Page 54 of Homegrown Magic

Margot laughs even as heat warms her cheeks. Some of the tension in her uncoils. Yes, Yael would like this dress very much.

Certainly, they would enjoy helping her out of it.

She takes a long sip of the champagne. It’s far earlier in the day than she usually drinks, but this is the capital, city of decadence and extravagance. Besides, she needs courage to lie to Menorath. She takes another sip, and the bubbles rush to her head.

It’s not ordinary champagne. The assistant confessed it’s been spelled to make the drinker feel lovely, dreamy, reckless—all emotions that encourage patrons to find a dress they adore and help them get over paying Rastanaya’s extravagant (but apparently well-deserved) prices.

Margot drinks it gratefully. A heady cocktail of guilt, fear, and worry has been swirling through her bloodstream since they arrived in Ashaway—really since the Clauneck summons. But when she’s around Yael, it abates just a bit. If only they were here now…

Right as Margot thinks it, the door to the dressing room flies open. She turns as Menorath Clauneck strides into the room.

Yael’s mother is a tiny woman—slim, narrow-faced, yet beautiful—but her presence fills the room like a cloud blotting out the sun. In one quick movement, her eyes move over each of the attendants and then land on Araphi, who raises a champagne glass in her direction. Menorath’s eyebrows fly up in what looks like surprise for a moment, but she quickly recovers her composure. She nods coolly at Araphi; then her gaze finds Margot.

Margot forces herself to stand still under the assessing aubergine eyes of Menorath Clauneck.

You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

She pushes her shoulders back and meets Menorath’s eye.

“Ms. Greenwillow. You’ve grown into quite a lovely woman since we last met.”

“I believe I was twelve the last time we met,” Margot manages. Hastily, she takes another sip of champagne. She’s waited so long to face the Claunecks, but in none of her imagined scenarios was she half-dressed and holding a champagne flute.

“Just so. Leave us.” Menorath waves a hand at all the attendants. “You too, Araphi.”

“But, Aunt Menorath,” Araphi protests, “we’re waiting on a mask to go with the dress. Don’t you think this gown will be perfect for your ball?”

“It’s fine,” Menorath says, her voice leaving no room for argument. “For now, I need to speak to Margot. Alone.”

Araphi shoots Margot a sympathetic look and mouths, “Good luck,” as she and the attendants leave the room.

Menorath settles on the floating sofa and gestures to Margot. “Come here, please. Let me see you.”

Feeling like a child who’s been summoned, Margot steps down from the platform. She totters for a moment in her heels but then steadies herself.

You’re amazing, Daisy, whispers Yael’s voice in her head. Your parents will be so proud of you when they wake up.

“I received your notes,” Margot begins, crossing her arms, “and—”

“We’ll speak on those soon enough.” Menorath glances toward the door, checking to make sure the room is truly empty of all but the two of them. She leans forward, clasping her thin hands together. “First, I must know: Have you completed the potion? Can you make those without magic of their own into natural casters?” There’s an edge to her voice. Something brittle, hopeful, desperate. Something dangerous.

Everything in Margot yearns to flee or to wilt, but instead, she stands straighter, lengthening her spine. And then she lies with a smile on her lips. “I’ve had quite a breakthrough recently, and I’m very close to finishing the potion.”

Menorath lets out a huge breath, slumping in her seat. “Is that true? How fabulous.”

Again, that delicate hope in her voice makes Margot brave. And just curious enough to ask: “What would you do if you were a natural caster?”

“What wouldn’t I do?” Menorath declares, rising from the sofa. She starts to pace, her tiny frame more commanding than a general’s at the war table. “My husband is simply eager to turn a profit, and this would be a profitable venture indeed. As for myself…Do you know what it’s like having to ask your in-law for all your power?”

She shudders, and Margot nearly feels a sliver of sympathy.

Menorath continues. “With this potion, well…” Here, she stops pacing, standing directly in front of Margot, looking up at her with a glint in her eyes. “Let’s just say my world would be very different.”

Margot swallows. “And Yael’s world too, I’d imagine.”

Menorath waves a hand and resumes pacing. “Yes, of course. Will you make your deadline? Summer will pass before you know it.”

“I hope to have it finished by then…but more time will allow me additional tests to ensure that the effects are permanent and the potion is completely safe,” Margot says, putting as much confidence into the words as she can muster. “Especially if it’s for…personal consumption.”