Page 19 of Flowerheart

There was that small, bitter grievance within me again, like a pain that only came when it rained. “Do you write tothem?” I asked.

He pursed his lips. “As often as I can. I’ll be sure to tell them that you’re here now. They’ll be thrilled.” He gave the spines of the books on the shelves a little pat. “Anyhow, these books bear a great deal of knowledge on old magic; blessings and curses and the like. You can come here to study whenever you want. You’ll learn more from the books than from me, I’m certain.”

I shut the book and held it by my ear with a smirk. “Well, the books don’t seem to be as adept at conversation as you are.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I suppose human company is preferable.” He about-faced and marched out into the hall. “I’ll show you your room.”

I placed the book on a nearby table and followed him. Just as I crossed through the doorway of the library, I heard a fluttering sound behind me, like a bird taking flight. I whipped my head back to see. The crimson book I’d placed aside had lifted itself up, zipping through the air like a cardinal, and lightly placed itself back on its perch on the shelf. I smiled,remembering. Xavier and I used to play in this library, seeing whose book could fly back to its shelf the fastest.

“Miss Lucas?” Xavier called. He was waiting for me in the stairwell.

“Why do you call me Miss Lucas?” I asked as we ascended. “Do you insist I call you ‘Master Morwyn’ or ‘Your Greatness’?”

“Well, I—it’s proper. We aren’t children anymore.”

“‘It’s proper,’” I echoed. “It’s just the two of us here!”

It was beginning to feel like he’d completely forgotten that little boy he’d once been. Skipping rocks, racing down dusty roads, giving me tight hugs when I grew jealous that he had a mother.Thatwas Xavier. This person was the all-important and respected wizard, His GreatnessMaster Morwyn.

Up one more flight of winding stairs, we reached a small landing with a single pale door, the chipped paint exposing bits of wood. He twisted the pewter handle and held the door open for me.

I faintly remembered this room. It was round, with stone walls painted white. There was a birch table with a chair and a mirror. A bed was draped in a quilt dappled in pink, orange, and yellow diamonds. Beside it stood a nightstand with a stub of a candle left in the candlestick, and hanging over the bed was a bundle of dried flowers. There was one round window over the length of the bed, and another on the opposite curve of the wall. A little embroidery hoop was affixed near the window, embroidered with drooping flowers and messyscript declaringWelcometo the lodger. Above, the domed ceiling was pale blue, covered in real, wispy clouds that drifted past and then evanesced into nothing.

“I’m sorry to put you in the guest room,” he said in a small voice as he set down my valise and carpetbag. “My family’s rooms are technically available, but—”

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

It was nothing like my room in Williamston, cluttered full of memories and books and always smelling of vanilla and sugar from the kitchen across the hall. But it was charming, and seeing the desperate, timid look in his eyes, I made sure to show him the most genuine smile I could muster.

I craned my neck, peering out the window. Lime-green hills spread across the horizon like ocean waves.

I gasped as a memory struck me. “We used to play pirates here!”

Xavier’s brows rose. “I remember. You were always the captain.”

Not anymore. I opened my carpetbag and removed the apron I’d folded into a tight roll. “Now you’re at the helm,” I said. “We should start our lessons. No good in wasting time chattering.”

“How did your father fare last night?” he asked.

I pressed the apron hard against my chest to combat the groaning, tugging feeling of my magic.Your fault, your fault, your fault.

“He isn’t doing well, I’m afraid,” I said. “Madam BenAmmar has her apprentice taking care of him, but...” I let the rest of my thoughts dissipate into thin air. “I hate to think of it. That even beingnearmy magic could poison him, somehow.” My stomach fell. “What if—what if it hurts you, too?”

“You’ve lived with your father all your life and hadn’t hurt him so far. And I believe you’ll be ready to bless him in a few weeks.” Xavier shrugged, as if this was all perfectly normal and manageable. “I should be perfectly safe for so short a time,” he said. His confidence verged on naivete. Dread and fear coiled in my stomach and made my lip tremble even more.

Just like yesterday, a handkerchief entered my line of sight. Xavier offered it with a weak, apologetic smile. “Now, here. Cry as much as you like.”

I snatched up the handkerchief, my cheeks burning. “I—I thought expressing emotions exacerbated one’s magic.”

“It releases it, yes. But if you don’t express your power somehow, it’ll build up and become even more dangerous. So crying, it’s—it’s good, you see.”

In all my years of training, I’d never heard such an idea. Papa had once said if someone wrote down everything I said in one day, they’d fill a library twice over. But now I was speechless.

“I, er... I missed you,” he said.

My head jerked up.

His cheeks had turned red, the same as when we were children and his mother fussed with his hair in front of me.Seeing him blush, and knowing that I was the cause, made my stomach flutter.

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