Page 88 of Flowerheart

A beautiful, sincere smile spread across his face. “Yes,” he breathed, and then held my face in his hands, kissing me gratefully, unabashedly.

23

When I showed up on my doorstep with my luggage and Xavier Morwyn in tow, Papa was surprised—but pleasantly so. I didn’t even have to explain the situation; Papa just declared he would sleep on the couch that night and that Xavier could use his bedroom until I figured out a spell to make him his own.

That next morning was the start of the longest day of the year. Midsummer. In the evening, I’d graduate from my studies and become a witch.

But first, even though dawn had barely broken, I crept into the kitchen, hoping to start on the Euphoria cure.

Xavier was already there, standing by a bubbling cauldron on the stove, his notebook in hand.

“I’d hoped you would sleep some more,” I said.

He snapped the notebook shut and looked at me with wide eyes. “Clara! Good morning; I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

I crossed towards him, fixing my arms about his middle and smiling up at him. As I’d hoped, he turned even redder.

“What are you brewing this time?” I asked.

He swallowed, snaking his arm out from under me to hold up his notebook. “Another possible cure. The potion hasn’t been imbued with any magic, of course. I just thought... Well, I have a great deal of knowledge about Euphoria and how to counter it. All of my potential recipes are written down here. As—as you’ve seen.” He lowered his hand, showing me the notebook. “Perhaps these could give you some idea as to how to make the cure.”

I withdrew my arms and accepted the black leather notebook. My stomach tightened with guilt. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he had begun to smirk at me.

“You know,” he said, “I’m impressed that you unlocked the drawer without breaking it. Your lockpicking skills have greatly improved since the time you kicked down my door.”

I glared at him, fighting back a smile. “You think you’resofunny, don’t you?”

He pointed at me. “Is that a pity laugh, then?”

I rolled my eyes and settled at his side, my hip touching his, his hand against my shoulder. When I turned back to the beginning of the book and found the instructions for Euphoria, I could feel his chest tense as he held his breath.

So much destruction, all from such a small potion.

And yet...

“This recipe,” I murmured. “I think you have the beginnings of something here. Something that could help a lot of people.”

He pressed his lips together until they went pale. “You can’t be serious.”

I frowned. “I am. Melancholy is a very real problem, and the magical community seems hesitant to tend to those suffering from it—you were only trying to help.”

“Myintentionsdidn’t do them any good.”

I snapped the book shut and held it close to my heart. “What I’m trying to say is that the need to cure this ailment is far greater than you, or me, or the Council and their laws. There are people who are hurting, people who aredyingfrom this, and they don’t carewhomakes a treatment, as long as one exists.”

Leafing through the pages, I stared at the recipe for Euphoria, rapt in thought.

“Wisteria,” I read. “For abundance, yes, but also for obsession. I can only imagine what that did to the effects... and orange lilies? They also mean passion.” My finger dragged down the words on the page. “All these flowers for happiness—it isn’t happiness they need. Not exactly.” I thought back to my own darkness. Of yesterday. When the world felt so bleak, when it seemed that without my magic, without Xavier, I hadnothing.No future.

“They need hope,” I said. “They need strength—not apotion that will change who they are, but something that will give them the power to be themselves again.”

A smile started to dawn on his face. “You definitely make it sound more feasible, when you describe it like that... but what about the Council?”

“I’ll work on a recipe and seek the guidance of others—of people like Madam Ben Ammar,” I said. “Surely there must be some magicians in the country who would be on our side. Then I’ll petition the Council and make certain the treatment I create is safe before testing begins.”

He didn’t say anything. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to decipher the strange, almost sad look in his eyes.

“You’re not optimistic,” I said.

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