“That,” she said sharply, “is not happening. Now bring those drawings over here and help me locate the dream core.”
Evryn approached the table and laid the drawings before her with exaggerated care, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the parchment. “And what if this precious core no longer exists?”
“It should. According to what I’ve just read, it was designed to be virtually indestructible. A necessary precaution given its central importance to the entire enterprise.”
She exhaled a long breath, releasing some of her frustration, and turned the book she’d been reading toward him so he could examine the illustration more closely. “This is what we’re looking for. We need to locate and retrieve it before any other work can proceed. Everything else depends upon having a functional dream core.”
Evryn studied the diagram with reluctant interest. “I believe I saw this somewhere,” he murmured after several moments. “I think it was …” He reached for the scattered drawings, leafing through them in search of one in particular. He pulled one out and laid it atop the others, then bent low over the table and traced a finger toward the center of the design. “Ah, yes.” He rotated the diagram to face Mariselle and tapped a spot with his index finger. “Does that look like it? At the very heart of the central pavilion.”
Mariselle leaned over the drawing, narrowing her eyes until she could read the tiny label alongside the illustration nestled within the intricate lines of the blueprint. “Yes, that’s it!” she exclaimed. She straightened, rolled up the diagram, and thrust it into Evryn’s hands. “Come along. We have excavation work ahead of us.”
“Very well,” Evryn said with a long-suffering sigh. “Lead on, my industrious little badger.”
Mariselle shot him a warning glare. “We are not in public, Rowanwood. Your nauseating endearments are unnecessary.”
“Forgive me. Old habits.”
“Oh, and bring that lantern,” she added, pointing to the brass-framed lantern hanging on a hook behind the door. She grasped the handle and pulled the door open before stepping into the cool night air. Evryn followed, lantern in hand and the rolled-up diagram tucked beneath one arm. She reached past him to shut the door as his magic flared briefly, igniting the dull crystal at the lantern’s center. Warm golden light bloomed, casting long shadows across the ground.
Mariselle turned and faced the darkened ruins, a shiver of anticipation coursing through her veins. “Come on,” she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.
They left the cottage and made their way along the overgrown path that led toward Dreamland’s ruins. In the darkness, the intricate silvery patterns of their matching marks glowed faintly. As they walked, Mariselle found herself struck once again by the melancholy beauty of the abandoned attraction. In daylight, the ruins possessed a romantic quality. Elegant decay softened by moss and climbing vines. But at night, with shadows pooling around the broken arches and what remained of the pavilion frame, the destruction seemed more profound.
“Just imagine what it once was,” she said, her voice growing wistful. “A grand pavilion tent stretched across this frame, shimmering with magic. A flag flying from the highest point, visible from anywhere in town. That archway over there was the grand entrance, leading directly to the pavilionwhere rich curtains were drawn back like the opening to some magnificent stage, welcoming visitors inside. One day soon, Rowanwood, we shall see it restored to its former splendor.”
“Perhaps,” Evryn said, sounding entirely unconvinced, “though I still maintain this is folly.” They picked their way over a cluster of nightveil orchids, almost invisible in the shadows with their near-black petals. “Even if we manage to locate this dream core, and even if we somehow acquire the necessary materials and complete the reconstruction, what makes you believe Dreamland will be a success second time around? The original closed under rather spectacular circumstances, as I recall.”
“The original closed because a Rowanwood and a Brightcrest could not agree on how to run it, and that resulted in devastating failure. Your great-uncle wanted more recognition for himself instead of all the acclaim going to my grandfather for constructing such a magnificent wonder, so he began recklessly experimenting with dangerous lumyrite configurations that resulted in the destabilization of the entire operation.”
Evryn stopped and turned to face her, his expression incredulous. “That isn’t what happened. Your grandfatherdeliberatelysabotaged the lumyrite network so that he could blame the Rowanwoods for Dreamland’s failure and force my great-uncle Thaelan out. Krenshaw Brightcrest wanted Dreamland for himself. He was looking for alternative power solutions thathecould control so he wouldn’t have to share with a Rowanwood.”
Indignation burned in Mariselle’s veins. “What nonsense! It was the selfishness of Rowanwoods, always wanting to take recognition for themselves, that led to the dream space collapsing and my grandfather being caught in eternal slumber.”
Evryn took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. “No, your grandfather was caught in eternal slumber becausehe overused his own magic.”
Mariselle flinched. It was true that her grandfather’s condition—which had lasted for almost ten years before death had finally claimed him—had long served as a solemn warning within her family. A cautionary tale of the consequences awaiting those who pushed their dream magic beyond its natural limitations.
But in family accounts, he had always been portrayed as the hero. The man who had sacrificed himself in order to buy precious time for innocent visitors to escape Dreamland before he himself became eternally imprisonedwithin the dream realm. Never before had someone cruelly declared that her grandfather’s decade-long imprisonment within his own dreams was entirely his own fault.
Mariselle’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, but her voice remained remarkably steady as she said, “And he would not have had to overuse his magic ifyourancestor hadn’t destabilized the dream space and forced my grandfather to try and save it.”
Evryn’s eyes narrowed further. “Except that it wasyourancestor who caused that destabilization, not mine.”
Mariselle whirled away and continued along the path, hands fisted at her sides. This was ridiculous, arguing about transgressions from the past that neither of them had even been present for.
“Go home,” she told Evryn, not bothering to look over her shoulder at him. “I shall find the dream core myself.”
She strode forward, the only sounds her own footsteps crunching against fallen leaves and the occasional swish of her skirts against rough stone or low bushes. The remains of the pavilion frame and the broken archways surrounding it created strange shadows against the star-strewn sky. Darkness deepened around her as the warm glow of the lantern grew increasingly distant with every determined stride she took.
“Brightcrest!” Evryn shouted, his voice echoing oddly among the remains of the once-grand structure.
She ignored him, quickening her pace despite the low visibility. Without warning, her skirts caught on something, and she tugged them free with an impatient jerk. Three steps later, her foot landed on loose gravel, sliding unexpectedly and twisting at an unnatural angle. She stumbled as pain shot through her ankle, barely catching herself against a crumbling column.
“Brightcrest, don’t be ridiculous.” His voice was closer now, irritated and alarmed all at once. The lantern’s glow grew stronger behind her. “How are you going to get the dream core back to the cottage by yourself?”
She pressed forward, ignoring the pain flaring up the side of her ankle and pretending not to hear Evryn.
“Mariselle!” he called, and it was only the use of her given name, which she was quite certain she’d never heard him utter before, that stopped her.
