Page 50 of Flowerheart

And how I was wondering if I would regret trusting him.

12

With Robin by my side, I helped Papa feel better, bit by bit. His bedside table was filled with potions and cups of tea. But our Sunday was only an echo of what our time together used to be. He felt dizzy when reading, so I read aloud to him. He didn’t stay awake for very long. We couldn’t spend our evenings side by side cooking wild meals. He couldn’t sing with me, because he’d start to cough up flowers. So Papa rested, and Robin and I debated what sort of soup we could give him that would still have the slightest bit of flavor. And I couldn’t sleep soundly because I knew all of it was my fault.

On Monday, I didn’t want to leave him—but at the same time, I worried that the longer I stayed, the sicker he would become. When I wished him farewell in the morning, he was too drowsy to even tease me about Xavier.

I burned Xavier’s card and stepped into his shop, leavingbehind my guilt and worry. They wouldn’t help me now. I needed to be entirely focused on training my magic.

Xavier was in the kitchen, hard at work on a potion even at this early hour.

“Good morning,” I called to him.

He spun on his heel. His eyes lit up at the sight of me. “Oh! Welcome back. How’s your father?”

I grimaced. “Fair. Robin helped me tend to him, but he is... in poor health, still. I can’t say that my attempt at the blessing worsened his condition, but...”

Xavier grabbed a stack of books from the countertop and carried them over to the table in the entryway. “I’m entirely confident in your ability to bless him. I believe you’ll succeed the next time you try.”

I prayed that his hopes weren’t misplaced. I wondered ifmyhopes were misplaced.

“About Saturday,” I murmured, “with Madam Ben Ammar...”

By the blush on his cheeks, he remembered the encounter as vividly as I did.

“Yes. Thank you for defending me, by the way.”

“She suspects something of us. Of you.” I’d give him another chance. One more chance to let me into the past he’d locked me out of. “Are you ready to tell me why?”

Xavier winced. “I—I’m not. I can’t. Not now.”

Disappointment sat in my chest, cold and hard as a stone. Iwanted to know him. I wanted totrusthim.

But there were more important things.

“Never mind, then,” I murmured. “It’s Papa that matters now, more than anything. What is it that you’ve been studying?”

“Well—you. Your magic, rather.” He cleared his throat and fanned out the books.Magical Anomalies, read one.The Training of Untamable Magic, read another. I supposed he’d read the same books when his own magic gave him trouble. “Normal magic is fueled by emotions and then controlled by the magician. They order their magic about with their words and their intentions. One usually masters their magic after years of training, butyours... it does not work that way. When you made a potion, it overflowed. Instead of treating nausea, it took away my sense of taste altogether. When you asked your power to make one flower, it made thousands. When you tried to make a portal, it landed far away from its destination.”

“You’re listing my failures. We’re well aware of them.”

He held up a finger. His eyes were bloodshot and wild—he’d probably been studying all weekend—but there was hope sparkling in them. I gave him back the floor.

“I have a theory,” he said, “that your magic is somehow doubly stronger than the average person’s. It’s not that it’s stubborn, or that you’re incapable, or anything like that. If the magic of a normal magician were a dog to be trained,yours would be like a bear. Or an elephant! It’s as if we, your teachers, the Council, are trying to fit something house-sized into a snuffbox.” His shoulders slackened. He caught his breath, and then smiled apologetically. “Does that make sense?”

I paused, letting the information settle in. “Then it’s not a lack of competence?”

“No, not at all!”

It was risking a lot, placing so much faith in me. It was risking Papa’slife.“How can you be so sure?”

“Because your spellsdosucceed. You asked your power to make you Carpet of Snow, and it did. You asked it to make a portal, and it did. It’s too strong, not just for you, but for any person.”

Perhaps it would be too strong for him, too, once he had taken it for himself. I thought of the band on my finger. A question lingered in my mind and pulsed like a headache—Is he doing this research just to learn about the new powers he’ll gain from me?

“You have agift, Clara,” he continued. “If we can learn to manipulate it, you’ll be able to make potions twice as easily, twice as fast. You could cast stronger spells with half the energy.”

I leaned back against the counter. “Need I remind you that this gift of mine also led to my father’s illness?”

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