“The dream core,” Mariselle whispered, her heart racing wildly and her voice filled with wonder. “It’s here. It’s actually here.”
The sphere was larger than the illustration had suggested, its surface a combination of etched silver metal and embedded lumyrite crystal that caught the moonlight in hypnotic patterns. Mariselle could barely contain the thrill coursing through her veins, threatening to burst from her chest in an undignified squeal of pure elation.
“Isn’t it the most incredible thing you’ve ever laid eyes on?” she whispered.
When Evryn didn’t respond, she looked up and found him watching her with an odd expression.
“What?”
He shook his head, settling back on his heels as he surveyed their discovery. “How do you propose we extract something of this size?”
“I believe, my dearest betrothed, that we shall have to attempt something no Rowanwood and Brightcrest have managed in over fifty years.” She met Evryn’s gaze over the dream core, her lips quirking up in challenge. “Work together.”
Chapter Eleven
The most sensiblecourse of action would have been to avoid his grandmother entirely until the charade with Mariselle had reached its inevitable conclusion. Yet here Evryn was, approaching The Charmed Leaf Tea House the morning after helping Mariselle locate Dreamland’s dream core. He had, after all, stupidly declared that Mariselle would be joining him at the tea house on Thursday afternoon—which was nowtomorrowafternoon—and his grandmother needed to be warned.
The air carried the mingled scents of lavender and freshly turned soil as Evryn strode along the path that wound around the side of the building toward the back garden, where gnomes and garden pixies argued amongst the rows of herbs and flowers. His mind still lingered on the previous night’s expedition. The memory of Mariselle’s face when they’d uncovered the dream core—that moment of pure, unguarded wonder—had stayed with him. It was so at odds with her usual cold demeanor that for a heartbeat, he’d almost found her … bearable.
But the notion of actually restoring Dreamland remained utterly preposterous. Even if the lumyrite network remained intact beneath the ground, and even if Evryn managed to acquire and shape all the necessary lumyrite to replace the damaged parts, there still remained the fact that Mariselle wassimply incapable of the complex magic required to bring Dreamland back to life.
Evryn had caught sight of a list of the various dream magic wielders who had been involved in the operation of the original attraction in one of Mariselle’s open volumes the night before. Dream architects, dream guides, portal weavers, boundary warders—whatever they might be. And what could Mariselle do? Extract dream essence. That was all.
Still, he wouldn’t try to stop her. The sooner they reached the part of this absurd plan where she realized she couldn’t ‘have Dreamland,’ the sooner the farce could end. Her inevitable failure would release them both from this ridiculous bond, not because the magical contract would allow it, but because she would have to acknowledge the impossibility of her goal.
At that point, she would finally allow him to find an expert in magical law who could figure out how to discreetly break the contract for them. Then they could announce that the soulbond did not appear to be strong enough to overcome years of animosity, and that it had faded away naturally, leaving them no longer engaged. Evryn could then return to his comfortably inconsequential existence.
He reached the back entrance to the tea house and slipped inside, finding the kitchen already bustling with activity. The familiar warmth and sweet-spiced air enveloped him immediately, soothing his growing apprehension. Despite not visiting as frequently as Jasvian, the tea house kitchen had always been a sanctuary of sorts. Memories flashed unbidden—himself as a small boy darting between tables, snatching pastries meant for paying customers, his grandmother’s voice calling after him in exasperation. She’d enchant a dustpan and brush to chase him through the kitchen and out into the gardens when his mischief threatened to disturb her patrons. He’d shriek with laughter as he ran, the brush bristles tickling his ankles while kitchen pixies cackled from their perches atop shelves.
His smile faded as the memory dissolved, leaving him to wonder when exactly that carefree part of his childhood had slipped away. The distance between himself and his grandmother had grown so gradually he couldn’t pinpoint its origin. Was it around about the time of his manifestation, as he began testing his independence and chafing against family expectations? Or perhaps when his father died, which had happened shortly after Evryn’s ability had revealed itself, grief shrouding the household during a time thatshould have been spent celebrating new magic. He hated to admit it, but he envied the close relationship Jasvian shared with their grandmother. His brother had always been the favored one, his tempest-calming abilities essential to the family business in a way that Evryn’s magic never would be.
“Lord Evryn!” a bright voice called from across the kitchen. Looking up, he spotted Miss Lucie Fields, the young human serving girl who worked for his grandmother, at the large central worktable. An apron was secured around her waist, and a dusting of flour—or was it confectioner’s sugar?—stood out against her light brown skin where it had settled across her right cheek.
A territorial line of sifted flour bisected the table’s surface, an unspoken boundary that separated her domain from that of Orrit, the brownie who had been with The Charmed Leaf since the day the establishment opened. The small creature was currently hunched over his own workspace, tiny hands kneading scone dough with fierce concentration.
“The gossip birds were just chatting about you,” Lucie informed Evryn.
“Ah, what delightful rumors are they spreading this morning?” he asked as he made his way toward her, navigating around a kitchen pixie that darted past with a silver spoon nearly as large as itself.
“They’ve been positively giddy about the engagement ball,” she said, her hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as she grinned. “According to their dramatic reports, it was quite the spectacle.”
“I dread to ask,” Evryn said, plucking a candied cherry from a nearby bowl, “but exactly how embellished have their accounts become?”
“Hmm, let’s see,” Lucie said with a hint of mischief in her voice. She frowned down at the delicate chocolate shells taking shape beneath her careful hands. “Something about the soulbonded couple being scandalously familiar with one another. One bird insisted it witnessed Lord Rowanwood practically licking Lady Brightcrest’s hand during an especially prolonged hand kiss. Another claimed you conjured flowers that whispered love poems so explicit that several elderly ladies nearly fainted.”
“I can assure you, there was no hand licking. And the flowers merely hummed, though I’ll admit they did occasionally emit sighs that might have been misinterpreted by those with vivid imaginations.”
“How terribly boring,” Lucie said with a laugh. “Nevertheless, my congratulations on finding someone who apparently inspires such devotionin you. It’s rather unexpected, given the families involved, but I wish you every happiness with Lady Mariselle.”
“Thank you,” Evryn said, his smile slipping slightly as he remembered the charade and the real reason he was visiting the tea house this morning. “Those are rather impressive,” he added, nodding toward the delicate chocolate confections and further delaying the inevitable confrontation that awaited him upstairs.
“Oh, thank you,” Lucie said, her focus returning to her task. “Lady Rivenna is introducing a new tea service this week that includes enchanted chocolates. When consumed alongside particular tea blends, they enhance the flavor experience.” Her fingers trailed through the air, shaping another piece.
Evryn watched, genuinely intrigued by the girl’s skill. For a human working with magic, her control was remarkable. His gaze caught on the rose-gold ring adorning her right hand, a small lumyrite stone set at its center—the source of her magical amplification, no doubt. Humans required such aids to channel magic, possessing none of their own.
Behind Lucie, kitchen pixies darted about, polishing silver tea services and arranging cutlery with military precision. Hearth sprites tended the fires, their glowing forms pulsing with the perfect heat needed for each preparation. The controlled chaos of the pre-opening routine unfolded around them, a dance of magical beings and humans working in surprisingly harmonious tandem.
“Is my grandmother about?” Evryn asked finally, knowing he could delay no longer.
