Page 40 of Flowerheart

He nodded slowly. “My project for the Council—I’m trying to make the cure for its effects.”

My brow furrowed. “Madam Ben Ammar said it was a joy potion—and something about dandelions?”

“Well, it... it’s not reallyjoythey’re feeling. If it was meant to treat melancholy, it doesn’t succeed. It just gives the patient a false sensation of happiness for a day. On the second day, it escalates to delirium, and dandelion buds grow on the skin. By the third day, the final stage, the dandelions start toblossom, and patients enter a dreamlike, sleepwalking state. We’ve been unable to wake them.”

“What—what is done for them then?”

His voice grew softer and softer. “They can eat and drink, thankfully, but they’ve lost themselves. They cannot hear or see anything but the dream playing itself in their heads. Their bodies are there, but their spirits, their very selves, it’s... it’s like they’re gone.”

No wonder he was so adamant against its usage. And no wonder Madam Ben Ammar was hunting it down with such fervor. It was dangerous indeed, and more so because it was so desirable. A potion that provided instant escape.

“What is the Council doing about this?” I asked.

“We’re working on creating the cure.”

I frowned. “We?”

“Other Councilmembers are experimenting with possible cures, too. But I differ because I have a deadline. I’m to create the potion by Midsummer.”

This was absurd. “You—you’resixteen.Why are you expected to—”

“Because I’m a Morwyn,” he said.

“Was this your father’s idea?”

“He’s the one who proposed I be given the deadline. He wants me to make it before anyone else does.”

I hated it. I hated him having to carry such a burden. It was cruel, placing the fate of others’ lives and happiness in thehands of one boy. All for the sake of family honor.

“And what if you fail?” I asked. “What would happen then?”

He lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine. “If I fail, the Council will take my powers from me.”

My eyes widened. “What? But—why would they do such a thing? And with your powers already bound—how are you supposed to make such an important potion under those conditions?”

“It’s all very complicated,” he muttered.

I understood his anxiety. His sleeplessness. His doubt. A future without magic loomed before him. That is, until I came along.

No,I thought,he is not exactly the same Xavier as before.

“Is that why you wanted my power?” I asked, my voice growing fainter. “Because you fear you’ll lose your own?”

He exhaled, not out of frustration, but softly, like he could finally breathe easily again. “Yes,” he said.

So this was the truth. He was so confident that he’d fail, he had already begun to plan what he’d do if he lost his magic.“Do you have so little faith in yourself, then?”

“It’s hopeless.” He shook his head, not daring to face me. “I’ve spent every night for three months on this project. I give one draught to a patient; it doesn’t work; I try another—it’s useless. I make the perfect potion; I canfeelmy magic buzzing inside of the bottle... but it does nothing. It’s a fool’s errand.”

I couldn’t bear to see him so hopeless. I approached him, my fingertips grazing his arm. “Unless...”

He frowned at me. “Unless?”

“I could help you with the potion,” I said.

His furrowed brow smoothed. “It’s very kind of you to offer,” he said softly. “But you have important matters of your own. You need to bless your father.”

“I could learn to train my magic by helping you,” I said. “I know I’m a bit of a mess myself, but my magic is starting to listen to me. And besides, you could use some help, even if I’m just chopping ingredients.”

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