Page 66 of Flowerheart

I hadn’t realized I wouldn’t bemyselfwithout my magic. My chest remained hollow and cold. An empty geode, filled with plain, dusty rock.

Xavier was the same way. When he’d first discovered his power as a child, he whooped and hollered and ran around his house. We’d had so much hope, dreaming of how magic would be a shining part of our futures together. That love of magic was still a part of him. You could see it in the kindness towards his customers. In the thorns that sprang up around him when he’d failed Emily. Even the twinkle in his eyes as he regarded the shelves, stocked with potions he’d made himself.

Would I even recognize him without magic, were he to fail? Were he to lose his and my magic forever?

Madam Ben Ammar patted my arm. “You don’t need to concern yourself with Master Morwyn’s punishment, Clara. You can gather your things, and when Robin graduates in a few days’ time, I’ll take you on as my apprentice again. After that blessing you performed, I’m sure I could make a case for you to study with me in Queensborough.”

I could have had that life. I could have had another year of training my magic, of finally tempering it, if I hadn’t given it up.

Madam Ben Ammar beamed at me, pride still glimmering in her eyes. “With your father back in good health, you’ll be able to tend to your studies without worrying, and surely you’ll be ready to be certified—”

“It’s not too late,” I piped up. “Xavier could make the cure. He could keep his powers.”

The smile faded from Madam Ben Ammar’s lips. She gathered the black satin of her dress in her fists. “Yes. Yes, he could.”

She gave my shoulder a firm pat. “When youareready to continue your education, just let me know. You’ve only just gotten your father back—take all the time you need.”

Then she drew close, pulling me into a tight hug. My heart ached.

“I am so very proud of you,” she whispered.

I hated myself. I hated that I’d given away my gift, that she suspected nothing.

“I know how hard you’ve been fighting your magic,” she continued. “It’s wonderful to see it finally listening to you.”

She wasn’t the one I longed to hear this praise from. I pictured Xavier’s bright smile, how proud tears would spring into his eyes. He would demand to hear every single detail of the blessing I’d cast.

“I’d have been hopeless without Xavier’s help.” I whispered.

Madam Ben Ammar laughed, sharp and one-beat, pullingback from me. “Oh, no, dear. You didn’t need his teaching, or that vow. You’ve had this strength all along.”

She rose and swept back into the kitchen, her head held high. The door swung shut behind her. I only had a few moments to myself before Papa would grow suspicious.

I hunched over, my eyes screwed shut as I waited for the familiar burning of my power.

“Magic?” I whispered. “If you’re still there, you must give me a sign. Break something if you wish. Just answer me.”

I waited. There was no voice in my head, no churning in my stomach, no tingling in my fingertips or sweat on my palms. I gazed at the lines on my hands and hoped for flames to burst forth or flowers to start blooming from the sleeves of my blouse. But there were no more miracles.

There never would be. That dream of mine, along with the wish to work side by side with Xavier—to beMorwyn and Lucas—was dead.

17

Iwas supposed to be happy.

So why couldn’t I pull myself out of bed?

I hated myself for it, but every part of me ached. Pain pulsed behind my eyes, and when I tossed and turned in my little bed, I thought of how I ought to be waking up in the Morwyns’ tower.

The silence my magic had left behind chilled me. I tugged my quilt over my head, leaving my stockinged feet uncovered.

The door to my bedroom clicked, and I heard the familiar padding of Papa’s feet on the floorboards. His fingertips brushed against the inch of my head not swallowed up by my quilt.

“Where’s my early riser?” he cooed.

I didn’t speak. Any complaint I had felt like a betrayal of him. We had fought so hard for him to be happy and healthy.It should have been enough. It should have been all I ever needed. I was selfish and foolish for wanting anything else; especially for wanting my magic, which had hurt and pestered me for so many years, to come back.

The part of the mattress beside my head tilted slightly as Papa sat next to me. He peeled back the quilt, making my vision go white from the sunshine spilling from my window. I glared, both at him and the light, until I could finally focus on his face.

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