Page 64 of Homegrown Magic

On second thought, this lie has cost them even more than the truth. But they clamp their back teeth together to steady their jaw and shape their face into a mask as lifeless as the one lying on the balcony beneath them, which they bend to scoop up. They tie it back on with shaking fingers they hope she won’t notice in the dark, taking the moment to compose themself as Margot fumbles for her reply.

“Because I’ve hurt you, I…I know,” she whispers.

“You used me, Margot.” They make their voice as cold as their false ram’s horns. “You never wanted me. You wanted a Clauneck.”

“No! It’s not like that, I swear!”

“No wonder you found a common cause with my mother,” Yael forces themself to say. “You two have much in common. You should go now, Margot.”

“Yael, no.” She unwraps her arms from her rib cage to hold up a hand. “Please, just come—”

“Go back to the inn.” They cut her off, surprising themself with all the power of their family name invested in their command. “I’ll stay at the manor. At least here, I’ve always known to sleep with my back to the wall.” The words hurt enormously coming out, very like drawing a dagger from a wound (or so they’d guess) with a fresh wave of blood and pain.

But it does the job. Margot sinks onto her heels on the jasmine-covered balcony floor, no longer reaching for them. She hugs herself around the glittering bodice of her dress as she starts to tremble.

Gods, Yael can still take this back. It isn’t too late.

They can fall to their knees in front of her, press golden kisses into her hands, and beg for the forgiveness they’ve pretended to deny Margot. They can seize their chance to be loved by Margot. And in doing, take back the only gift they have to give her in service of their own happiness.

You have always been thoughtless, Yael, but are you a coward as well?

Yael would cut Clauneck out of themself here and now if they could.

But they can’t.

They cannot be anything but what they are, and what they are would ruin Margot Greenwillow, and Bloomfield as well. Yael can’t leave with Margot, and Margot can’t stay where the Claunecks would soon consume and destroy her, as they do all good things. And they cannot pretend, even for one night, that it isn’t true.

So with a last formal bow, Yael turns away from her, striding back into the cold stone innards of the manor house until they pass beyond her line of sight. Then they drop all pretense of calm and break into a run.

24

Margot

The glass balcony doors slam behind Yael, the noise shaking Margot to her core. She crumples the letter in her hand, wanting to scream, to weep, to throw the hated piece of paper away, or, most especially, to get up and run after Yael.

She does none of those things.

Instead, she sits beneath the jasmine, knees pulled to her chest as much as her corset will allow, and weeps as the sounds of the party grow louder. Laughter, music, the clinking of crystal glasses together, the hum of elegant voices: It all sounds tawdry and terrible. Perhaps Yael has joined their family in the ballroom already, and is down there now, laughing along with beautiful people, every inch the Clauneck heir.

Or perhaps they’ve found their own corner of the manor to cry in.

The thought makes Margot sob, but she forces herself to shove the thought aside. She can’t afford sympathy for Yael, not with what she must do next. Also, some small part of her still can’t believe they’ve walked away from her.

“It’s for the best,” she murmurs to herself, the words punctuated with sniffles as she remembers Yael’s cruel words.

“You never wanted me. You wanted a Clauneck.”

Why had they said that? It certainly wasn’t true, and she never meant to use Yael or lie to them. She only wanted—What?

To save her town. To change her own life. To prove that she did have as much to offer as Granny Fern. To keep hold of a small measure of happiness of her own with someone she adored.

It was always too much to hope for. And now she must make her way through the world alone again.

With a shaking breath, Margot stands. She brushes petals from her skirt, straightens her hair, and wipes at her eyes. She casts one more glance over the balcony railing at the guests gathered below—Yael isn’t among them—and then she flees down endless hallways of the Clauneck manor.

Eventually, she stumbles into the shadowy gardens, ignoring the gasps from startled guests doing secretive things in the shrubbery as she runs across the lawn in her ridiculous heeled shoes. After a few mistaken turns, she makes it to the long row of stables at the back of the Clauneck property.

The stable door is open, and golden lantern light and laughter spill out from the building, illuminating a trio of coach drivers and several stable hands sitting on bales of hay and playing cards. Margot leans against the doorframe, gulping in the warm rich scents of hay, horses and other beasts, and manure. A memory of her and Yael and a few others of their childhood pack sneaking out of the manor and to the stables comes to her unbidden, and she can almost feel Yael’s fingers threaded through hers, as they were back then.