“Come on, Farrow, let’s get you home safely.”
The trowel I’d been using to dig up the Lunarie is still shoved in the dirt nearby, my task unfinished like the score between the two boys. In tired silence, I scoop the flower out, give it the usual brush of enchantments, and place it carefully in my basket.
We choose the quick way back to the citadel, which once more involves Will carrying me and the wind as our guide. He leaps us up, over the citadel walls, and I force myself to leave his arms. In no time at all, we arrive outside my shop.
“ ‘Farrow’s Flowers,’ ” he reads from the sign.
“Now you know where to find me,” I say, and stand on the front step so we’re almost at eye level.
Will pauses.
“Fliss…” he says, his eyes flicking up to the castle. It’s hard to read him in the dim light, but there’s a heaviness in his shoulders. “You know it’s only a matter of time before I get you in trouble. Bash won’t be happy about this.”
My chest ignites. “Since when do you care what he thinks?”
He’d better not be giving me up and letting Bash have his way again. I’d better not be another thing he loses because of Bastion’s guilt. But he’s sayingthislike there’s something here, like he’s beenfeeling the same as I have, and he’s looking at me like no one ever has—like the sun could rise at any moment and it wouldn’t be as captivating as me on my doorstep.
The castle watches over us. A reminder of who wins, of who rules.
Willoh Vane takes a step back.
“Good night, Felicity.”
No. No. Don’t go.I don’t want us to leave it like this, suspended in a potential, a could-have, the kindling of our flame left forgotten.
“Will, wait—”
I stand on my tiptoes and at the last second shy away, dodging his mouth and kissing him lightly on the cheek.
“Thank you for helping me find the Lunarie,” I say.
He blinks, then regains his smirk.
“Go on, Farrow,” he says. “You’ve got a flower to take care of.”
Regretfully, I turn my key in the lock and stand in the open doorway.
“Good night, Will,” I whisper and shut the door slowly, keeping my eyes on him until there’s no sliver of space left.
My head rests against the wood. There isn’t an inch of me that isn’t screaming to throw open the door, to tell him not to go, to continue the magic of this evening into the sunrise and forevermore, but I need to get the Lunarie prepared and into the collection box before Mum wakes up.
I don’t know what to do. Everything stems from Bash’s mistake.Ego and desperation,that’s what Will had said on our way to Mithian. Not his, but the prince’s. Bash had wanted magic so badly that the entire north got destroyed in the process. These days, he does everything he can to avoid relying on magic. Maybe Card’s indifference to it rubbed off on him. Or maybe magic and guilt have become so intertwined, Bash can no longer differentiate between the two.
But would they even listen if I explained Will’s side of things? If I have the ability to use the truth as a way to clear the air and smooth things over, shouldn’t I try? Bash needs to know how his actionsaffected Pigeon and her fellow villagers. As of now his sympathies have yet to turn into action. He needs a brutal dose of honesty or nothing will change.
Then, after it’s all worked out, Will and I…We wouldn’t have to— We could—
Well, I never want Willoh Vane to sacrifice anything ever again.
Chapter Sixteen
I outdo my usual clumsiness. First, it was the dropped plate of crumbs after breakfast, then I walked into the corner of the wrapping table on my way to open the shop, and just now, Mum watched me drop my pruning scissors by my left foot. Any closer and I’d be missing a toe.
“What is with you this morning? It’s a good thing I’m not working at the tearoom today,” Mum says from the kitchen table where she’s checking the accounts. The audit book is surrounded by the latest shipment of ribbons that I need to organize. For now, I’m pruning any brown leaves from the single-stemmed flowers available for sale. Well, I had been, until I almost dismembered myself. I shake my head and scoop up the fallen scissors.
“I’m tired,” I say, and don’t elaborate. Last night, after I’d finished preparing the Lunarie, with the sun rising and the world outside still snoozing, there had been nothing to block the spiral of thoughts that kept me awake. Like an enchanted portrait, every time I closed my eyes, I saw Will. He brushed my hair behind my ears as the glow of the grove glistened with magic. I couldn’t stop myself from taking thememory in a different direction. What if I’d run my hand up his neck and brought his lips to mine? What if he’d kissed me? How would he have done it? What would it feel like to have his breath on my skin and his hands all over me? Because gods know, I’ve thought about it more than once. A lot more than once.
“You should go to bed earlier. I’ve told you a thousand times,” Mum says.
