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EVEN WITH ROSIE as her guide, it was hours before they made it to the bridge where the yeti had rescued her the first time.
Kanella pulled her warm wool cloak closer around her, cradling the flower where it sat in its bag. She was much warmer this time now that she was better equipped, though they were back on the mountainside and the snow swirled around them. Her heart pounded, a mix of the altitude, the exertion, and her own anxiety, and each breath was a puff of white quickly lost in the flying flurries. Rosie was only a few steps ahead of her, stopping every few moments to check that Kanella hadn’t fallen behind. Kanella was grateful for her guidance, though she was silent the whole way. She never could have made it this far on her own.
Kanella could almost feel Batsal’s warm, strong arms around her, welcoming her home. Could hear her father’s laugh. Could see the joy of her pending wedding. Could imagine the future she’d always wanted with the love of her life.
Her eyes drifted down to Rosie as they approached the bridge, and a pang of guilt stabbed her side. Rosie had become a friend. Was she really willing to say goodbye and move on that quickly? That easily?
For the first time since she’d arrived at the temple, Kanella felt conflicted about leaving. Hadn’t she been given good things there too? She had Rosie and the reflection and even the yeti. They had all become as dear to her as Ditya. And in the end, hadn’t she finally learned to speak up for herself and her needs?
Maybe leaving it all behind wasn’t the happy occasion she thought it would be. She would go back. It wasn’t the end.
***
ROSIE AND KANELLA MADE their way down the mountain, weaving along the path that led back down to Kanella’s home. To Batsal. To her father and her future.
How much had her father suffered while she’d been gone?
Finally, they were at Kanella’s door, and Rosie stepped to the side, sitting primly against the stone wall. “I’ll wait here.” She looked away, mouth moving as if she wanted to say something.
Kanella knelt in front of her. “Rosie? What is it?”
Rosie turned tormented eyes back to her. “Just... Can I ask a favor?”
“Of course, anything!”
“If the lotus has a seed... Could you bring it back to me? Please?”
Kanella furrowed her brows. “A seed? Do you want to replant it?”
Rosie nodded slowly, her sharp tooth biting her bottom lip.
“Rosie, what else aren’t you telling me?”
Rosie looked back up at her, eyes clouded, conflicted about something.
“Rosie?”
The panda took a deep breath, then finally said, “The master would never have told you.”
“But?”
“The lotus is part of the spell. An older spell, the one that made our temple a safe haven. The creatures that cursed us... They were sending snow to kill it. We ran out of time, but there’s still time for you. A chance for the flower to do some good before it’s dead. Before... before we’re gone, too.”
Kanella’s heart flipped, her stomach sinking. “What does that mean?”
“Without the flower, the temple will die.”
Kanella caught her breath. “Die? What about... you?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Rosie said, unconsciously mimicking what the yeti had said before they’d left. She shrugged but smiled at Kanella warmly. “We’ll stay like this. We were too late.” She looked up at the mountains again. “But beyond that we aren’t sure. We may keep our thoughts. Or we may become fully beast.”
Kanella swallowed. This was all her fault. How could she have been so single-minded that she couldn’t even ask what it meant for them? “What if we took the flower back now?”
Rosie shook her head. “He already picked it. What’s done is done. Please, go to your father. Don’t let the master’s sacrifice be in vain.”
Kanella rose to her feet, expression grim. “I’ll find a seed. We’ll make this right. I promise.”
Rosie looked back at Kanella, eyes watery. “Go, Kanella.”
Kanella blinked at the burning in her eyes and ran into the house, straight for her father’s room. It was nearly the same as it had been when the reflection showed her, and the only one missing was Batsal. But as she walked through the doorway, every eye turned to her. Carefully, deliberately, before anyone said a word, she pulled the flower from her bag. Its glow lit the room like the warmest spring day, painting everyone’s surprised faces in golden light. Ditya held a hand over her mouth, tears glimmering in her eyes, and the doctor couldn’t take his eyes off the flower.
The doctor slowly rose to his feet. “How did you...?”
Kanella shook her head wordlessly, too strung out to respond. Instead she just handed the flower to him and pressed her lips together, holding back tears.
The doctor wasted no time, rushing from the room and toward the small kitchen, Kanella on his heels. He pulled a mortar and pestle and several bottles of various powders and liquids from his bag, then began pulling petals from the magic flower. Kanella watched with held breath, anxious to see how the process would change the flower.
Whether there would be seeds.
Sure enough, as more of the petals were removed from the flower, a bright green seed pod appeared. Kanella looked up at the healer, hoping he wouldn’t need it, that she might be able to help both her father and the temple. The doctor plucked the last petal, dropping it into the mortar, but he didn’t touch the pod.
“M-may I?” Kanella said, gesturing at the pod, her heart pounding.
“Yes,” he mumbled, crushing up the petals with some of his potions and releasing the bright scent of crushed plants into the room.
Kanella tucked the pod back into her bag, but before she could take it back out to Rosie, the doctor poured the mix into a small cup and strode briskly back across the room, straight for the bedroom. The cup in his hand and the mortar and pestle left on the table glowed with the same bright sunlight yellow.
Kanella followed on his heels back to her father’s bedside, then stopped next to Ditya as the doctor bent over her father. Ditya wrapped her arms around the younger woman, holding her close and stroking her hair like she had when Kanella was younger, just after her mother had passed. Kanella leaned into the embrace, grateful for the woman’s presence.
Ditya leaned her head against Kanella’s. “Everything will be all right, my dear. One way or another.”
Kanella’s heart pounded. She couldn’t let herself hope, not yet. Her father’s life was on the line... and so were the temple and her friends there.
The doctor finally stepped back, and they all watched in silence. When would they know if the magic had done its work?
What if this had all been for nothing?
Her father suddenly gasped from the bed, his eyes squeezed closed, and Kanella caught her breath. She took a step toward his bedside, but Ditya held her back, pulling her close again.
“Just wait,” the older woman whispered. “Wait and see.”
Kanella glanced at Ditya, whose eyes shone with more than tears. It was hope. Expectation. She believed this would work.
Kanella turned back to her father. Hopefully she was right.
The gasping turned to a thrashing, and the doctor stepped forward to ensure her father didn’t fall from the bed or hit anything, but other than that, he didn’t do anything.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Her father blinked his eyes open, then, with the help of the doctor, he sat up and scanned the room.
His eyes landed on his daughter. “Kanella?”
Kanella swiped tears from her eyes and rushed forward. “Father!”
Her father swung his legs over the side of the bed and opened his arms wide. She fell into them, resting her ear against his heart and nearly sobbing at its strong beat. Ditya appeared only a moment later, and Kanella pulled back just in time to see a look pass between them that she’d never seen before.
Were Ditya and her father in love?
Her heart swelled, and after several long moments embracing the only family she had left, she reluctantly stepped back to look at the two of them. They were so happy together... just like she hoped she could still be with Batsal.
Her hand bumped her bag and the cool lump of the seed pod within. She couldn’t relax yet. Couldn’t go see Batsal. She wasn’t done yet.
Her face sank, and her father looked up at her questioningly.
Kanella swiped at another errant tear, her heart pounding again—this time with fear. Would she be too late to save the temple? What would happen to Rosie and the yeti? “I have to do something else. I made a promise. Are you...?” She turned to the healer. “Will he be okay now?”
The doctor gave her a tired but triumphant smile. “He will.”
She turned to Ditya. “I won’t be long. But...”
Ditya’s face softened with knowledge. “Batsal.”
Kanella pressed her lips together and nodded.
Her father stood, supported by Ditya, his voice hoarse. “Kanella, I don’t know what you had to do. What you must do now. But we will ensure Batsal knows. He will be waiting when you return.”
Kanella nodded, eyes burning again. She was grateful now that Batsal hadn’t been here when she’d arrived; she might never be able to leave if he had been.
She began turning toward the door, then hesitated again. “Soon. I promise.”
Ditya and her father nodded.
“Soon,” Ditya said. “Now go. So you may return.”
Kanella rushed from the room before she could change her mind. She darted for the door, pulling it shut quickly behind her and spinning to where she’d left Rosie.
Rosie was still there, but something was... different. The knowing had left her eyes, and in its place was the gaze of a beast.
