Hesper emerged from a shoppe across the way and waved me over to her. We mutually agreed that the next best course of action needed to involve as much food as possible: turkey legs, preferably. The evening was fast coming on, and all we had managed to eat that day were minced words, magic, and a spot of pastry.
We followed our noses to a place called Thandor’s Tavern. An irresistible rosemary-and-sage scent emanated from the shoppe, which was shaped like an ale barrel on both the outside and the inside.
It was run by a lovely couple. Thandor, with his bald head and floor-length beard, looked like a confused wizard. His husband, Bortie, with his floor-length head of hair and impressively droopy, bushy eyebrows more resembled a pirate who forgot to shave. For a century or two. They bickered incessantly about who burned that morning’s bread and finished it off with a quick kiss before they disappeared into the kitchen.
After three large bowls of stew, two turkey legs, and four rosemary-buttered biscuits, I felt utterly satiated. I leaned back in my chair—all of which were also shaped like barrels—andrelaxed. What a day this had been.
My heart purred as magic bubbled within me, all the potential in the world. I was eager to give it a try. How much could I grow in one night?
“So, this training,” I said to Hesper, who had been watching me the entire time with a soft smile on her face (which I ignored, I did).
“We will begin tomorrow.”
“But I could try tonight.”
“Tomorrow, Clara,” she gently corrected.
“We don’t have a lot of time left, though. If I tried tonight, those sprouts could be fully grown by tomorrow. Then, I could see if any other seeds lay dormant from previous crops, andthen—”
Hesper patted my hand.
“Rest is part of training. A good night’s sleep does more for magic—especially newly realized magic—than any amount of force.” One eyebrow was lifted in slight accusation.
I wanted to argue. But my bones were spent, and the pounds of stew filling up my belly did nothing to help the drowsiness coming on.
“This is the best meal I’ve had in a long while,” Hesper changed the subject, swirling the last bit of her stew round and round.
“Do you not have good food with Eldrene’s Train?” I wondered aloud.
Hesper laughed woefully. “Uh, no. Lots of rabbit, very little seasoning, watery broth. Half the Forest Train won’t eat other animals, so I’m ridiculed any time I eat more than just lettuce and tree bark.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What do you think you’d want to do, if you weren’t bound to the Train any longer? Where would you want to be?” I asked. My heart seemed to still in my chest.
Foolishly, there was an answer I hoped she would say. Even though I knew that would be impossible.
Hesper placed her spoon onto the table and gazed at me, her eyes somber.
“I don’t think it’s helpful to dream about things I will never have.”
“You made me do it, though. You made me believe I had magic.”
“That is something youhave, Clara. There are some things, though, I cannot ever have.”
“I see,” I whispered, my heart cracking a bit.
We weren’t talking about adventures. We were talking about that something-else that had scared me about her all along.
I reached for my walls, anything to guard my heart. If I had heart magic, what would happen once Hesper left? We still had more time together, we lived in the same space. If I could even put guardrails around my heart, it would be better than the guaranteed pain of her leaving. Right? If my heart shattered, would my magic go along with it?
I’ll have to be careful.
My heart tried to quip back, but I tamped it down. I may not be able to build any more walls, but I could at least focus on the job at hand. Distract myself. Do anything other than fall head over heels for the warrior with the scar above her lip.
The pumpkins waged war against the struggling gardener, who buckled under the threat of a thousand spindly stems pointed her way.
—opening line attempt 710
