Page 59 of Flowerheart

What did he plan to use it for?

14

Early the next morning, I flitted about the kitchen. The kettle whistled, and I filled up the pale pink teapot, fragrant with bergamot and lavender.

The floorboards creaked. I lifted my head, pressing the warm teapot against my fluttering heart.

As Xavier stepped into the kitchen, flooded with morning light, I was pleased to find that the dark circles under his eyes had faded significantly. He looked like the Xavier I’d known before I read that notebook. Kind and meek. Not the sort of person who would make a dangerous, illegal potion.

“Good morning,” I exclaimed then cleared my throat, making a note to be a little less enthusiastic. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes—best I’ve slept in months.” Then he gaped at the kitchen table, which I had set better than a café. I’d baked lemon scones and set them out on little dishes with painteddaisies. I’d found a nice tablecloth, pale yellow with matching cloth napkins, and the fine silverware marked with an M for Morwyn.

He lifted one of the scones from its tiny plate. “Did... did you make these?”

“Yes, though I’m certain they’re not as good as the kind Papa makes.” I placed the teapot on the table before him.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, holding out my chair for me.

“The occasion is that you’ve slept through the night,” I said. I fluttered a napkin into my lap as he sat down across from me. “Iinsistyou eat something. You look a little peaky.”

He laughed softly and poured the tea, first into my cup and then into his. I watched his cup fill with deep brown tea.

After he’d done so, he lifted the teacup to his nose with a smile. “Bergamot. My favorite.” He set down the cup, his brows pushing together. “Wait a moment.”

My stomach clenched tight. He knew that this was an interrogation, not a tea party. Somehow he knew. “Yes?”

Xavier pointed over his shoulder. “We haven’t checked the magic cupboard in a bit.”

My shoulders fell with relief. “Oh! Of course. I’ll go see.”

I dashed to the cupboard, my heart pounding in my throat. What if he shouted at me? What if I’d misunderstood? And worst of all—what if his gentleness was all a lie?

Reaching up, I shakily pulled the handle of the little cupboard. Within, already on a plate to match the others, were two white meringues. They were palm-sized, and had little spikes like petals, like—like chrysanthemums.

For truthfulness.

I huffed through my nose. It was as if his grandmother’s spirit was watching me through the magic cupboard.

The truth would be good for all of us.

I carried the plate of meringues back to Xavier. “It seems your grandmother knew we’d be having a tea party,” I said, my voice cracking in my awful attempt to sound pleasant and cheery and normal.

“Lovely!” He lifted a meringue. The light in his eyes was so beautiful, like he was made up of sunshine itself. My pulse quickened. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I mumbled, tapping my meringue against his.

I barely noticed the sweet, light taste of the meringue—I was too focused on him. First, he was eating, and that was a marked victory. But more importantly, he needed to speak to me. He needed to be brave.

“Thank you for arranging this,” he said.

My fingertips fluttered against the flowers painted on my teacup. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He sat tall in his chair, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “Of course. Anything.”

Stop being wonderful,I begged him.

I took a slow, deep breath. “There’ve been some... things that I’ve noticed. Concerning things. I—I know I’m your pupil, so I just... want there to be transparency between us.” Carefully, I reached my gloved hand across the table. His fingertips brushed mine. Flames jetted up my arm, and my heart knocked about in my ribs, and my head pulsed, and I wanted this strange, sunlit nightmare to end already. “You can speak frankly with me, Xavier. I just want to understand. I—I care for you.”

---