I tilted my head, studying him theatrically. “Perhaps.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“No, I’m sure many a village maid would find the illusionist remarkably charming,” I said.
“But not you?”
“A man of magic tricks and sweet words? Any good mother would have warned me against someone like you.” My smile faded a little as I thought about my own mother. She had warned me against magicians, affinities, and even Patrick himself, obliquely. What would she think of my traveling in his company?I’m sorry, I said to her silently.I need his help to find you.
“That’s fair,” said Patrick, interrupting my thoughts. “Though I might have tried to win your favor all the same.”
The wistfulness in his voice caught me off guard. I tried to laugh it off.
“I don’t think I would have trusted your intentions.”
“And would you have been right?”
“Oh, undoubtedly,” I said. “You are very good at making people see what you want them to see, and no more. Although … You were very sweet. With the girls.”
He looked into the fire, a bitter twist to his smile now. “I’ve had a lifetime of practice,” he said. “When one is the smallest piece on the board, one learns quickly how to move unnoticed—or appear larger.”
Gisane’s voice broke the silence that followed. “The fire is burning low,” she said. “We will need more wood if we are to make it last the night.”
Patrick stood, brushing the dust from his breeches. “Allow me,” he said with a shallow bow.
I stared into the fire, letting myself be drawn in by its dance. The glow, the sinuous curves, the way the flames came together like hands in prayer and then parted reminded me of the shapes of the Temple motifs. Gisane sat beside me, halting my reverie.
“You’ve a good man there,” she said gently. “Charming. Clever.” She nudged me in the side. “Handsome.”
I sat up straighter, startled. “Charming and clever, certainly,” I said, with a little acid in my tone. “But he’s notmine. We are just traveling together. Temporarily.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, my lady. I thought …”
“It’s all right,” I said hurriedly, hearing the sounds of Patrick returning. He stepped into the clearing with an armful of wood and a faint smile on his lips. Was he handsome? I studied him. His features were pleasing, if sharp, and his green-brown eyes were arresting. He had a presence, there was no doubt about that—despite being a small man, he seemed to be able to shape the world about himself, taking up more space than was his due.
“Plenty of kindling out there, if a little damp,” he said, setting it down near the fire. His eyes flicked to me. I turned mygaze back to the fire, my cheeks burning, and he crouched to add wood to the flames. His expression remained calm, almost amused.
“Have I missed some profound exchange?” he asked lightly, arranging the kindling with care.
“No,” I said quickly. I kept my eyes on the flames, avoiding both his gaze and the knowing look I could feel from Gisane.
“Just the idle chatter of women,” she said.
We managed to get some sleep that night, at least. Neither of us relished the thought of being pressed together in the saddle for another day, but we still had a little way to go before we reached Spire, and we could not linger. Before we left, Patrick crouched beside the little girls to show them one last trick—making a pebble disappear from his hand and reappear behind Mari’s ear. The younger girl squealed with delight, clapping her small hands, while Lina fixed her wide eyes on his every movement.
“Again!” Mari cried, giggling as she reached for his hand.
“I’m afraid not, my lady,” Patrick said as he ruffled her hair. “We’ve a long road ahead.”
“Don’t go,” she pleaded, her small hands clutching at the hem of his cloak.
“I’m afraid we must,” he said, straightening. Lina sniffled but nodded reluctantly. Mari clung to him a moment longer before stepping back, tears brimming. She glanced at her sister, then at me, and then back at Patrick with sudden determination.
“When I grow up,” Mari declared, her voice small but firm, “I’m going to marry you.”
Patrick blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then he laughed, a warm, rich sound.
“Are you now?” he said.
