“I’m not frightened!” My voice indicated otherwise. I dried my cheeks with shaky dabs. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
He let out a soft, nervous sort of laugh. “I’m getting that impression. What can I do to help?”
There was something weary about him again. Something deeper than exhaustion from staying up all night with the midwife. Despite that, a glow of pride lit his cheeks. I knew that expression.
I’d felt it myself, many times.
I handed him back his kerchief and wiped my nose with my sleeve before I adjusted myself to sit in somewhat less of an overwhelmed heap. “I asked you to teach me how you control your magic, not to construct an arbor.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but it’s a really nice arbor.”
I wrinkled my nose, though I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Is this what you do when you’re not working with the midwife?”
“Decorative gardening? No. But sometimes I come out here and make things grow. It feels good.”
“Does it? You look … tired. Like it was difficult.”
He was quiet for too long, too many calculations going on behind his eyes for my liking. “It’s harder when I’m near you.”
“What?” My voice cut through the silence around us like a bark.
He flinched. “It is what it is. I don’t mean to insult you.”
“I’m notinsulted.I’m worried.”
“You believe me?”
“Of course I believe you. I’ve seen it twice now. I can see what’s plain in front of me.”
His dubious expression made me want to tear a few flowers down and throw them at him. “Can you really?”
“Are you mocking me?” I asked, quiet.
“It’s only that there’s so much you don’t see. That you don’t believe. I can’t fix that for you. I can only show you this.”
“Flowers.” I snorted, my heart beating fast. It felt like he was insulting my intelligence, and I hated the way it squeezed my organs.
“Possibilities,” he corrected gently.
“Radiance is possibility. It’s jobs. It’s convenience. It’s light, Ezra. Light in the darkness. This is beautiful, but you’re right—I can’t see the same possibilities in a decorative garden.”
“That’s because you don’t respect life.”
I surged to my feet, fingertips sparking. “How dare you!”
He huffed with frustration and gestured at me as if I’d just illustrated his point. “Are you going to hurt me, Josephine?”
Stumbling back, I wondered if I would have if his words hadn’t struck me like a knife to my guts. “If you’re so peaceful and perfect,” I asked with a snarl, “why did the Animators have to be killed?”
A ragged sound of disbelief shook out of him. He remained on his knees, staring up at me. “Because Animators were not so easily charmed by talk of birthright and destiny. They were killed because they wouldn’t do what they were told.”
A flower brushed my cheek. I swatted at it. What he was saying couldn’t be true. The Animators had attacked Children of Industry before either of us had been born. They’d forced the House’s hand. “And you think I do what I’m told?”
“Of course you do. It’s all you do.” His eyes held pity as he added softly, “It’s all youcando.”
I felt as if his wild magic had squeezed the air out of my lungs. But the pain I felt wasn’t because of magic. “You think I’m a fool.”
He heaved a breath so weary, it made my bones ache. “You’re not a fool.”
