“We should probably keep moving,” he said, his voice a low rasp.
I nodded and stepped out of his hold. He looked down, and his cheeks flushed scarlet before he turned away, walking downstream. I frowned after him, not understanding until I took a step and remembered how I had tucked my skirts into my belt. They still hung to my knees, my stockings covering every inch of my legs below. I untucked the skirts and caught up with Alan, wondering how he’d react if he saw me in the trousers I had worn when I spent a summer on a fishing boat. That had been my favorite fashion to adopt during my travels.
The simple skirts, blouses, and bodices worn by women in Skorsa and throughout most of Nemya were still better than court fashions, though. They required no help from a maid to don and were far less restrictive. And I loved the freedom of letting my hair hang loose, confined only by a kerchief. Even the tight braid I had to rely on aboard the boat was more comfortable than the elaborate coiffures of the nobility.
“This morning you said Powell was suspicious after you talked to Cole?” I said once I reached Alan’s side. “What happened?”
“Cole needed his mare re-shod. I used to visit the farms and take care of all the horses for years while my father worked in the forge. So, I spoke up while Powell was with Cole. I lied and said we didn’t have any of the correct size shoes on hand, but really I wanted to remind Cole that I knew his horse, that I had done this before. But Powell is used to me only answering his questions, not taking any initiative.”
“I think your gamble worked. Cole came out to see Gemma while I was with her, and he spoke about you a little bit. He said you had always been good with horses, and I think he realized that something wasn’t right. His expression reminded me of how I felt when the charm was forcing me to dismiss you, even after I had seen proof of how skilled you were.”
“Are you still struggling against the charm?”
I considered the question for a moment, thinking back over the past few days. “No,” I said slowly. “I don’t need to remind myself over and over. I must have reached some sort of critical threshold. My thoughts are too set regarding you for the charm to make an impact anymore.”
I didn’t need to keep wearing the rose ring as a reminder—though I had no plans to take it off.
“How is that even possible? Not that I’m complaining, but if you aren’t a mage, how can you overcome the power of the charm like that?”
“Will.” Animate powers—magics that affected living creatures rather than objects—were all limited by the strength of will of the person targeted. “Imagine an object-mover trying to shift the boulder back there. If it is too heavy, their magic can’t do anything. My will is too much for the charm.”
Alan stopped in front of a large willow tree. The branches formed a canopy that fell partially over the stream and hid the area near the trunk almost completely from view. He thrust an arm out, pushing a few branches aside to make a doorway. “But you were affected before.”
I stepped past him into the shadowy bower. “Before, I was only a pebble. But every time I questioned the emotions the charm engendered, I put on a little more weight. I guess a better analogy would be that I strengthened my will. Are you still fighting against feelings of despair?”
He followed me beneath the willow, letting the branches fall back into place. “Not really. It is easy to push the feelings aside. The past two days, I only had room for frustration with Powell.”
I moved all the way to the trunk of the tree, turning so I could lean back against it. “Not worry?”
“Worry would have been for myself. I was only thinking of you.” Alan stopped close enough that he could trap me against the tree, if he wanted.
I swallowed. “I thought you were frustrated with Powell.”
His hands lifted, leaning against the willow’s trunk on each side of my head. “Because he made me miss seeing you two nights in a row.”
My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. There was a strange hesitancy behind Alan’s actions, a pause that came directly after each moment of boldness. He had initiated the kiss the other night, but hadn’t truly given into it until I took control. And just now, the way he had hemmed me in against the tree shouted confidence, but I knew he would back away if I didn’t pull him close.
It made me frustrated with Powell, too. If that man had never used a charm against Alan, I suspected there wouldn’t be a hesitant bone in his body.
I’d have to show him he had no reason to be nervous.
I kissed Alan, knowing that words weren’t what he needed.
He widened his stance, moving closer until my feet were between his, my back pressed against the tree trunk, my chest flush with his. Keeping his hands against the tree, he broke away from my lips and trailed kisses over my cheek, down my jaw, and to my throat. Reaching the spot where my shoulder and neck met, he sucked, his teeth scraping against me.
If there had been any room, I would have fallen, my legs no longer steady enough to keep me standing. But Alan didn’t let me fall, holding me in place against the willow. He released my throat, the brush of his breath against the damp skin sending shivers through me.
“Mina.” The word seemed torn out of him, a harsh exhalation, a curse and prayer all in one. “Gods, what you do to me. I haven’t felt like this since...”
He trailed off, and I went cold despite the warm summer air. I ducked below his arms, stepping away from the tree. Away from him.
I was the only person in years who’d had a real conversation with Alan. The only one to speak to him without contempt. It wasn’t me Alan was drawn to; it was the uniqueness of the situation. He barely knew me.
I barely knew him.
“Since Powell used the charm the first time,” I whispered.
He spun around. “Mina, what—”
