The music swelled toward its conclusion, and Evryn made a split-second decision. As the final notes hung in the air, he swept Mariselle into a low dip, supporting her weight effortlessly as he gazed into her startled eyes.
“Rowanwood,” she hissed, barely audible. “What are you doing? This isn’t part of the?—”
“Giving the people what they want, my glittering dewberry,” he replied softly, before slowly returning her to an upright position. A stunned silence fell over the assembly. For several heartbeats, not a single sound disturbed the stillness. Then the High Lady began to clap, and as though released from a spell, the entire gathering erupted into enthusiastic applause.
“What a magnificent display,” the High Lady called out as the applause subsided. “Please, everyone, join our soulbonded couple for the next dance.”
As other couples moved to take their places, Evryn maintained his hold on Mariselle’s hand. “Before the next dance begins,” he announced, his voice carrying across the ballroom, “I should like to present my betrothed with a small token of my affection.”
Mariselle’s eyes widened fractionally, a flash of panic crossing her features. “Darling,” she said, her voice sweet but her eyes promising retribution, “there’s no need for such displays.”
“Nonsense, my cinnamon moonflower,” he replied warmly. “There is every need.”
With a dramatic sweep of his hand through the air, tiny sparkles of magic cascaded to the ballroom floor directly before Mariselle. The marble shimmered and rippled like disturbed water, and suddenly, enchanted red roses began to grow upward at an impossible speed, their stems twisting elegantly, buds unfurling before the astonished eyes of the gathered guests.
With another flourish of his hand, the stems detached from the floor andthe bouquet swept itself up into a perfect arrangement, ribbons of silver light binding the stems together before the entire creation floated gently into Mariselle’s startled hands.
“Ever-blooming flowers,” he proclaimed, bowing deeply, “for you, my sweet pumpkin snowflake.”
A collective sigh rose from the surrounding ladies as Mariselle accepted the bouquet, her performance flawless as she summoned a blush to her cheeks. In all honesty, she was horrifyingly good at this. What manner of magic allowed her to call forth a genuine blush on command?
“They’re beautiful,” she said, her voice carrying just the right note of pleased surprise. “Thank you, my love.”
“But wait,” Evryn said, raising one finger. “There’s more.”
Another sweep of his hand, and the floor near Mariselle’s feet shimmered again. This time, delicate pink orchids sprouted and grew. Once again, they detached and arranged themselves into a perfect bouquet before floating up to join the roses in Mariselle’s arms.
“For my dazzling cloudberry,” he declared.
Before she could respond, he produced a third floral display with the same magical flourish, this one comprising exotic purple blooms.
“And these,” he added, “for my dearest sugarplum starshine.”
Mariselle juggled the growing collection of flowers, an awkward laugh escaping her lips as she glanced around at the rapt audience. “Is that not enough, my love?”
“There will never be enough flowers for you, my spiced nutmeg cookie,” Evryn replied earnestly, causing yet another patch of marble floor to ripple and bloom with yellow flowers that hummed a gentle melody.
“How thoughtful,” Mariselle managed, her arms now completely full of magical flora. She looked around with increasing desperation, clearly uncertain how to gracefully extricate herself from the mounting foliage.
Taking pity on her—though only slightly—Evryn signaled to a nearby palace attendant, who hurried forward. “Would you be so kind as to assist Lady Brightcrest with her floral tributes?” he asked. “I fear I’ve overwhelmed her with my enthusiasm.”
“Of course, my lord,” the attendant replied, carefully relieving Mariselle of her fragrant burden.
“To grace your chambers at Brightcrest Manor,” Evryn added, smilingbroadly at Mariselle as the attendant carried the flowers away. “So you’ll always be able to think of me, even when we’re apart.”
He was rewarded by the sight of several young ladies nearby pressing hands to their hearts, visibly moved by this display of affection. Even better was the flash of genuine irritation that crossed Mariselle’s face before she smoothed it into a loving smile.
“How could I possibly forget you?” she replied sweetly, though her eyes promised revenge.
The string ensemble struck up the introduction to the next dance, and Evryn once again offered his hand to Mariselle. As they resumed their position, she leaned close, her lips nearly brushing his ear.
“You’re going too far,” she whispered fiercely. “I told you to act convincingly, not to make a spectacle of us both.”
“My darling enchanted rosebud,” he replied in a low tone, guiding her into the first steps of the dance, “you wanted everyone to believe in our love. I’m simply ensuring that no one harbors the slightest doubt.”
They executed a graceful reverse turn, Mariselle’s serene smile never wavering. “If you produce one more bouquet,” she threatened quietly, “I will find a way to make you eat it.”
“Such passion,” he sighed dreamily. “It overwhelms me.”
