Page 36 of Flowerheart

I could picture it so clearly. I knew full well that when I drew back that door, we would be square in the middle of a bustling, fragrant market, and Xavier would beam with pride.

Eagerly, I tugged it open.

Outside was an empty field.

“I—I don’t know what I did wrong,” I said.

He peeked over my shoulder. “It was your first portal,” he said. “You should be proud of yourself. On my first try, the door opened onto a great black abyss.”

“It may as well be an abyss.”

He squinted at the horizon and covered his eyes as sunlight streamed into the shop. “Wait a moment. Do you see that tree over there?”

I peered at what seemed to be a scraggly bush in the distance.

“That’s the old oak tree outside of the market!” He laughed and touched my arm.

Before I could register this, he drew back and glanced hastily at the doorway. “You took us too far! The market is over there!”

Looking closer, I could see the shop tents, like little blots of paint. Even from here, I could hear merchants shouting and see shoppers bustling around. I gasped. “I did it?”

“You did it,” he said, nodding.

I whooped with delight and hopped in place in front of the open door. “Bravo, magic!” I declared. It fizzled through me, making tiny sparks flit in the air around me like fireflies.

“I would never diminish your accomplishment, Miss Lucas,” said Xavier, “but it would be better if we were a bit closer to the market itself. Do you mind if I make a new portal?”

The embers vanished at once. “Well... no, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to exhaust yourself.” Thanks to his sleepless nights, the smallest spells were leaving him breathless and weary. When he made portals before, he’d nearly swooned from the effort.

He frowned. “I can handle a simple portal spell. It’d be better than carrying our wares all that way, anyhow.”

Before I could open my mouth to argue, he drew the door shut, pressed his forehead against it, and softly hummed. When he opened the door again, we were flooded by sounds and smells. Noisy vendors, parents shouting at their children to behave, and horses whinnying. Fresh pastries, smoke, and wet grass.

But I was distracted from all of them as Xavier fell into a nearby chair, holding a trembling hand to his temple. Blood dripped from his nose.

“Xavier!” I exclaimed, fishing his handkerchief from my pocket and pressing it beneath his nose. He blushed from his widow’s peak to the sliver of skin between his chin and hiscollar and then nudged my hand aside, holding the piece of cloth on his own.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. With his eyes still shut tight, he waved an arm towards the stack of boxes. “Take that roll of canvas outside. There’ll be an empty space in the grass.”

I tore my eyes from him and reluctantly picked up the long, tightly rolled canvas.

“It’s already enchanted,” he explained, voice muffled beneath the handkerchief. “Unroll it like a picnic blanket and it will form a tent on its own. Go on—don’t worry about me.”

I did as he said and carried the fabric out the door, stepping onto the damp grass. The longer I stayed behind, the more embarrassed he was bound to be.

Alone for a moment, I basked in the sunshine, imagining that I was simply part of the crowd of people milling around me. Folks tended to their stalls, wrapping glassware or boxing up beautiful pastries, while others peeked into tents or left with gifts or the week’s shopping. The sound of people chattering was as lovely and familiar to me as birdsong. Shoppers nodded courteously as they passed, and a child waved as she rushed after her mother.

They couldn’t see the magic burning inside of me. They couldn’t see the mistakes I’d made, or where I’d come from, or that I had a witch for a mother and a father I’d cursed. I was ordinary.

Well, except for the enchanted tent I carried in my arms. I glanced back behind me, where Xavier remained in a chair,his handkerchief still pressed to his bloody nose.

Stepping away from the door, I whipped the canvas like a bedsheet. It fluttered back to the ground, and with a stiffpop!it became a tent with three walls and a pointed roof. Peering within, I found a counter, three shelves for merchandise, a coatrack, and even a clock hanging from the tight, ivory-colored fabric. On the outside, a wooden sign hung over the mouth of the tent:Master Morwyn’s Magical Goods and Services.

“Quite an enchantment for someone who gets a nosebleed from a portal spell,” I muttered.

I wondered if something had happened to him to leave him in such a state. If his emotions had become so stifled that his magic was starting to retaliate against him. Otherwise, it didn’t make sense. The Morwyns were known for their power.Xavierwas known for his power. That he’d become an official wizardanda Councilmember all at the age of fifteen was unprecedented. Why, then, was his magic ailing him this way?

My stomach dipped.

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