Page 35 of Flowerheart

I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t funny.”

His smile didn’t fade. “But you’re laughing.”

“It’s a pity laugh.”

Xavier touched a hand to his chest. “Thank you, Miss Lucas, for being so charitable towards my poor sense of humor.”

I tried and failed to tamp down laughter. “More of that and I’m going to step on your foot.”

With a laugh, he strode around me, far away from my muddy boots.

I followed him into the shop. Beside the front door were several crates filled with potions, powders, perfumes, and teas. I’d always liked market days with my teachers—meeting new people, getting to see the other vendors and their wares, tasting different foods. But it appeared Xavier expected we’d have many customers to serve. I doubted he would want me wandering about in search of sweets.

“Have you been to the market at Plumford before?” he asked.

“With Papa, a few times.”

“Good. Now let’s see if you can create a portal there.”

I took a calming breath, squeezing my apron in my hands. “How do I start?”

“Can you remember how Plumford looks?”

I nodded.

“Place one hand on the door and the other on the handle,” he instructed. As I did so, he added, “It helps to center you. You need to feel certain. Confident. Feel the metal in your hand. Your palm against the wood.”

With my magic, I was rarely confident. I closed my eyes and focused on my breath, like Madam Ben Ammar had taught me. Breathing in steady as a flowing stream, breathing out like extinguishing a candle.

“Imagine the marketplace,” said Xavier. “The smells, the sounds, the sights. Make it real in your mind.”

Papa had taken me there for my birthday when I was small. It had been bitterly cold that day, but I hadn’t minded. Now, standing before Xavier’s door, I could smell the spiced wine, the sugared plums, the ginger, the caramels. I could hear vendors shouting to one another. Children squealing as they chased each other across open, grassy spaces. The canary-yellow tents and the bright red peppers imported from far away.

“Hold on to that image,” he said, “and now imagine the idea of journey, arrival, completion, and success. Speak those ideas aloud.”

I glanced back at him, unsure. “You sing when you make your portal spells. In Albilan.”

His eyes twinkled. “Ah, yes. It’s a trick my mother taughtme. I think of her songs. Of our trips to visit my grandparents abroad. You, erm, don’t have to sing, of course. You just have to think about traveling.”

“Right,” I murmured. Staring back at the deep green of the door, I thought of my own travels. Papa and I couldn’t afford to leave the country; we hadn’t even been to the capital city. But we’d had other adventures. Memories I held just as close.

“Journey.” The off-key songs I’d sung with Papa as we rode a wagon down to my very first apprenticeship in Oakridge.

“Arrival.”

The long, tight embrace I’d given him just before I stepped into Madam Ben Ammar’s house. My heart squeezed. What I would give to embrace him like that now!

“Completion.”

This time, I pictured something that hadn’t come true—not yet. I would speak the blessing, and Papa’s heart would be healed. He would wrap his arms around me without fear of being harmed.

“Success.”

The thrill of three days before—opening my eyes and seeing a field of beautiful, foreign flowers. Flowers I’dwantedto be there. The warmth of pride in my chest. For a few minutes, I’d successfully controlled my magic.

I knew I’d be able to do it again.

“Now, specify—imagine that you’re there. And when you’re ready, open the door,” said Xavier.

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