Page 94 of Flowerheart

“A splendid night indeed. But there’s a very nice young man outside who has a surprise for you. Perhaps you’d prefer to dance with him once you see it.”

“When I see what?”

Papa grinned mischievously and pointed towards the front door. I rolled my eyes and carefully lifted the hem of my long skirts, stepping out into the evening air.

A ladder was propped up against our little cottage. A box of tools had been left open on the grass beside it. With a frown, I stepped onto the lawn.

Xavier was perched on a high rung, affixing some sort of metal attachment over the door. He wore no jacket; only a simple, pale shirt with the sleeves rolled back, his hair tied in a short little queue. I gaped.

“Xavier Morwyn?” I asked. “Is that you?”

In his alarm, he dropped something onto the grass—a screwdriver. “Oh, curse me—ah, Clara! I didn’t see you! This was supposed to be a surprise, but, er... one moment, onemoment.” He picked something off of the roof and slipped it onto the small metal pole he’d been attaching. It was a wooden sign, which read, in neat, painted letters,Lucas’s Magical Goods and Services.

“I thought you could use this, since we start work tomorrow,” he said, climbing down the ladder and hopping onto the grass. He stood at my side, observing his handiwork. “I think I’ve hung it a bit crooked, but I’ll get better at working with my hands one of these days.”

I stared up at the sign that declared me a witch.

My dream.

My dream.

“I—I figured that since I couldn’t add on to my own house, I may as well add to yours. But, er.” He scratched his head. “Do you like it?”

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. I sniffed noisily.

You love him,my magic said.

Xavier wrenched a handkerchief from his breast pocket and passed it to me. I gratefully pressed it to my eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

“It’s lovely.” I curled against him, my cheek against his heart. “After so long, I doubted I’d ever work in a shop, let aloneownone!”

He gently tucked a ginger curl back into place in my elaborate coiffure. “I always knew you’d be a witch, ever since we were young.”

I pressed closer to him, caring very little for how it would disturb my hair. “But it’s not fair,” I whispered. “How—how do you feel? I felt sowrongwhen my magic had left me. So empty.”

His lips touched the top of my head. “It will take some getting used to. But... what scared me the most about losing my magic was the thought that I could no longer help anyone. Working alongside you today and giving that cure to Miss Kinley... I felt just as grateful and proud as I did when I had it.”

Leaning back, my arms still around him, I beamed at him. “Then I think we should add your name to the sign, too. We’ll be ‘Morwyn and Lucas,’ just like we always said.”

Xavier smiled. He rested his chin atop my head and inspected the sign. “I think my name would have to be in very, very small letters.”

“As long as it’s the two of us.”

I stood on the toes of my dancing shoes to kiss him... when a loudslamsounded, like a door being shut somewhere on the hills around us.

To our left, a few paces down the gravel road, four figures stood beside an isolated emerald door. In a moment, it evanesced into green dust. With the door gone, the four women ran fast towards us through the sunlight. Xavier gasped.

His mother. His sisters.

“Xavier!” cried Inés, throwing her arms around him ina hug. Leonor and Dalia were quick to join her, and even pulled me into their embrace, jabbering about how hereallyneeded a haircut and about how brave he’d been, standing up to their father.

Their father—who wasn’t there.

“Mamá,” said Xavier in a small voice. “I—I thought you and Father wanted to leave me on my own.”

The lovely, dark-haired woman stepped closer, holding a bundle of black and white fabric against her chest. “Vitus has his own troubles to sort through. We’ve spent too long being away from you. It’s foolish of him to be so cold.” She reached out to her boy, brushing a lock of black hair behind his ear. “This independence suits you.” Her hand cradled his cheek. “Loneliness did not.”

---