blueberry pie) and cakes and cobblers and an amazing peach tart (Yarrow’s grandfather’s recipe).

And of course, chocolate-covered oranges.

After so much food was eaten that everyone sagged in their chairs and proclaimed over and over that they’d never need to eat again, Terlu tapped Yarrow on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “What do you think?”

He whispered back, “It’s wonderful.”

“Are you ready to leave?” she asked.

“I love you,” he said.

She smiled. “I guessed that.”

Terlu held out her hand, and he took it.

They excused themselves from the table, said thank you and happy solstice to everyone.

It took them more than a few minutes before they had extricated themselves and were strolling alone, hand in hand, through the greenhouses.

She inhaled the delicate sweetness of springtime flowers.

“Were you really okay with today, all those people and plants in your greenhouse?” Terlu asked him, when they were far enough away from festivities that the music and the voices were only a pleasant hum.

“Are you okay with all of us living here on Belde?” She hadn’t ever really asked him that.

It had just sort of happened, and he hadn’t had any choice in it.

His quiet life had been overturned, and she thought it was a good thing, but did he agree?

“It’s fine.”

“Really fine, or are you just saying that?”

Stopping beside a lilac, he turned and took both of her hands in his.

“Since you came into my life…” He swallowed, and she thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to find the words, but then he did.

Looking into her eyes, he continued. “I thought I was content to spend my life on Belde alone. I had a purpose, and I thought it was enough. You, though… You were unexpected.”

Terlu bit her lip to keep from asking if “unexpected” was good or not.

“You changed everything.”

She swallowed. Yes, she had.

“You changed me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Terlu said. “I think you’re amazing the way you are.”

Yarrow shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is you make my world better. Every day, in a million different ways. You brought me to life.”

“Then… it’s good? All of this. Us?”

“Very good,” he said. “And you? This isn’t the life you planned either.

You had no choice about coming here, no choice about being woken in the cold and alone—I am deeply sorry about that day, if I’ve never said so.

I shouldn’t have left. After I cast the spell…

when it didn’t work right away, I was certain it wasn’t going to work at all. ”

After all the failed spells she’d tried…

she absolutely understood. At least he hadn’t trapped them inside an impermeable bubble or turned window glass to water.

Happily, she hadn’t had any disasters lately, and she thought she’d learned enough to at least be more careful in the future. “It’s fine.”

“Are you happy?” he asked her.

She gave the same answer she’d given Rijes: “Yes. I am.”

She’d never imagined any of this—this island, the greenhouses, the purpose she’d found in translating the late sorcerer’s spells, the new community they were building, the plants and the dragons, the winged cat, and Yarrow.

All of it. She hadn’t even known this life was out there to dream about.

Now, though, it was the life she wanted.

“I’m home,” Terlu told him.

Drawing her closer, he kissed her, and she kissed him back. Above them, the snow fell gently on the greenhouse, while inside and all around them, the flowers bloomed.