“Our emotional connection creates islands of healthy plant magic. Which means whatever’s dampening the plant’s ability to touch our emotional magic is targeting true feelings specifically.”
“And our partnership counters it.” She met my eyes. “At least temporarily.”
I brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. “I keep waiting for you to realize this is too much of a mess. That you’d be better off with a quieter alliance.”
Her hand came up to cover mine against her cheek. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I’m starting to suspect I thrive in your particular brand of mess.”
Savory made another pleased sound.
Sasha didn’t break eye contact with me. “She says some gardens need both structure and wildness to truly flourish.”
“She already said that.”
“She’s emphasizing the point.”
I smiled, stroking Sasha’s cheek. The momentstretched between us, full of the growing feeling that this marriage was becoming much more than a political alliance.
Finally, I stepped back. “We should probably finish eating before the food gets cold.”
“That’s practical,” she said, but her eyes held warmth.
We returned to our seats, but everything felt different now.
The air between us hummed with awareness and unspoken promises.
After we’d finished, we went to my office, where Sasha returned to organizing our notes while I reviewed festival preparations. My staff would handle most of it, and I’d given them direction long ago, but it never hurt to review everything when the event was so close. Sasha and I worked together well, occasionally sharing observations or asking questions.
Staff delivered books from the library, and we reviewed those.
I caught myself staring as she explained her theory about magical signatures. She gestured animatedly when passionate about a subject, her hands painting pictures in the air. The intensity in her eyes drew me in and made me want to know every thought crossing her mind.
She was beautiful when she was solving problems. Beautiful all the time, actually, but especially then.
Our hands touched as we reached for the same botanical reference. The contact sent familiar sparks through me. We smiled at each other, neither pulling away.
“Are you planning to footnote our entire investigation?”I asked, nodding at her papers. “Because I noticed you’re taking notes about taking notes.”
“Proper documentation prevents oversights.” She didn’t look up, but I caught the hint of a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “Also, some of us weren’t born knowing how to charm information out of people.”
“Charm is just strategic honesty with better timing.”
“I’m writing that down,” she said, actually making a note in the margin.
I laughed. “You’re serious.”
“Completely. It might be useful for future reference.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her. “You make this all feel manageable. It’s remarkable.”
Now she did look up, and something vulnerable flickered across her face. “You read people like I read tactical manuals. No wonder your court adores you.”
“They adore the performance I give them.”
“No, they adore you because you actually care. The charm is just how you show it.”
The observation settled warm in my chest. She was seeing past my assumptions about myself, the same way I was learning to see past hers.
An idea hit me. “What if I deliberately make you laugh? Will the plants respond?”
