Ten - Mina
Ten
Mina
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I wasn’t sure why Alan had suddenly given up last night, but I was determined to prove to him that it was possible to change people’s minds. I’d have enough optimism for both of us. Once I had my proof, I’d show him how wrong he had been to walk away.
Even when the charm hadn’t been in Skorsa that first day I visited the smithy, it had taken considerable effort to make the Wrisons entertain the idea that they had misjudged Alan. Years of magically influenced thought patterns wouldn’t be overcome easily. Now that the charm was back in Skorsa, it would be even harder to convince someone. I rubbed a finger against the rose ring. Harder, but not impossible. All magic had limits.
I thought of the diamond tucked under my shirt and reviewed the warnings the mind-bender had delivered along with my charm. The mage had interrupted his own explanations every other sentence to assure my parents and me that his charm, of course, held enough power to keep my identity hidden in any situation. The warnings came more from what he had glossed over than what he had said.
Most of his tutorial had focused on how well the charm countered logical arguments. No one could walk up, point at me, and say, “Mina is the princess and here is why...” because they’d be under the influence of my charm if they came near. But if they did, the mage had reassured me, his charm would make people doubt even the most logical arguments the moment the speaker stopped making them. And it would take stronger arguments to convince people—even momentarily—than under circumstances without a charm involved.
When my father asked about emotional arguments, the mind-better had admitted they could circumvent the charm with less effort, though the effects would still fade. He had brushed aside my concern about that vulnerability, claiming that emotional arguments were weaker than logical ones.
Though I wished people listened to reason more, my experience contradicted the mage’s perspective. Emotional arguments swayed more people, with less effort. Emotions, therefore, were the key I’d use to prove Alan wrong.
The Wrisons, by and large, were a rational family. They wouldn’t be the best ones to test my theory on. Kayla would be easily swayed by emotions, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell if she broke past the charm’s magic, given how much she disparaged everyone. Hannah would take her cues from Kayla.
I needed Gemma.
I made my way to the general store, a relatively large building in one corner of the village square. As I walked through the square, I couldn’t help but look at the smithy off to my right. But I didn’t change my path. I’d deal with Alan later.
“Good morning, Mina,” Gemma greeted me with a wide smile. “Are you picking something up for Mistress Wrison this morning?”
I glanced around. Neither of Gemma’s parents were in the front room of the store today, nor were any other customers. Gemma was rearranging the shelves, pulling wares forward and twisting them so labels were easily visible. Her curly golden hair was confined by a simple kerchief, and she had tied an apron around her narrow waist.
I pulled a spare apron from the peg behind the counter. “No. I thought I might help out again today. ”
“You don’t need to do that. You already did so much yesterday.”
I looked around the store once more, and though we were alone, I lowered my voice. “Helping is just an excuse. I wanted a chance to talk to you privately.”
Gemma matched my volume. “Is it about Kayla? Did you notice how off she seemed yesterday, too?”
I twisted a canister of tea so the label faced the edge of the shelf. “What do you mean? I only saw Kayla in passing yesterday, but she seemed well enough.”
“That’s just it. She was so cheerful.”
I looked at Gemma askance. “You are worried because Kayla was happy?”
“Happy isn’t really the word I would use.” Gemma glanced at the shop in much the same way I had earlier, as if afraid someone had walked in while we were speaking. But we were still alone. “Kayla is always energetic, but she expects other people to make her happy. Yesterday, however, she was smug.”
I looked at Gemma sidelong. “I know you hate to say anything negative, but I wouldn’t call Kayla acting smug abnormal.”
“But being secretive is unusual for her.”
Gemma had a point. Bragging was standard for Kayla. If she felt smug about something, she’d share the cause with the world. I frowned, realizing her behavior matched Gemma’s description the day before when we went cherry picking, too. I gasped. “She never told me what Jeff wanted to talk to her about.”
Gemma’s lips parted. “Jeff?”
How had I missed that? I was right there when Jeff went up to see her. I had expected to hear what he had said, and then promptly forgot. “He spoke to her right before we left to pick cherries, and she didn’t mention him once all afternoon.”
Gemma’s eyes went wide. “She didn’t yesterday, either. Oh my. What do you think Jeff might have said?”
“All I know is he didn’t propose. But Sam mentioned he was going to work at his uncle’s shop in Haiwella soon.”
“Yes, I think he left yesterday afternoon. ”
We stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, I asked the question we were both thinking. “What could he possibly have said that she wouldn’t share?”
“There’s only one type of thing I can think of that would keep Kayla silent. It must be something so amazing that the embarrassment if it didn’t come to pass would outweigh all the pleasure she’d have gotten from bragging.”
“More than just Jeff possibly marrying her and giving her a life in the city?”
Gemma nodded. “Kayla knows that if she says she won’t marry him unless he moves to the city, Jeff will do it. There must be something else.”
“Maybe Jeff said something to Sam that can give us a clue.”
“I’ll ask Cole, too.” Gemma moved to the next shelf. “Wait, you said you had something to talk about privately. If it wasn’t about Kayla, then what was it?”
I remembered my goal from when I had walked into the shop, but the urgency was no longer there. Alan’s situation didn’t really—I twisted the rose ring around on my finger and clenched my fist, pressing the ring into my flesh. It mattered.
My determination returned. I needed an emotional argument. A twinge of guilt struck. The woman at my side didn’t deserve the words I would hurl at her in the coming minutes. She was a victim of the charm, too. But to make her see past the magic, I couldn’t afford to tread lightly. Besides, if she knew why I was doing this, she’d forgive me. Gemma would understand that all I wanted was to help Alan.
There was no point in drawing out the conversation. “Why does everyone—including you—look down on Alan?”
Gemma fumbled the canister of tea in her hand, sending it clinking into another. “It’s not like that. Alan is nice, I suppose. He’s reserved and quiet. But his father was an incredible blacksmith. It is just so disappointing that Alan didn’t inherit the talent. ”
Fighting the urge to get into a pointless argument regarding Alan’s lack of talent, I focused on riling Gemma’s emotions. “Is it so shameful not to be a brilliant blacksmith?”
“Of course not! Everyone has their own talents. Our differences make the village stronger.”
“Ah. It is only shameful when a son can’t eclipse his father. Following other paths isn’t honorable.”
“No!”
I had riled Gemma. Now to see if her emotions could force her to break through the hold the charm had on her thoughts.
Gemma took a deep breath. “It is unfair for a child to always live in the shadow of their parents. Not every man is meant to follow in his father’s footsteps. My Cole doesn’t plan to take over his father’s farm, and there is nothing shameful about that.”
I bit back my frustration. We were getting off topic. “But Alan has to be a blacksmith?”
“Alan is a disgrace to his family’s name! He should strive to live up to his father’s example. He won’t reach it, but that’s no excuse not to try.”
I stared at Gemma in shock. I had never heard her say anything so disparaging about another person. Nor had I ever heard such disgust in her voice. The charm held her even tighter than it had Sam during my arguments with him. Either Gemma was more susceptible to the magic, or I had everything backward.
An emotional argument ran head-long into the blocks the charm had placed on the villagers’ perceptions. Alan wasn’t the victim of a mind-bender, but a heart-changer. I should have realized it earlier. Everyone always expressed the same opinion about him: disappointment.
It wasn’t their thoughts being twisted around, but their emotions.
If emotional arguments were the weakness of my charm, then they were the strength of this one. My emotional appeal to Gemma, therefore, had butted up against the full power of the charm. It explained her unnaturally vehement response .
Which meant I was back to the slow and frustrating approach of appealing to logic with people who didn’t want to see the truth.
But not now.
And not with Gemma.
I made my excuses and fled.