Page 47 of Homegrown Magic

There’s a long beat of silence before the coachman sighs defeatedly. “Where to, then, sir’ram?”

“As I said, take us to the city, to the Glowing Coin.” They turn back to Margot, explaining, “It’s right on the edge of the Golden Court, with the best view of the palace in the city. And the best chef outside the palace itself. You’ll love their spiced bat.”

She frowns. “I’m not sure I’ve been paying you high enough wages to afford the Glowing Coin, and nearly all the gold Rastanaya gave us is back in the greenhouse till.”

“Never fear.” Yael waves away her concerns as they shrug on their shirt then reach for their trousers. “We’ll purchase our room—our rooms, if you prefer—on Clauneck credit.”

“And your parents will allow that?” Margot asks, seeming dubious.

“By spreading rumors of my supposed injury, my parents have made it clear they’re trying to keep our family business out of the public eye. They won’t risk creating a spectacle by cutting me off in front of the whole capital.”

Thinking like a Clauneck all of a sudden? Interesting…

For perhaps the first time ever, their patron sounds as though they have found something of interest in Yael.

They would prefer not to think about that, so they press on. “Besides, I’d sleep on a bench in Coult Park before I put us in the same house as my father and mother, after what they did to yours.”

“Yael…” Margot starts, “your mother…”

“Yes?”

Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head, then says, “I don’t think Menorath is going to like me much.”

Laughter bursts out of them, and they fall back against the bench. “The fact that my mother may hate you is one of the many reasons I love you.”

Margot freezes halfway through retying the bodice of her dress, knuckles turning white around the laces, lips parting as if to protest, but nothing comes out.

Recognizing panic when they see it, Yael rambles, “Not that I’m some angry young person trying to piss off their parents in return. I swear I’m not. I mean, I am angry at them, but I just meant to say that you’re nothing like my mother, and that’s why—”

“Why you love me?” Margot whispers, her gray eyes wide, looking like a cornered cat.

She looks the way Yael feels whenever they think of returning to Ashaway: like they’re strolling into the mouth of a beast, having narrowly escaped its teeth once before.

“I…I…” The carriage is stifling all of a sudden, the air sucked out by Yael’s obvious mistake. Of course she doesn’t want to hear their accidental admission just as they’re about to ride through the capital’s gates, placing her back within the reach of the people (Yael’s people) who took everything from her in the first place. This is hardly the time to talk of love.

Gods, they never do stop to think.

Oh, Yael. Do you believe a time will come when Margot Greenwillow looks into your eyes and does not see everything she’s lost? Do you believe you’ve anything to offer that will persuade her to see a lover—a beloved, even—before she sees a Clauneck?

“That’s not true,” Yael insists.

“What’s not? That you—”

“No, I didn’t mean…” Yael grinds the heel of their palm into their temple, but Clauneck has fallen silent. “I mean that…You know, I’ve just been really thoroughly fucked, so I wouldn’t take my word on anything right now.” A flimsy excuse, and a cowardly path out of the conversation.

But Margot takes it. She hesitates for only a moment longer, then goes back to tying her laces, perhaps tugging more roughly than necessary (certainly, Yael would’ve treated her more gently). “Well then, we’ll write it off to being thoroughly fucked and save our words for the innkeeper, if you think you can convince them to give us a room.”

“Not a doubt in my mind, Daisy.” Yael sprawls out on the carriage bench once more, the very picture of calm, cool, unbothered.

They tell themself that Margot will soon forget their mistake.

They tell themself that all of this—leaving Bloomfield, letting Margot accompany them, and placing them both back under Yael’s parents’ influence—isn’t one huge mistake that they’ll live to regret.

18

Margot

An apricot slice of early-morning light shines through the crack in a pair of thick, velvet drapes, beckoning to Margot. The evening before, she and Yael were given the Glowing Coin’s finest room, because, “nothing but the best for Yael Clauneck and their guest!” It’s an extravagant suite with violet-and-silver-patterned wallpaper, a burbling ornamental waterfall in the bathing chamber, and crystal chandeliers throughout. Not as fancy perhaps as the way Margot’s mother had decorated, but after all these years in Bloomfield, it looks like a queen’s bedroom to Margot. Not that she’s ever been in a queen’s bedroom. Yael probably has. She’ll have to ask them…or maybe she won’t. It’s not like she needs to know.