The day the Council had first visited me, they had proposed a spell that would bind my magic, weaken it—and make it painful to use.
Xavier had protested.
Perhaps his magic had been bound, too. Perhapsthatwas why he had been so ready to make the vow, to take my magic as payment for his help. After being burdened with stifled, agonizing magic, he would finally have theopposite problem. Unbridled power.
But why would the Council bind his magic at all?
I walked back to the emerald-colored doorway standing isolated in the grass. Xavier was still in his chair, one hand against his nose, the other on his forehead. The worrying half of me urged me to make certain that he’d be all right. My much-quieter common sense told me to leave the poor man alone. I listened to the latter and wordlessly carried the crates of potions out into the tent.
As I placed the bottles and boxes along the shelves inside the stand, Xavier appeared, slouching, in the entryway.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said.
I lowered my gaze to the grass. “I confess I’m worried for you.” When he opened his mouth, I held up a hand. “You have to admit it’s cause for concern, seeing you tire so easily.” My own magic tightened its grip on my stomach. “The Council bound your magic, didn’t they?”
He stared unblinking at me and worked his lip beneath his teeth. Then he said, “I—they... yes.”
Despite the summer heat, ice seemed to fill my veins. Along with pity, I felt the smallest light of hope. If they had done this to Xavier, perhaps his magic used to be like mine. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one like this.
“Was it as wild as mine is?” I asked. “Did they bind it as a means of controlling it?”
He gave a stiff nod, locks of dark hair drooping over his eyes. “Yes. My magic... gave me a great deal of trouble.”
So hewaslike me. Xavier the powerful, the prodigy, the certified wizard—his magic had been wild, too.
If he had only told me sooner, we could have found comfort in this shared misery. Maybe he was too ashamed to speak of it.What kind of Morwyn am I?he’d say.To have uncontrollable magic?
“Well,” I said softly, “I’m sorry the Council put you through that.”
Xavier waved a hand. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I said. “I know what it’s like to have disobedient magic, and it’s awful. Humiliating. Frightening.”
I curled my hands against the countertop. I feared my magic enough as it was. If every attempted spell made me feel as weary as Xavier looked, I was certain I would dread using my magic. Even if every enchantment was for a good cause. “I think you have every right to be frustrated.”
A half-smile began to dawn on his face. “Thank you, Miss Lucas. You’re very kind.”
Then he gasped and turned on his heel. An old lady in a worn orange shawl smiled meekly up at him as she tugged on his sleeve.
“Oh, excuse me, young man,” she said. “I was just looking for the wizard.”
He laughed, holding a hand to his heart. “That would be me. Come in—my apprentice and I will help you.”
9
Customers were even more eager to visit our little tent than they had been at the storefront.
An old man thanked me profusely for the potion I gave him to ease his back pain. A woman bought an anti-inflammatory tonic and fondly mentioned that Xavier’s mother had helped her prepare for the birth of her daughter.
It seemed that everyone who came had a story about the wonders the Morwyns had done. Standing there with Xavier, I allowed myself to imagine a world whereIwas responsible for helping so many people. Where I could see the faces of the people I’d healed, and shake hands with them.
After packing up a box of salves for a harried family of five, I stood in the entryway, watching the father pull their wooden cart full of groceries. The three daughters skipped along, laughing and singing at the top of their lungs. They reminded me of Xavier’s sisters. When I looked back athim, at the pain in his eyes, I could tell he thought the same. “All this talk of the great Morwyn family,” I said, entering our tent once more. “Does it feel like you’re living in their shadow?”
Xavier’s shoulders slouched as he leaned forwards on the countertop. “I—I’m proud to be one of them. I love hearing how they’ve helped people, but I just don’t think I’ll ever...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“You can tell me,” I said. I walked across the grassy floor to face him at the counter. I reached over, giving his arm a light nudge. “You have seen a great deal ofmyemotional turmoil. I won’t tease you, I promise.”
He ran his pale fingers through his hair and kept his gaze averted. “I miss them very much. I really do. But... it’s good, too. Being away from him.”