Page 60 of A Yulean Sister’s Guide to Getting Kidnapped

“What are these called?” I asked her.

She came over to examine the plant with me. “Lylids. Very pretty.”

“Very,” I agreed. Seeing her next to them only reminded me more.

“Have you always liked plants this much?” I asked, as she ran her fingers over a large leaf.

She looked at me guarded, as if I’d asked her something personal. “I think they’re pretty.”

I raised my brow. “You know the name of them all, and the best way to care for them, because you think they’re pretty?”

She shrugged. “So, what if I do?”

“Then I’d say you’re lying.”

“What do you think it is then? Since you’re sure you know me so well.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Plants… depend on you to care for them, especially inside. I could see that as appealing.”

“How so?” She still didn’t look at me.

“Same way as my ship.”

She huffed a laugh. “Your ship isn’t alive.”

“Sure it is,” I said, eyeing a trowel now that had flower designs carved all over it. “The sails are its lungs, the helm is the brain, the hull contains the organs. And all of us are the vital cells, working to keep it going.”

Her finger tapped her chin. “When you put it like that, I suppose so.”

It was quiet for a bit, until she finally said, “I think I do like having something depend on me. But I also think I like… having a task I know I can succeed at. Plants are very straightforward and tell you exactly what they want from you. More sun, more water, less water. It’s easy to get right.”

The vulnerability in her statement took me by surprise. “Another thing you’re good at,” I said. “I couldn’t keep a plant alive to save my life.”

“You so could,” she said. “You keep a whole ship of people alive.”

“It’s very different. Anne can tell me if she’s feeling ill, and Lou can tell me if there’s a food shortage. A plant just sits silently in the corner. Only its subtleties can be read. I don’t have much skill in subtleties, but it seems you do.”

That light pink shade that matched at least a few of her dresses touched her cheeks gently. I was becoming quite fond of the color.

“Paying attention isn’t a skill,” she countered. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She looked around at all the plants carefully.

“This one,” she said, pulling out a small pot with green stalks sticking from it, little green leaves with white speckles along each one.

“Vazlaire is the perfect one,” she said. “They’re durable and wilt very noticeably when they need water. And they only need a bit of sun.”

She shoved the plant into my hands, and I had no choice but to take it and slither after her to the counter.

“A great pick for indoors,” the clerk said.

I paid for the plant, which was apparently now mine, before we left. Now I had five bags and a plant all in my arms.

But when we left the store Sage looked… lighter. A smile graced her lips that I’d only seen one other time, and felt so rare it was the best kind of treasure.

“We should probably get to the library before Bramwell thinks we abandoned him,” she said, starting towards the building.

But I was stuck there, tail coiling as if I were in quicksand. Her lightness had stunned me in a way I wasn’t used to.