“Powell.”
I looked again and spotted Alan’s stepfather near the back of the spectators. He watched us with a disturbing intensity, then pivoted and marched away from the green.
I urged Alan to keep moving. “We knew he’d probably figure out the charm was broken if he saw you today.”
“Yes, but I don’t like the way he was watching you.”
“I’m merely the evidence that his magic has failed.”
“I still don’t like it.”
Our moment of privacy ended before I could respond. Cole came up and slapped Alan on the shoulder. “I knew I shouldn’t have bothered competing.”
Gemma, her hand resting in the crook of Cole’s other arm, smiled. “But I enjoy watching you, whether you win or not.”
“Then I guess I already won.”
Next to me, Alan snorted softly. “I suppose you would have to settle for whatever you can get.”
Cole glared at him. “You’re just jealous because your lady didn’t say anything as nice.”
Though being brought into the conversation like that left me flustered, I was glad to hear Cole teasing Alan. After an awkward morning, something in Cole’s attitude had shifted around the time we ate. Gemma was still treating Alan with a sort of polite distance that didn’t fit her usual personality, but his old friend had shaken off the lingering effects of the charm.
Alan snorted again. “I don’t need Mina to say anything like that. I saw the way she was looking at me.”
My cheeks flamed. “Alan!”
He smirked and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You were the one who insisted I show off my muscles.”
I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him “showing off” his muscles in a private setting. Heat pooled in my core, and my cheeks grew impossibly redder. I didn’t know how to handle myself in this situation. I had never dealt with anything like it.
Courtiers flirted with flowery language and insincere compliments that annoyed me more than anything. The men who had flirted with me during my visits around Nemya had always brought an awareness of our relative ranks into the encounter, treating me more like a fragile ornament than a flesh and blood woman. My rare affairs had occurred entirely in private. No hand-holding. No sitting close and feeling like we were the only people in existence, despite a field full of others.
No whispers that made me blush and long for more than words.
Cole chuckled when he noticed how flustered I was. Gemma, Affenala bless her, came to my rescue. “It looks like the final competitor finished their throw. I think you won, Alan.”
He glanced back toward the field. “Am I going to have to go accept some sort of prize?”
“Not until all the events finish,” Cole said. “They stopped giving the prizes directly after each contest last year. They only do that for the children’s games now.”
“Good. I have time to hide, then.”
“You don’t want your prize?” I asked. I knew Alan was uncomfortable having the eyes of the entire village on him, but it would be one more moment that could override the impression the charm had left. A recent memory that might sway the village council, making them doubt themselves if they tried to argue he was incompetent.
“The last time I won, the prize was a bronze medallion I had made myself.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Gemma frowning. I gave her an extra nudge to question her beliefs. “Did you make the prizes this year?”
Alan shook his head. “The festival committee hasn’t requested the medallions for years.”
“Because Powell wanted to be paid, I heard,” Cole told us. “He didn’t like the idea of donating the prizes for the festival. Gemma’s family and the Hervors supply them now.”
“Does that mean there is a chance that Alan won one of Mistress Hervor’s baked goods?” I grinned at Gemma. “Sorry, I’m certain the prizes your family donates are lovely too, but I have never come across a baker as talented in Haiwella.”
“Hey,” Alan mock scolded. “Who says I’d share with you if I win a baked treat? It’s my prize.”
“And you only entered because of me. Therefore, I deserve some of the spoils.”
