Page 86 of Flowerheart

He kissed the top of her head, holding her tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so, so sorry.”

The tallest sister, with her long hair pulled back with a red scarf, scowled and poked him hard on the shoulder. “You should be,” she snapped. “You were a right arse, staying here and working yourself to death without hardly sending us notes! Mamá was distraught.”

He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to write—I should have written, I...” Xavier reached out an arm. “Come here.”

Leonor ducked close, joining the embrace with Inés.

The third sister, who was wearing a lovely, olive-green gown and had her hair pinned up like a noblewoman, regarded me with a smile. She darted towards me, kissing me on both cheeks.

“Clara Lucas, I’d recognize you anywhere!” She tugged on the curl lying on my forehead. “Even though your hair isn’t as wild as I remember.”

Looking at her, at the little freckle above her painted-red lip, I remembered her at once. She used to drag me away from Xavier so we could have tea parties together.

“Dalia, how are you?” I asked, hugging her tight. “It’s been ages!”

Leonor, the tallest sister, left Xavier and marched over to my side, her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you ever come to visit us?”

My stomach sank. They didn’t know. I’d lost them as much as I’d lost Xavier.

“Your brother never wrote to me,” I said meekly. “I thought that he was cross with me about something, so I didn’t want to bother him.”

She rolled her eyes and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, as if all the years hadn’t passed, as if we were still friends, as close as we were in childhood. “Well, you should have botheredus.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Leo. You know Xavier was always her favorite.”

Xavier glanced back at Dalia, a blush coloring his cheeks.

Suddenly, Inés yelped. “Xavier, you’re hurt!”

His mother swept across the kitchen in her long black dress, holding his hands and frowning at the bandages on hiswrists and the yellow stains along his forearms. “What happened to you, mijo?”

“It’s a long story, Mamá, but I promise I’ll tell you all of it. For now, though, you don’t need to worry.” He smiled back at me. “Miss Lucas did an excellent job of caring for me.”

His mother reached over to me, squeezing my hand. “Thank you, dear. Madam Ben Ammar mentioned your father in her letter—he’s in good health, then?”

I thought fondly of how she always paid Papa too much for the flowers and herbs we brought them, and always had a mug of cider to offer him. “Yes, madam. He’s doing much better, thank you.”

Footsteps thudded as Master Morwyn the Elder crossed into the corridor, his hands behind his back. Xavier’s father looked much like his son, if all the softness had been stripped away. His face was sharp and angular, with a pronounced forehead and low, dark brows over his black eyes. “Good evening, Miss Lucas,” he said with a bow.

My heart clattered against my breastbone. Xavier’s father had once decided that I, a child, was a threat to his son. That he shouldn’t communicate with me. Shouldn’t be friends with me. It was thanks to him that for five long years, I’d been without my dearest friend.

Xavier stepped between his father and me, shielding me with his shoulder. I gripped his hand tight, skin against skin.

The older man’s eyes widened just a fraction. “Son,” he said, a greeting by the loosest definition.

Without his cravat, the swell of Xavier’s throat bobbed prominently as he swallowed. “Father.” His hand pulsed against mine. “There’s something I’d like to propose to you.”

He curved his hand against my shoulder, his arm across my back. “Miss Lucas has the utmost control over her magic. I nominated her to be a witch for a reason.” The silence around us was thick and tense, but the passion in his eyes, the way he spoke about me,defendedme—it made my heart skip. Xavier held his head high. “And I think she should work here in the shop with you and Mamá.”

My heart jumped in my chest. I gaped up at Xavier—I’d always hoped to work here. But with him at my side.

His father cleared his throat and glanced sidelong at me. “Xavier, we ought to continue this conversation in private.”

“No,” said Xavier, his voice trembling, “this directly involves Miss Lucas. She has every right to work in the shop if she’d like—”

“She has none at all,” said Master Morwyn, folding his arms. “In the first place, this is my home,myshop, and secondly, she has no title yet, and you have none at all. It is not your place to decide.” He rolled back his shoulders, his eyes like flint as he stared at his son. “Furthermore, Morwyns have worked alongside their children for more than six hundred years; youknowthat. Even if Miss Lucas’s reputation wasnot sullied by her mother’sactivities, she is not a Morwyn—”

“She has nothing to do with her mother!” said Xavier, taking a step forwards. “She’s her own person, and a bloody fantastic witch. She saved her father’s life. She cast a blessing! And she savedmylife. Why should it matter what her name is?”

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