Page 17 of Flowerheart

Another secret to keep from Papa. “All right,” I told her, gazing down at the card, a little rectangular piece of sky. “Do you think shewouldcontact me?”

Madam Ben Ammar lifted a shoulder. “She’s unpredictable. But you are about to come of age. In truth, I—” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat, smoothing the wrinkle-free front of her black gown. “I fear that she would seek you out as an apprentice.”

The very idea was absurd, verging on offensive. I shoved the card into the pocket of my skirt as if to silence the doubt now blooming in my mind. Even if shedidwantme, I’d refuse. I’dfight.“I want nothing to do with her.”

She squeezed my free hand through my thick gardening gloves. “Good girl. And truly—if you need anything, simply call on me.”

Madam Ben Ammar opened the door for me and let me through. Xavier had retreated to his spot beside the counter, his foot tapping and his arms folded. I supposed he had grown out of eavesdropping.

“Miss Lucas will be sure to report to the Council if she sees anything... out of place,” said the witch as she stood in the doorway. “She will be watching you closely.”

“I will?” I peeped. Was I to be some sort of spy for her? Was Xavier evenworthyof such suspicion?

But he just bowed to her. “Understood.”

She smiled to me, said, “Goodbye, Clara,” and snapped the door shut behind her.

We turned to one another with wide eyes.

“What did you do to offend her?” I asked.

His hair flopped over his eyes as he lifted my bags. “A great many things, I’m sure. Now, then, let’s reacquaint you with the house.”

With a tilt of his head, he gestured to the kitchen, warm and bathed in morning light. “The kitchen and shop area, as you’ll recall. You’ll help me sort and label the potion ingredients there. As for food, you’re welcome to anything in the pantry—”

Despite the storm clouds in my mind, a fanciful memory made me clasp my hands together in excitement. “Does the magic cupboard still work?”

He laughed. “It does. Shall we check it?”

I nodded and he set my bags back down. Following in his footsteps, he led me to a cupboard next to the washbasin. It was pale white, not honey-colored like the rest of the kitchen’s storage.

“It seemed so high up when we were young,” I murmured. Now Xavier didn’t have to reach very far at all as he twisted the knob of the little white door.

The cupboard was empty, except for two small chocolate bonbons, wrapped neatly in white paper. I gasped delightedly.

“I suppose it knew I’d be having company.”

When we were children, all five of us together, we’d beghis mother to open the magic cupboard for us. There were always treasures hidden inside, little sweets or toys or even books the size of a child’s palm.

“Who built the cupboard again?” I asked as I unwrapped my bonbon. “Your grandfather?”

“My grandmother.” When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Every Morwyn who has magic adds something to the house. Father enchanted the bookshelves upstairs, Great-Grandfather made the staircase, Great-Great-Grandmother made the ceiling in the tower room... on and on for six hundred years. And Grandmother wanted something that would delight the children who’d live here.” He dropped the second chocolate into my gloved hand. “Here, you can have mine.”

He breezed past me, sweeping up my baggage again. I gaped at how quickly he’d brushed aside the memories, but was startled into moving by his call. “Come along!”

I scampered behind him and kept my chocolate in my cheek like a chipmunk. “What didyouadd to the house?” I asked his back.

“Nothing yet. I’ve not had the time.”

That sounded like nonsense to me. Xavier used to babble excitedly about how, when his turn came, he’d make a room that spun until you got dizzy, or a floor that let you jump three feet in the air. For him to be so uninterested now was entirely uncharacteristic.

“If it were up to me,” I said, “I’d make a room with an orchard. And you could pick fresh berries every day for tarts.”

He snickered. “What if the door opened into a different bakery every day? So you could get berry tarts all you wanted.”

I could almost picture us as children, grabbing up as many pastries as we could carry. “For free, of course?”

“Of course.”

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