Page 51 of Flowerheart

He said nothing to this. When I lifted my head again,I found him wringing his black cravat in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I fear...”I fear my magic will kill him.But I could not speak such a thing aloud. My magic might make it so. Instead, I breathed, slowly, steadily, calming myself and my magic. “I fear what could happen, should I attempt a blessing again.”

He pressed his hand to his lips in thought. “Saturday, you were trying to bless him with the full strength of your magic—your inordinately strong magic. I wonder if that could have led to some adverse effects.”

“O Great Master Morwyn,” I said, “I enjoy academia as much as you, buttheoryis not going to help me free Papa from the bond of my magic. If my power is so strong, I need to know how I am supposed to master it.” I gestured to myself. “I am not very formidable.”

His brown eyes glimmered. His cheek dimpled as he smirked. “I’d like to put that to the test.”

“What sort of test? Shall I be breaking any more porcelain animals?”

“No, no. This one will be very easy. You’re going to make me a potion.”

I laughed. “What will be different this time?”

“When you speak to your magic, I want you to imagine you are pouring half of it into the cauldron. I want you to tell it to exert itself very little. Just a bit of your power shouldwork just as much as, say, all of my strength.”

I crossed my arms tight around my middle and glanced to the large shelves, filled to bursting with potions of every kind. The worst scenario played out in my mind—my creation flooding the shop, spilling down the hill and then sweeping the nearest town away in a magical deluge.

I took a mop from the pantry and pressed it into Xavier’s hands.

“Just in case,” I said.

“I trust you.”

Magic writhed in my chest, preventing me from even a second to bask in the compliment.“Please.”

He conceded and sat down in a chair facing the store counter. He looked like a strange sort of prince, in a simple throne with a mop instead of a scepter.

You’re going to hurt him,said my magic.

“It’ll be all right,” I whispered back.

Xavier raised a brow. “What was that?”

My face burned. “I was wondering what sort of potion I should try to make.”

“Make whatever you’d like,” he said. “This is purely experimental.” He pointed to the shop sign in the window. “Actually, first try to spin that around. Tell your magic to move it. See it in your mind with complete confidence. But use as little strength as you can.”

The simple task seemed impossible. I stood at his side,holding both hands out towards the little rectangular sign in the window.

Turn, I told my magic.Don’t spin it. Just a gentle turn.

I flicked my index finger.

The sign pirouetted once, twice, clattering against the glass, and then halted, the wordOpenfacing us. Joy fizzled through me like sparks. I gasped delightedly.

“Very good,” he said. “Now for the potion.”

As I took a step back, my boot crushed something soft and pliable. Dozens of lilies of the valley had sprouted between the floorboards.

“Oh, dear,” I mumbled.

“Ignore it. Just a by-product of your magic. An innocuous one at that.” He smiled, sweeping a sprig of the little bell-shaped flowers off the floor. He twirled it back and forth. “You don’t need to be ashamed of your power. You’re happy. Let your magic celebrate with you.”

I nodded and marched to the shelves containing ingredients in bottles. So many potion recipes were etched in my memory after years of training. I glanced to Xavier for inspiration. With a free hand, he rubbed his eyes again, then his neck.

A potion to alleviate headaches. It was simple, one of the first that every student learned.

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