A flash of white the size of my hand flitted in front of my face, and I jumped. I relaxed when I realized it was a moth, its white wings fuzzy. The moth continued to hover about a foot in front of me. I swished my hand at it, but the moth persisted, dodging my skin and seeming to chart a path directly in front of us.
“Are you seeing this?” I asked.
Nevah squinted at it. “Looks like a white satin moth. Their host plant is the yellow oleander. I wonder… No, that seems far-fetched.”
“Nothing is too fantastical for this situation, Nevah.”
“Do you think it’s trying to guide us forward?”
I tilted my head sideways, studying the moth, which was heading inland. When I glanced at the quill, it was pointing exactly in the moth’s direction. “Following a moth seems as good a plan as following a quill that’s hundreds of years old,” I said. “Lead on, Snowy.”
“Snowy? You remember we’re in south Florida, right?” Nevah teased.
I laughed, and we stepped carefully through the bog as we followed the moth. “Please tell me that magical grass Feathergrass patented is out here too,” I said, remembering the existence of alligators once more.
Nevah shook her head. “No, but I’m checking in with the water lilies. We’re clear for now.”
I had no idea what she meant by that, but it was not the time to ask. The moth was veering hard to the left, and when I checked the quill again, it was too.
We were squarely inland and on mostly dry ground, though I didn’t think the soil could ever fully be dry in this part of Florida. Snowy was leading us into an overgrown tunnel. Nevah and I glanced at each other, then she shrugged, and we continued forward.
“A tunnel of stinging nettles, poison ivy, and sumac,” Nevah said, examining the plants around us. “Your theory is becoming more and more evidence based.”
Without much conscious effort, I reached out to the plants in the tunnel, confirming that they were nearly all defensive plants. The tunnel was tight, and the plants brushed against our skin, but what would have caused red welts and painful scratches on anyone else merely glided over us like reed grass.
The tunnel continued for a few hundred feet, then the moth turned to the right.
“Whoa,” I whispered, coming to a halt at the sight in front of me. We had entered a clearing that was lit by glowing moonflowers and surrounded by carnivorous plants. There were Nepenthes larger than my arms and Venus flytraps the size of pumpkins along with bladderworts, sundews, and corkscrew plants. Between them, I saw every kind of carnivorous trapping mechanism: pitfall traps, flypaper traps, snap traps, and bladder traps. Insects wouldn’t stand a chance.
With a rush of concern, I searched for the moth. I spotted it hovering near a giant Nepenthes, about to slide into its pitfall trap. “Snowy, no!” I shouted, immediately gathering my power. I connected to the Nepenthes plant and said, “Pressule.”
The Nepenthes sealed closed, and the moth was shot away from its deadly trap in a little puff of air.
“Nice save,” Nevah said, putting a hand to her chest.
I reached out a finger, and the moth rested there. Did it know how close it was to disappearing inside that plant forever? I wasn’t sure if I should feel bad about denying the plant its meal, but in the moment, saving the moth had felt like the only option.
The moth flickered its wings but stayed attached to my finger, then each of the defensive plants seemed to turn toward a corner of the clearing.
Nevah gasped, and I stared in wonder. An arch made of stark-white orchids and midnight-black hellebore knotted around two cypress trees that had become illuminated, as if flicked on with a switch.
No, they weren’t just white orchids. They were ghost orchids.
They were a rare species, and many an orchid hunter had attempted an ill-fated excursion into the Florida wilds to capture one.
The contrast between the white of the orchids and the black of the hellebore was striking. The ghost orchids were emitting the illuminating glow, and we stepped closer.
“What do you think?” Nevah asked, noticing, as I had, that Snowy had not left my finger to guide us further. “Do we go through?”
I looped my arm in hers and nodded. “We go through.”
Chapter Twenty
The ghost orchids and black hellebore were as still as sentinels on the cypress trees they adorned. I felt as if all the defensive plants in the area were watching our every move as Nevah and I surveyed the illuminated arch.
Nevah took a tentative step forward but then yelped when her foot seemed to get stuck in midair. “There is some kind of invisible barrier here.”
I went to her side and put a hand to the air but felt no resistance. Cautiously, I took a step and passed through to the other side. My powers, which had been active on the whole walk in, instantly faded away. If I hadn’t been sure before, I was now. I was in a magical botanical conservatory, and there was only one it could be. I turned back to Nevah. “That’s strange. Try again.”
