As she turned the last petal, she heard a click, then another click, then another. One by one, starting at the center, all of the petals lifted, until it truly resembled a flower.
All three of them (four, including the winged cat) stared at the door, waiting for it to open. It just sat there, looking decorative.
“Huh. That was anticlimactic,” Lotti said.
Terlu pushed on the center of the door, and it swung open. Inside was what looked like another world. Above, the sky was amber with ripples of green, like the aurora to the far north, and ahead was a pine forest—or no, a wall of evergreen. There were no gaps between the trees. The needles wove together in a thick mat that allowed no hint of light. She stepped in and marveled at it. It stretched as far as she could see in either direction.
“How is this a maze?” Lotti asked.
Yarrow grunted. “You’ll see.”
Terlu and the rose walked (or hopped) through the doorway. Yarrow moved to close the door behind them—and the winged cat swooped through. “Catch him!” he shouted.
But Emeral was already soaring up toward the amber-and-green sky.
“Well, that won’t be good,” Yarrow commented.
Peering to the left, Terlu tried to see any break in the evergreen. It appeared endless, but in the far distance, she thought she saw twofigures, a tall one with black-and-gold-streaked hair and a short and plump one with a mess of brown curly hair. She pointed. “Us?”
“Mirrors,” Yarrow said. “He replaced the windows with mirrors, and that”—he waved at the ceiling—“is an illusion. We’re still inside a greenhouse. Just a very large one.”
“But how do we get into the maze? Is it right or left?”
“Neither,” he said. “Straight ahead.” He scooped up the rose, then marched forward directly toward the needles. Lotti gave a little shriek, and the trees scurried back as Yarrow reached them, lifting their roots out of the ground to retreat.
Reaching out a leaf, Lotti poked at a branch. The evergreen didn’t react. Terlu followed the two of them through the gap in the pine trees.
Ahead of them was a maze of sunflowers. Green stalks stood side by side, forming the walls, while the enormous flowers drooped, their brown faces ringed with brilliant yellow petals. It smelled mildly earthy, no strong floral scent, mixed with a hint of pine.
“Hah! This is easy!” Lotti said as she scurried down Yarrow’s torso and legs to the ground. “You just needed someone little like me to figure it out.” She headed for the space between the stalks.
Quickly, Yarrow caught her, cupped in his hands. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Hey! Why—”
A tiny dragon, about the size of a teacup, shot between the stalks. It breathed a candle-size spurt of fire at Lotti and then soared upward. It flew in front of Terlu, only inches from her face.
It was exquisite: an exact miniature of the great dragons of Ilreka. Each scale was a tiny jewel, and its wings were as delicate as a butterfly’s. It looked as if it were made of blown glass. “Wow,” she breathed. “I thought you might be joking.” The leafy mice had been fascinating, but this… this was extraordinary.
“I never joke about pollinators,” Yarrow said.
“Wait, pollinators?” Terlu asked. “They act like bees? Fascinating.” She turned in a circle, looking at the array of sunflowers—theystretched as far as she could see. Little dragons flitted from one sunflower to another, landing on the brown hearts of the flowers.
“What do you call a bee that’s been put under a spell?” Lotti asked.
Terlu raised her eyebrows at the little rose.
“Bee-witched.”
“No,” Yarrow said.
They walked into the sunflower maze and immediately the path split. “Keep a wall to our left at all times,” Terlu suggested. “It won’t be quick, but if we keep a wall to our left, it’ll eventually lead us through.”
“Why do bees hum?” Lotti asked. “Because they can’t remember the words.”
Terlu let her fingers brush the sunflower leaves to her left as they walked. It was only a few yards in before they hit a dead end, but she didn’t slow—she kept her fingers out, brushing the leaves as they walked.
At each junction, she chose left.
