Through the roses.
Through the ferns.
And into the greenhouse that Terlu had walked through on her first day awake, the one that should have been dripping with humidity. It was overflowing with greenery, every inch filled with fat leaves and tangled vines, but the air felt chill. Above, Terlu instantly saw what had gone wrong:
The sun had died.
She remembered this greenhouse had had a false sun at the peak, so intense that she’d had to squint to look at it. Now its cupola was a smoky gray, like a hearth soot-stained after years of fires.
The dragonflies, the ones who had danced around the sun with their diamond bodies and golden wings, had all already fled. She didn’t see a single one left in the dying greenhouse.
Snap.
A crack spread up a pane of glass, branching as it reached up toward the cupola.
“I have to save the plants,” Yarrow said.
“Tell us what to do,” Terlu said.
“Us?”
Terlu looked at Lotti, Dendy, Risa, and all the other sentient plants. She didn’t want to speak for them, but if she was any judge—
“Me,” Lotti said.
Dendy said firmly, “Us.”
The others shouted their agreement, then fell silent, trembling, frightened but ready. Terlu felt a swell of pride for them. Only a day ago, they’d been caught in an enchanted sleep, and now they were eager to spring into action, to work together to help others.
Yarrow looked at them for a half second as if he wanted to say more, then he nodded. “Last time this happened, the greenhouse temperature plummeted to subzero and then rose to scorchingly hot—the enchantments don’t just fail; they go awry. We have to get as many plants as possible out before that happens. Including yourselves. Do you understand? Don’t risk yourselves.”
Lotti clapped her leaves together. It sounded like fabric slapping against fabric. “You heard him! Let’s do this.” Pausing, she looked up at Yarrow and Terlu. “What exactly do we do?”
Yarrow was already working. He’d shed his coat on the floor, rolled up his sleeves, and was ramming a shovel into the dirt near a hibiscus bush.
Terlu scanned the greenhouse quickly. Much of the greenery was planted directly into beds on the ground, but the potted plants could be moved first. “You, you, and you”—she pointed to the plants who looked strongest and had the most vines, leaves, and tendrils for grabbing and hauling—“begin with the pots. Drag them into the next room. Yarrow, shovels and trowels? Small enough for the plants to use?”
“Go east two greenhouses, then left at the roses. There’s a storage bin in the corner of the citrus room,” Yarrow said without pausing.
“I’ll get them,” Terlu said. “Dendy, as soon as Yarrow gets that bush uprooted, you and your friends should haul it into the next room. It can be replanted after everything is saved.”
“Yes, ma’aaam,” Dendy said.
She sprinted through the greenhouses, took a left at the roses, and charged onward until she reached a greenhouse filled with lemon, lime, and grapefruit trees. The distinctive scent of citrus curled around her, and she breathed it in as she panted. It flooded her senses. She looked for her favorite orange trees—Focus, Terlu. Sightsee later.
Which corner had the tools? She wished she’d asked. Every second she wasted could mean the loss of another plant. Huffing, she jogged to the closest corner. It held a lemon tree, with brilliant yellow fruit nestled between the leaves.
Next corner—
Yes!
Terlu loaded every trowel into a wheelbarrow, plus two shovels—there were more, but trowels would be easier for the sentient plants to grasp and lift with their leaves and tendrils—and she rushed back through the greenhouses. Sweat dampened her armpits, and she puffed as she ran with the wheelbarrow wobbling side to side. She nearly spilled it twice, but she made it back.
All the sentient plants were working, hauling pots across the dying greenhouse and into the safety of the next room.
Cradling the tools, Terlu halted and puffed. She hadn’t run in… She couldn’t remember when. She wasn’t built for it. Her lungs burned as she gasped in air. But she forced herself to move again and begin distributing the tools.
“Give me a shovel,” Risa demanded.
