“We’re neighbors,” said Briar. “Linden came into my shop to look around and film, and then I made an outfit for him, and… I guess it all sort of started there?”
Linden put on his brightest smile and kissed Briar’s hand. “Indeed.”
“And this ‘outfit’ you made for him, was it enchanted at all?” Gresham asked.
“Yes,” Briar started to say. “A basic charisma charm for—”
“Why don’t you speak plainly about what you’re insinuating,” Linden interrupted.
Briar went cold with realization.
“You must understand our caution,” Adelaide demurred. “No one has ever drawn so much of Linden’s attention. You’ll forgive us for wondering what it is about you that has our son so charmed.” She said “charmed” with particular emphasis. Again, she looked at his tithes.
Briar tamped down on a tide of anger. He didn’t know how to argue against the assumption, until Linden cut in. “I’ve worn this”—Linden pulled the talisman from inside his shirt—“for the duration of our courtship.”
“Theentireduration?” she pushed.
“I’m not bewitched by some fanciful love spell, much as you’d prefer it.”
“We only worry because we care, darling.”
Gresham strolled the tent, hands laced in front of him. “Well, there’s no point arguing. We came to pose an invitation, didn’t we?”
Adelaide said, “Yes. Mr. Wyngrave, we’d love to invite you to our manor for supper, so we can make better your acquaintance. I’m sure you’d never bewitch our son, but please understand that if you had, you wouldn’t be the first to attempt it. I hope, once we’re certain all’s well, you can forgive us our accusations.”
Linden scoffed. “You insult him, then demand he forgive you.”
Briar put a hand on Linden’s shoulder. He wanted to make a good impression—he had to. “No, I understand. Dinner would be lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild. I look forward to it.”
If either were impressed, they only showed it with a faint raising of their brows. “Perfect!” Adelaide said. “We’ll be on our way, but good luck with the press release, darling. We’ll see you again shortly.”
“Keep in touch,” Gresham added.
They both left through the portal they’d come in by. The tent fell quiet.
Linden said, “That could have gone worse.”
“I didn’t know they were coming. I would have—” Briar cut himself short. Would he have covered his arm?
“They came unannounced. It was deliberate, so you wouldn’t have time to prepare.” He sighed. “You did well.”
“I barely said anything.”
“With my parents, you’ll find that’s for the best.” He turned to kiss Briar’s forehead. “We shouldn’t let it ruin this day.”
Preparations flew by. Three models and a team of hair and makeup artists arrived to style the outfits. The tent became a flurry of movement and hairspray. Briar experienced it through a haze of unease, replaying the interaction with Linden’s parents.
You’ll forgive us for wondering what it is about you that has our son so charmed.
Briar didn’t know the answer. He remembered Rowan wishing him luck, and a sore part of him appreciated Linden’s parents’ caution. He would be far from the first to try and wriggle into Linden’s bed and, by extension, his family’s wealth and good graces. And why was Briar there? For a cure, for a destiny that still made no sense to him.
He glanced across at Linden, who was reviewing makeup palettes. He gleamed, every inch a star, and yet the feelings Briar wanted so badly for him were not there. Something small and hopeful was, but it lacked the depth needed to prove Adelaide and Gresham wrong.
Briar fitted a dress with a pin to the waist of his model. She jumped a bit as he stuck another pin in. “Sorry! Did I catch you?” he asked.
“No, it’s—your aura. It’s a bit loud.”
Briar’s mouth fell open. He so rarely spoke of his own ability and had never met someone who shared it. “Loud?”
