Page 83 of Flowerheart

And they were all a part of me. All of these feelings were taking up residence in me, living in me, but not controlling me. I controlled them. I controlled the magic inside me.

I thought of journey. Arrival. Completion. Success. I pictured Xavier and myself, back at his manor, safe at last.

“Take us home,” I whispered.

I twisted the doorknob and pushed. The door swung open, revealing a sunlit room. Stacks of books on a wooden floor. A lamp on a nightstand. A painting of a family, serious but united. A four-poster bed.

Xavier’s bedroom. He blinked rapidly, his cheeks reddening.

“That’ll do, magic,” I declared, and pushed us across the stoop.

22

“You’ve brought me the whole shop,” he said.

I’d carried up a basin of water, some washcloths and bandages, and his potion case. I rolled my eyes and waved at him, making him shift aside in the bed. I sat down beside him, dipping a cloth into the basin. Silently, I tended to the wounds the manacles had left behind on his ankles and wrists—raw, red burns that wrapped around them like bracelets.

Disinfectant. Salve to numb the pain. Gauze, to keep the wounds clean.

When I looked back at him, my heart faltered. In the midst of my work, I’d forgotten how badly my magic had bruised him.

I didn’t know what to say. With one hand I cradled his face, and with the other, I brushed the dried blood from his lips and nose.

“Do you remember when we were little?” he murmured. “You always made me the patient then, too.”

I smirked. “I sound like quite the tyrant, from your tales.”

“You played a tyrant once. I was one of your servants.”

Tipping his face, I sighed, catching sight of the ugly, blue-and-purple bruise that covered the skin from his temple to his jaw. “I’m so sorry my magic did this to you. You were right about it. It’s stronger than normal. My mother bless—”

All of a sudden, my tongue pinched with pain. I touched my lips, wincing.

Xavier sat up taller, frowning. “Your mother blessed you?”

As I opened my mouth to explain that I’d visited her, and tell all that I’d seen, a searing pain sliced along my tongue like a blade. I gasped, tears springing into my eyes.

Xavier touched my wrist. “You can’t speak of it?”

I shook my head.

His forehead wrinkled with thought. He watched my lips—and my heart fluttered.

“It must be a seal of some sort,” he murmured. Xavier’s dark eyes brightened with an idea. “Was it your own mother who placed it on you?”

When I attempted to nod, my neck grew stiff and ached like I had been hunched over for hours. I said nothing, only watched him, my lip caught between my teeth.

He leaned back into the pillows and pursed his lips. “Yourmother blessed you... with strong magic.” He looked to the ceiling, his eyes tracking back and forth as if he were reading one of his magical textbooks. “That would explain why it was so volatile. And why it reacted so poorly to me, perhaps. But how would you know this? Did you meet with your mother?”

I could say nothing. My neck and shoulders were as unmoving as if I were a stone bust. There was so much I wanted to tell him. That she sold Euphoria. That she had a coven, and they, too, were distributing Euphoria, heedless of the consequences.

His eyes met mine again, and he blushed. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to risk hurting you again by badgering you with questions. I suppose I’ll just have to live with my curiosity.”

I unlatched the potion case resting on his nightstand and chose the yellow bottle labeledFor Bruises.“I wish I could tell you.”

Using my forefinger, I painted the pollen-yellow lotion across his cheek. His eyelids shut as my fingertip brushed against his skin.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” I said. Despite myself, my voice broke. I swallowed the knot tying itself in my throat and hastily turned back to the potion case.

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