Page 85 of Flowerheart

His eyes grew round. “No, no! I just thought that you—that you wouldn’t...” He shut his mouth and then opened it again. He was bright red; I beamed, knowing I could causesuch a reaction in him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I pressed the washcloth to his face, wiping away the honey-colored salve. His skin beneath was smooth and uninjured, but stained yellow temporarily. When my knuckle grazed his cheekbone, it was warm to the touch.

Setting aside the potions and the cloths, I balanced myself above him, one hand pressed to the bed on either side of him. His eyebrows shot up.

“You know,” I murmured, “Iwillbe an excellent witch. But whatever I am, wherever in this world I end up, I’d like most of all to be with you.”

His eyes glimmered like polished ebony. “You... I... we?”

I drew his hand close, tilting my head to kiss his palm. “If you’d like me to put it plainly, I will.” I brushed my lips against his cheek, which was soft and tasted of honey from the balm. My hand pressed against the open collar of his shirt, and I could feel his heart pounding.

“I love you,” I said, and my magic sang in agreement, unable to deny it. It squirmed and fizzled through my blood, begging to be set free.

His face grew pink as cherry blossoms as he lifted a hand, resting it softly against my jaw.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked.

He nodded, his gaze upon my lips. “Please.”

I leaned closer till my braid tickled his cheekbone. We did not touch, not yet, remaining an inch apart. His breath was broken and off-tempo. His hair smelled of cloves and wildflowers. When I touched his face, the rushing sound of his breathing cut off altogether.

He pressed his lips to mine; warm, giving, kind. The beautiful, champagne-fizzing joy I’d felt, kissing the boys and girls I’d fancied in school—it was hardly as sweet as this.

Yearning and fear and delight and stomach-dipping anxiety and contentment and want—coloring my mind as vivid as a sunrise, as hot as a wildfire. My magic was so blissful, so free.

Yes,I thought,do what you will, magic; I’m quite occupied for now.

The moment was like a bubble threatening to burst; a glittering, thread-thin spider silk ready to snap at any instant. And when it did, my heart, too, would fall apart at the seams. I curled my fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. I anchored my hand fast against the collar of his shirt.

Somewhere downstairs, a door creaked.

I pulled back just an inch, enough that his nose still rested beside mine.

His hand cradled the side of my face as tenderly as if I were made of glass. “What’s wrong?”

“I heard a noise.”

I drew back from him, sliding off the bed. My faceinstantly burned as I looked at what had become of the room in a few short moments: the deep green carpet now served as a meadow for hundreds of flowers.

Purple gloxinia. Red chrysanthemums. Stark white gardenia. Arbutus blooms, pink as blush. Ivy. Fragrant orange blossoms. Golden orchids. Myrtle. Red roses. Dozens of garish blooms declared my love in a dozen different ways.

“Oh, dear,” I murmured.

“Xavier!” A high voice came from the ground floor, bouncing through the house. “Xavier, are you there?”

He sat bolt upright in bed, his hair sticking up in the back like black feathers. He scrambled off the bed, spared one quick, confused glance for the flowers around us, and then took my hand.

“It’s my family,” he said, a brilliant smile setting his face aglow.

With astounding energy, he tugged me out of his bedroom, down the winding staircase, and onto the ground floor.

A gaggle of tall, dark-haired people stood in the shop. A woman with a red shawl was rearranging potion bottles on the counter, and she jumped when one of the girls at her side cried out, “It’s him!”

He’d only taken one step towards the shop when the three girls stampeded into the corridor and threw their arms around him. The smallest pressed her face into his stomachand shook with tears. It was Inés. His sweet, shy, youngest sister. The one he said he’d blessed with courage. As the others jabbered away with questions, he placed his hand against her short, curly black hair and murmured to her.

“Have you been all right without me?” he asked, his tone light and soft.

She drew back, wiping her eyes and smiling. “Yes—yes, I’ve been so brave. I go to the market all by myself every day. I even made a new friend. It’s nice, but...” Her face crumpled and she ducked her face back against his shirt. “I missed you so much.”

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