Page 52 of Flowerheart

Each of the patient’s senses had to be addressed and balanced.

I filled the kettle with milk and set it on the stove. From the pantry, I procured a large tin of cocoa, the kind that doubled as a lovely morning treat and an excellent solution for menstrual pain. I combined the cocoa with scoops of coarse-grained sugar, which were often mixed with fine-smelling oils and prescribed to smoothen skin or alleviate joint pain.

In a mortar, I ground forget-me-nots into a bright blue paste. According to magicians of old, blue was the most soothing color to the eye. I added the paste to the sugar and cocoa, and then poured lavender oil over the mixture. With a mixing spoon, I worked the scent into the sugar, stirring in a smooth figure-eight motion. Out of the corner of my eye, Xavier shifted in his chair. I paused. I’d nearly forgotten he was there, and that he’d been watching me all the while. The thrill of combining a potion had had a hypnotic sort of pull—but so did looking at him.

He had his hands folded against his knee, the mop lying on the floor beside him. His eyes were dark and ringed with shadows, but they were attentive, even so. His black hair draped over one eye. I found myself longing to brush it back. He’d tucked my lily of the valley behind one ear.

He sat taller in the chair, lifting his brows. “Do you need me?”

I blushed. What was I in the middle of doing? “I, erm, I need to sing over this potion.”

A grin spread across his face. “Shall I cover my ears?”

I laughed too loudly and then bowed my head to avoid his gaze. “I’m a wretched singer, so for your own safety, you probably ought to.”

“I’m not here to judge you.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he amended, “Well, not your singing, anyhow.”

Thiswas the man Madam Ben Ammar had warned me to be wary of? I kept my back to him, shaking my head. What a contradiction he was. Silly. Gentle. Open.Severe.Reckless.Secretive.

With my head down, I sang a soft reel to the ingredients. I lifted the kettle off the stove with a rag and poured the hot milk into the bowl. The more I stirred the thick periwinkle potion, the louder I sang. Mixing like this reminded me of making bread with Papa. Singing reminded me of how he said we both sang like cats, and how we sang all the louder for it. The beat of my heart quickened to match the rhythm of the song.

Magic and light rushed down my arms and into the bowl, faster and faster. Xavier remained in my periphery like a lighthouse on a dark, endless horizon. Well. If lighthouses dressed in all black.

Steady,I told myself and my power.I only want a little bit. I don’t need all of you. Half of your strength—and then half of that. And then only a pinch of that.

I breathed in the sweet, calm scent and smiled.

Happiness rested warm in my heart as joyful memoriesfloated through my mind: Papa spinning me in a clumsy dance; beating Xavier in foot races as a child. Magic made my pulse jump—I thought of the stray dog that I always passed outside of Williamston, bouncing and wagging its tail, eager to play with me.

I see you,I told my magic.I’ll let you play a little. But you’ll do as I tell you.

The ideal spell for this was a palindrome—something involving thought; something balanced. Speaking clearly, calmly, coaxingly, I told my magic, “Verily, I speak peace of mind and tranquility and ease; ease and tranquility and mind of peace speak I, verily.”

The little bowl quivered in my grasp, but not like the quaking of the earth—the simple buzzing of a bee. My eyes flew open, and I grinned at it. The thick, pale blue potion remained in the confines of the bowl.

“I—I think I’ve done it!”

Wide-eyed, Xavier rose, leaned his lanky form across the table and gazed into the bowl. He took a silver teaspoon and filled it up before taking a careful taste of the potion. But I bit my lip all the while—when Papa sampled my cakes, I didn’t have to fear that he’d somehow drop dead because of a mistake.

His eyebrows rose. “It’s perfect,” he said.

“How does your head feel?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt at all!”

“And—and there are no side effects?”

Xavier shook his head. “I feel fine.”

I lifted my arms in the air, jumping and shrieking like I’d just won a prize.

“Congratulations,” said Xavier. “This is quite an accomplishment. It’s an excellent sign.”

He held out his hand for mine to shake it, as if this were a business transaction. As if this were not the promise of a good and noble future for my magic. Of hope for my father.

I slid my gloved hand into his grasp, watching a flush creep up his neck as we touched. My heart fluttered. His warm, gentle eyes. The elegant slope of his nose. The dimple in his cheek. The soft pink of his lips. Did he find me as lovely as I found him handsome?

Please, I begged,hold my hand just a little longer.

---