Page 38 of Homegrown Magic

“Oh no,” Yael mutters, dropping Margot’s hand as they look up. They take a long swig of champagne.

A tall, elegant young woman hurries toward them. Black ringlets hang over her pale shoulders, above the severely cut neckline of a red dress woven with dark floral motifs. A silver corset accentuates her narrow waist, and an enormous ruby necklace sits like a duck’s egg in a nest at the base of her throat. Everything about her screams money and power.

“Who’s that?” Margot asks, taking a fortifying sip of her own champagne.

“My cousin Araphi Clauneck. You won’t have seen her since she was a child, and too young to run with us at parties. She’s—”

Before Yael can reveal what Araphi is, she’s standing in front of them, beaming. With another squeal of delight, she pulls Yael into a hug.

“Yael! You evil thing!” she gushes. “Where’ve you been hiding? I’ve heard the most surprising rumors about you!”

Yael shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. “Well, you know me, Phi; I’m sure every one of them is true.”

She barrels on, tugging one of Yael’s lapels. “Have you missed us terribly? Rastanaya told me she saw you at that sweet little fair in Olde Post. We must have just missed each other, can you believe it? Have you been bored out here in the country, all cooped up recovering?”

Something about the coy smile dancing across her painted lips plants a seed of doubt in Margot’s mind. Does Araphi know more about Yael’s exit from society than she’s letting on?

But before Margot can wonder further, Yael replies with a coy smirk of their own. “I take it you haven’t been bored without me, what with all the wedding preparations, hmm? I hear congratulations are in order.”

Araphi’s dark, sparkling eyes seem to dim a bit, her lips pressing flat. But the change in her expression passes quickly as she turns to smile brightly at Margot, and she presses a hand to her corset, above her heart. “And who’s this vision?” Araphi exclaims. “What a treat you are in this dress! Clearly another Rastanaya creation, and you wear it beautifully, but I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”

“I’m Margot Greenwillow,” Margot says quickly, as Yael is too busy swallowing champagne to introduce her. “I…well…I set up the gardens for Rastanaya’s show.”

Margot can feel Yael giving her an exasperated look, implying that she’s so much more, but what else is she supposed to say? That they’re standing in the very spot where Granny Fern taught her the importance of soaking oak leaves overnight when making a poultice to cure a lack of insight? Or that she actually does remember Araphi from a party long ago, when Margot and Yael were kids, and Araphi seemed so much younger than they were? And now she’s grown and seemingly thriving among the Claunecks.

“Greenwillow?” Araphi says, her forehead wrinkling. “As in the Greenwillow Manor Greenwillows? I thought…I had heard—”

Thankfully, Araphi is interrupted (and Margot is saved) by the arrival of Sage bounding down the terrace steps. Of course she’s not wearing anything by Rastanaya, and her simple leather pants, her half-laced tunic, and the shortsword belted at her hip cause quite a stir. Margot can hear the fine people of Ashaway whispering about her friend, even over the strange band’s music.

“Am I glad to see you,” Margot whispers as Sage lopes over and opens her arms for a hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sage says, squeezing her for a moment and then releasing her. She takes two flutes of champagne from the nearest waiter and polishes them both off in a few seconds.

Yael makes an appreciative noise at Sage’s drinking prowess, and Sage glares in their direction, narrowing her eyes. “You must be Yael.”

Yael bows. “And you’re Sage.”

At the same time, they say, “I’ve heard so much about you,” which makes both of them turn toward Margot.

Her cheeks heat. Really, must they have met tonight? What was she thinking, inviting Sage to Rastanaya’s show, thrusting Sage and Yael together in full view of the public?

“And I’m Araphi,” Yael’s cousin says, stepping forward. She raises one eyebrow at Sage, appraising her, then smiles wickedly. “I like your sword.” There’s a gleam in her eye that makes Margot feel a sliver of pity for her friend. She never has been able to resist beautiful women in any context, and—engaged or not—Araphi looks like she’d like to have Sage for breakfast.

Of course, she should’ve expected that Sage was more than up for the challenge, and her friend steps forward to take the hand Araphi offers. “It’s a very sharp sword,” Sage says, in a tone that brooks no confusion about where the two of them might have ended up after the fashion show, were both of them free.

Araphi’s gaze darkens, but before she can say anything else, the music stops. Rastanaya claps her hands and announces that they should take their seats, as the show is starting.

Margot loses track of Sage as she and Yael find their chairs and the crowd settles. Then, right as the sun sets and the first stars come out against the navy-and-purple sky, an exquisite-looking person with pansies sewn throughout their reddish-brown braids walks in one of Rastanaya’s magnificent summer dresses down Margot’s former terrace stairs.

The show is divine. Models in dresses, suits, and cloaks stroll beneath the oak tunnel, their outfits embellished with heavy floral textiles that match the gardens, or woven twigs and leaves that make the wearer seem like a forest creature walking the runway, or other variations on the theme of wild places at gloaming. They are dazzling and mysterious. Margot’s head spins from the three (five? six?) glasses of champagne she’s had, and much to her surprise, at the close of the show, Rastanaya pauses at the end of the runway to hold out a hand in Margot’s direction.

“None of this,” Rastanaya says, “would be possible without the sublime Margot Greenwillow, who not only inspired me with her flowers and plants when we first met in Olde Post but also generously lent us use of her family’s estate and made the garden so very magical. Please, Margot, take a bow.”

Margot freezes. It’s not her family’s estate, and claiming it seems like tempting fate. Should she correct Rastanaya? Or sprint away to hide behind the closest tree?

Yael gives her a little shove, and Margot stands. Sage lets out a loud, earsplitting whistle as Margot bows and the crowd explodes with applause. Rastanaya blows her a kiss, and then, as she turns to walk away, it’s all over.

The next half hour is a blur of people coming up to Margot, introducing themselves (some of them pretending it’s for the first time), telling her she “simply must come visit them the next time she’s in Ashaway,” and asking for her to decorate their next party. Sage says goodbye—she’s riding through the night to meet up with another adventurer staying in Olde Post—though not without casting Araphi one last, sizzling look.