Homegrown Magic

Chapter 23 Yael

23

Yael

Can they forgive Margot?

How can Yael blame her at all?

It wasn’t your fault, they draw in a breath to say, the words a prism refracting half a dozen meanings from one simple phrase.

It wasn’t Margot’s fault that her parents tore to rubble everything that Granny Fern built with their greed and ambition, with their hunger to be just like the Claunecks and their ilk—obvious even to Yael as a child.

It wasn’t Margot’s fault that her parents left her alone in such desperate straits.

It wasn’t Margot’s fault that when Yael fled their childhood home, they stumbled drunkenly into her life, following no star but their own desperation.

It wasn’t Margot’s fault that Menorath had threatened every remaining scrap of happiness that Margot had managed to keep for herself in order to force her hand.

It wasn’t Margot’s fault that the Claunecks have never sought to grow a single thing—only to consume.

And, Yael thinks miserably, it isn’t Margot’s fault she’s fallen for one of them.

YOU, YAEL, ONE OF US?

Clauneck’s voice is louder than they’ve ever heard—a sharply clanging bell—and Yael claps their hands over their ears to stifle the clamor. But they can’t stop it, because it’s inside of them.

YOU, WHO HAVE ALWAYS REFUSED TO PERFORM TO YOUR POTENTIAL? YOU, WHO HAVE PRODUCED NOTHING IN SERVICE OF THIS FAMILY BUT DEMANDED YOUR OWN HAPPINESS AS THOUGH IT WAS OWED? YOU, WHO HAVE REJECTED OUR MAGIC, OUR COUNSEL, OUR WAY OF LIFE? WHAT HAVE YOU TO OFFER THE CLAUNECKS, YAEL, IF YOU ARE ONE OF US? WHAT HAVE YOU TO OFFER ANYONE?

What do they have to offer?

“Yael? Are you all right?”

As the ringing inside of their very bones gradually recedes, they realize Margot’s palms are on their shoulders, fisted in the fabric of their hastily rebuttoned vest, her concern for Yael burning in her eyes.

They lower their hands, shaking their head to clear it.

“Please, say something? Or…or better yet, just come back to the inn with me? We can talk there. It’ll be easier to talk to each other away from all of this.” She nods toward the manor behind them, music seeping up from the ballroom along with the chatter of the jeweled guests below—every powerful person in Harrow but the queens themselves, who are rumored to be putting in an appearance at some point during the ball. “We can leave, Yael, right now, and you can yell at me as much as you like in the carriage, so long as we’re away from here,” she finishes with a little smile that’s sad and hopeful and heartbreaking all at once. “Even if it’s only for tonight. Or perhaps…perhaps we can still figure something out together?”

Yael wants to believe that’s possible. That there’s no problem or power they cannot overcome. Most of all, Yael has never wanted anything more than they want to say yes.

So if any words have ever cost them more dearly than their next, they can’t recall. “We—I can’t, Margot.”

And this too is true.

Because wishing for a happily ever after with Margot Greenwillow is as useless as…well, as Yael Clauneck. No, worse than useless. Their presence in Margot’s life has already cost her dearly, and it will continue to cost her. Even if Margot wants to believe there’s a way to wriggle out from beneath the iron grip of the Clauneck Company, to keep each other and save the village without giving Baremon and Menorath what they want, Yael knows that there isn’t. There is no world in which their parents let them go without Margot losing everything she has left out of love for them, including Bloomfield. Yael’s family wanted a public reunion with their heir, and they got it. Now they want all Claunecks accounted for and back to business as usual before this potentially disastrous summer ends and autumn sets in.

The only way to protect Margot and the people of Bloomfield—the people who welcomed Yael into their homes without knowing that Yael’s family could have them all evicted at any moment—is for Yael to give their family what it wants.

This is what they have to offer.

“You can’t?” Margot repeats. “But—”

“Rather, I don’t want to.”

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.