in wild circles, as if mimicking the way Edan’s moved when he talked might help him understand. “And the other night when you tried to kiss me, I thought—I thought you might—”
I stopped, a hot burst of embarrassment flaring across my cheeks. Suddenly I wished the earth would open and swallow me up.
Gods, what had I just done? What had I just said?
I jumped off my horse, but Edan caught my arm before I could go. “You thought I might what?” he asked. All humor had fled his voice, and I couldn’t bear the intensity of his gaze.
“Nothing,” I mumbled.
“Maia—Maia. Look at me.”
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Edan wouldn’t let me go. His voice turned soft. “You thought I might care for you?”
I pinched my eyes shut, mustered a scowl. “I said it was nothing.”
“It wasn’t to me,” he said, still quiet. “I wasn’t pretending. I do care.”
Now I looked at him, half sure I’d find a grin on his lips and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, but there was none.
“I do care,” he repeated. “But when you’re an enchanter, there isn’t much time for romancing. No girl has ever caused me to question this.” His voice became even softer, if that was possible. “Then again, none of the girls were you.”
My knees wobbled then, and my scowl fell out of place. “Me?”
“You’re quite oblivious at times, my xitara.”
“Stop teasing me,” I said, my lower lip quivering. “It isn’t funny.”
Edan’s broad shoulders tensed, but his eyes—his deep, sapphire eyes—were clear. “I tried to tell you, but I thought—” He inhaled. The Edan I knew was never at a loss for words.
“Thought what?”
He took a step closer to me. “I thought you found me disagreeable.”
Another step. “I do,” I said, my breath catching in my throat. Edan’s gaze burned through me, and despite what I was saying, my body did not rebel against his coming closer. “Highly disagreeable. And impossible.”
He drew me close, practically lifting me off my feet, and kissed me.
His lips pressed against mine. Gently at first, then with increasing urgency as I started to respond with my own need.
His hand was tight on my waist, holding my wobbly knees steady. His other hand slid up my back, finding the end of my braid and undoing it. Then his fingers raked through my hair, loosening it into waves off my shoulders.
He let me go then, as if he remembered I needed to breathe.
Edan took a step back. His jaw was tight, his shoulders squared.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“No,” he said, raising his hand to keep distance between us. He sucked in a breath. “This is wrong. It was a moment of weakness.”
A twinge of hurt sharpened in my chest. “Oh, I see.” My face was hot, and I turned away before my humiliation could become too much to bear.
“Wait, Maia.” Edan reached for my arm. My sleeve slipped through his fingers. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” My voice came out wounded when I’d meant for it to sound harsh. “Make up your mind, enchanter.”
“I told you the other day…that you…you make me wish things were different.” Edan opened and closed his fists. He let out an uneven breath. “I don’t want to give you false hope. And I don’t wish to be selfish. You deserve someone who can be with you. That someone isn’t me.”
“Then you are being selfish,” I said. “Don’t kiss me, then tell me I should be with someone else. Don’t—” Don’t make me fall in love with you. My tongue stopped, unable to say it. “Just don’t.”
I ran for my horse, bounding onto the saddle and kicking her to a gallop. The rush of wind did little to help my heart stop pounding in my ears, but it was good to be alone. I needed to be alone.
My emotions were tangled, and I didn’t know how to sort them. What did I feel about Edan? Did it even matter? He was a servant to his oath, unless Emperor Khanujin freed him.
He would spend a thousand years as a slave to magic—while I would sew a few dresses for the new empress, then be lost in the vast sea of time and history.
How was there any hope for us?
“Maia,” he called. “Maia, please. Wait.”
I wouldn’t look at him.
Opal and I sped for the Mountains of the Moon. This time, Edan didn’t try to catch up.