Adrian guessed Clara correctly five.
“Impossible,” Clara said.
“You’re expressive.”
“I am mysterious.”
“You announced this morning that you were going to commit tax fraud because the permit office opened late.”
“That was metaphorical.”
“It was specific.”
Penelope covered a smile.
The final exercise required them to sit close and maintain eye contact for sixty seconds.
“No,” Clara said.
“Yes,” Penelope said.
Adrian sat opposite her.
Their knees touched.
The golden thread between their wrists brightened.
Clara looked into his eyes.
Gray.
But not flat gray.
Storm gray.
Annoyingly nice gray.
Twenty seconds.
She became aware of his breathing.
Thirty.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
Her stomach flipped.
Forty.
The silver lights overhead dimmed.
Fifty.
Clara forgot why she disliked him.
Fifty-eight.
Fifty-nine.
The truth crystal exploded.
Penelope ducked.
Clara jumped.
Adrian grabbed her waist instinctively.
She landed against his chest.
Neither moved.
A piece of crystal rolled across the floor.
Penelope looked up.
“Oh.”
Clara stepped back instantly.
“What?”
Penelope stared at the broken crystal.
“That usually happens when emotional resonance exceeds the instrument’s capacity.”
Clara laughed too loudly.
“Equipment failure.”
“Perhaps.”
Adrian’s hand slowly left her waist.
The golden thread between them glowed brighter all the way home.
Day Three introduced jealousy.
Clara would later deny this.
At eleven in the morning, a woman entered the shop wearing a navy blue coat and confidence Clara found instantly irritating.
She was beautiful.
Tall, elegant, silver-blond hair pinned neatly behind one ear.
She walked directly to Adrian.
“Vale.”
Adrian looked up.
“Selene.”
Clara hated the name.
Selene smiled.
“I heard the rumors were true.”
Clara busied herself rearranging jars that did not need rearranging.
Adrian said, “Unfortunately.”
Unfortunately.
Clara moved a jar too hard.
It squeaked.
Selene glanced at Clara.
“So this is the wife.”
Clara turned.
“Accidental wife.”
“Of course.”
Something about the woman’s smile made Clara want to enchant her shoelaces together.
Adrian stepped between them slightly.
“Why are you here?”
Selene handed him an envelope.
“Emergency permit approvals.”
Clara blinked.
“For the shop?”
Selene looked at her.
“Adrian called in three favors.”
Clara turned to him.
“You did?”
Adrian looked uncomfortable.
“They were procedural favors.”
Selene laughed.
“He hates owing people.”
Clara didn’t know why that mattered.
But it did.
Selene touched Adrian’s arm.
“Dinner before you leave Willowwick?”
The golden thread around Clara’s wrist tightened suddenly.
She hissed.
Adrian looked down.
Selene did too.
The thread flashed.
Clara immediately grabbed a towel and covered her wrist.
“Static.”
Selene’s eyebrows rose.
Adrian’s mouth twitched.
“Tomorrow?” Selene asked.
“I’m occupied.”
Selene looked toward Clara.
“Clearly.”
After she left, Clara returned to the counter.
Adrian followed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re angry.”
“No.”
“The bond tightened.”
“Maybe it hates blondes.”
“Clara.”
She slammed a drawer.
“Was she your girlfriend?”
His eyebrows rose.
“That is not relevant.”
“So yes.”
“No.”
Clara stopped.
“No?”
“No.”
“Did you want her to be?”
Adrian stared.
Clara immediately regretted the question.
“Forget it.”
“She was engaged to my cousin.”
“Oh.”
Clara turned away.
Then turned back.
“Your cousin?”
“Yes.”
“Why did she touch your arm like that?”
He blinked.
“Are you jealous?”
“No.”
The coffee pot laughed.
Clara pointed.
“No one asked you.”
Adrian smiled.
Actually smiled.
Not the tiny almost-smile.
A real one.
It transformed him.
Which was unfair.
Clara stared.
He noticed.
The smile softened.
For one dangerous second, neither spoke.
Then Biscuit jumped onto the counter.
“The sexual tension is damaging my appetite.”
Clara threw a napkin at him.
That evening, they completed the required shared household task.
The bond selected cooking.
Clara protested that she cooked professionally.
The magic ignored her.
Adrian turned out to be excellent in the kitchen.
Of course he was.
He chopped vegetables with precise, irritating competence.
Clara watched from beside the stove.
“Who taught you?”
“My father.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why?”
“You seem like you were raised by librarians.”
“My family employs librarians.”
“That is somehow worse.”
Adrian added herbs to the pan.
Clara tasted the sauce.
Her eyebrows rose.
“This is good.”
“I know.”
She stared.
“Was that arrogance?”
“Observation.”
“I may actually like you.”
He looked at her.
“Dangerous.”
She smiled.
The apartment seemed to notice.
The lights dimmed.
Music started.
“Oh, no,” Clara whispered.
Adrian looked toward the ceiling.
“Stop.”
The apartment ignored him.
A chair slid backward.
Another moved.
The dining table shrank.
Clara grabbed the edge.
“Don’t encourage it.”
“I’m not.”
The entire kitchen floor tilted slightly.
Clara stumbled.
Adrian caught her.
Again.
Her hands landed against his chest.
His arm circled her waist.
They were close.
Much too close.
Clara looked up.
Adrian looked down.
The golden thread flared.
The music stopped.
Everything became quiet.
He moved first.
Barely.
His face lowered.
Clara’s breath caught.
Then a timer screamed.
They jumped apart.
The oven announced, “KISS INTERRUPTED.”
Clara covered her face.
Adrian turned toward the oven.
“I am beginning to understand why she enchants everything.”
Day Four was worse because they now knew.
Not knew knew.
But knew enough.
There had nearly been a kiss.
Neither mentioned it.
This resulted in both of them behaving unnaturally.
Adrian became more formal.
Clara became louder.
By noon, everyone noticed.
Ivy leaned across the counter.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re reorganizing tea by emotional trauma.”
Clara looked at the shelves.
She had accidentally placed heartbreak tea beside digestive relief.
“That proves nothing.”