I didn’t understand why he would want my volatile power. But if this was the payment he’d take in exchange for his help, I would not question his reasons.
“You’ll teach me to bless Papa,” I said, “and then once he’s well, I’ll pay you—with my magic?”
“Precisely.”
I could imagine Papa pleading with me not to give up my gift, my future. But a future without my father was bleak and empty. And a future with my magic would be fraught with trouble. Besides, after what my magic had done, the Council would surely forgo offering me the “mercy” of the binding spell and take my power away from me altogether.
“I agree to it,” I said. I reached a hand towards him.
“You’ll need to take your glove off, Miss Lucas. For the vow.”
I drew my hand to my chest. My throat tightened. “When my skin touched Papa’s, it burned him. What if it does the same to you?”
He shook his head. “I’m sure you mean me no harm.”
“I didn’t mean to harm Papa, either,” I muttered.
He grimaced. “Then we will say the vow quickly.”
I squeezed the stiff gloves into fists.
“Don’t fret,” he said. “I’ve got some extra salve in my potion case, if you were to really hurt me. And if you do, I won’t blame you for it.”
Finger by finger, I pulled off my right gardening glove. I slipped my hand into his hold as gently as possible, like it would soften the blow, but the moment our skin touched, he gasped.
I leapt back. “I told you!”
He shook his hand like it’d been held over a stove. “It’s so curious,” he murmured. “Your magic doesn’t obey your own heart.”
“Curious?” I spat. “It’s maddening.”
Xavier reached for my hand again, our eyes aligning. There was the faintest stripe of pink along his palm where I’d touched him. “I’ll help you. We’ll get your magic sorted out. And after your father’s been healed, your power will burden you no longer.”
My magic curled up inside me. It hated being called a burden.
That’s what you are, I told it. Over the years, it had only become more fitful. Spells had been difficult the first few months of having my power; then they’d grown wild, unruly, and too strong. Now my magic was dangerous, pure and simple. Perhaps when wielded by someone else, it would be more manageable.
Still, jealousy and disappointment ate at me like parasites. Xavier was only a month older than I was. And though we’d gotten the same magical education, he’d graduated a whole year early. Been inducted to the Council almost instantly. Succeeded in every way I failed.
I could only hope he would succeed in helping me bless Papa.
Taking a gulp of air, I clasped Xavier’s hand, looking him in the eyes, and he didn’t flinch back this time. My heart soared into my throat as magic zipped through my veins, pooling in my palm. Light exploded all around us, golden motes floating around our hands and drifting by our cheeks like fairies.
And the light danced in his eyes. They were beautiful and warm, not flint-black but really a deep brown, and fringed with long lashes. Yet there were dark shadows beneath his eyes.
Xavier’s hand trembled, but his gaze didn’t waver as he spoke. “I vow to you, Clara Lucas, that I will teach you all I can, until the day you are able to free your father from the magic binding him.”
His words were soft, secret, but ricocheted somehow off the pale yellow kitchen walls and echoed through my mind. The pulse in his palm fluttered against my hand. The flecks of golden light thrummed in time with his heart.
Words spilled from me as if I’d practiced: “I vow to you, Xavier Morwyn, that upon the day I bless my father and free him of the magic binding him, I will give to you all of my magic. Willingly. Readily.”
He held my hand tighter. “Let neither of us speak of this vow to another soul.”
To have our hands clasped like this reminded me of our childhood. The secrets we’d kept for the other. The things we’d admitted with teary eyes beneath blanket forts. Such promises had felt so serious then.
Magic pulsed along my arms, aching like a pulled muscle. Then a bolt of electricity sang up my arm. I gasped and pulled back my hand. It stung as if I’d stuck it into a fire; and then, as quickly as they appeared, the lights and pain vanished.
My skin was not red and throbbing as I’d expected it to be—it was the same, if not for a thin black band inked around my ring finger.
Xavier flexed his hand, which now bore a matching black band. The skin of his fingers and palm were raw and pink.
“Your hand! Oh, Xavier, I’m so sorry—”
“It’s not your fault.” He turned to his potion case, which opened with a soft click. Procuring the little jar of salve from his bag, he nodded his head at it. The cork flew out on its own. After he applied the cream to his hand, he bound the wound in gauze.
“Does it hurt?” I asked. In part, I wanted to know if Papa was suffering terribly from my hand on his cheek.
“It stings,” he admitted, and left it at that. Before closing his case, he placed a golden calling card and a square bottle into my still-gloved left hand.
“This is a sedative,” he explained. “Your father will continue to be quite frail. A spoonful will put him to sleep. And he won’t feel pain.” He pointed to the card. “If something unforeseen happens, burn that and I’ll come to help.”
I looked at the card, which simply said His Greatness Xavier Morwyn, Wizard. I felt a pang of envy. I was just as smart and talented as he was. I should have been called “Madam Lucas.”
Now I would never be.
I curled my hand around the little potion. “All right.”
“I’ll call on the Council shortly. I’ll explain the situation, get them to postpone the binding spell. And they’ll be able to provide additional aid for the both of you.”
I did not relish the thought of the Council visiting me a second time—but I needed help. I’d accept it in any form.
Xavier turned back to his case, sweeping it off the table.
“How will I afford to pay a Councilmember?” I peeped. “I gave you all the money I have.”
“Not to worry. You’re my apprentice now. They will tend to your father if I ask them to.” He lighted his hand on the doorknob for one moment before looking back at me. “One last thing. I know we only live an hour apart, but perhaps it would be wise to keep your father far from your magic. Do you understand?”
I hesitated. He wanted my magic—he wanted me—away from my father.
“You want me to live with you?” I asked.
“It is customary for an apprentice to move house.”
I couldn’t help but scoff. Customary? For one’s former best friend to act in the place of an older and wiser mentor? For a witch to accidentally curse her own father? For two young people to make a bargain like this?
Xavier turned back to the door. “Will that be a problem, Miss Lucas?”
“No,” I said—though the thought of leaving my father behind in such a state made my heart sink. I squeezed the end of my braid with my ungloved fingers. “I’ll do whatever’s best for him.”