“I’m going to make some tea,” she announced suddenly, rising from the floor. She stretched, arching her back slightly, and Evryn hastily returned his gaze to his documents.
As she padded on bare feet past the table, she discreetly placed a folded note beside his arm. He waited until she had disappeared into the kitchen before unfolding it, revealing a hastily scrawled message:OF COURSE I didn’t tell P. I gave my word, after all. Does that mean nothing to you?
The indignation practically leaped from the page, and Evryn felt a twinge of guilt for his suspicion. Before he could examine the feeling further, Mariselle called from the kitchen, “Would you like tea, Rowanwood?”
“I’m not certain I trust anything in this cottage, even if it has been preserved for the last five decades,” he called back.
“I brought my own tea blends from Brightcrest Manor,” Mariselle replied.
“In that case, I certainly won’t be partaking,” he said, relieved to slip into their familiar pattern of antagonism. Who knew what dreadful concoctions Mariselle might brew.
“Your loss,” she called back, but the rest of her words faded as Evryn’s attention snapped to a particular page in the portfolio he’d been examining. There, in the margin beside a detailed diagram of the underground lumyrite network, were small, meticulous notes he’d come to recognize as his great-uncle’s handwriting.
Lumyrite Echo Visualization, the heading read. Below it, concise instructions described an enchantment that would cause existing lumyrite in the ground to glow, causing a complementary glowing pattern above ground, effectively revealing the entire hidden network. Evryn could then compare this visible pattern to the original diagrams to determine what, if anything, had been damaged or lost.
He stood abruptly, rolling up both the plans that contained the drawing of the lumyrite network and the page he’d found the visualization spell on.He tucked both beneath his arm as he announced, “I’m going to check something outside.”
Petunia muttered something that sounded like, “Don’t hurry back,” and Mariselle didn’t respond at all.
He slipped outside into the cool night air. The moon hung high overhead, bathing the ruins in silvery light as he strode toward them. He took a different path this evening, turning before the large cluster of nightveil orchids and walking beneath what had once been the grand entrance arch. Mariselle’s description of the original Dreamland came to mind as he walked, and he tried to picture what it had once looked like.
He stepped onto the circular platform and moved toward the center where they had discovered the dream core. Reaching the circular depression, he knelt and unrolled the papers, spreading them flat on the stone surface. According to the spell instructions, he needed to position himself at the center of the network—precisely where the dream core had been—and then channel magic downward while reciting the incantation.
He closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath as he gathered his magic. This wasn’t his manifested power, but rather the inherent magic that pulsed through the veins of all fae. The magic that made simple tasks like heating up a cooled cup of tea or tossing a cushion at someone else’s head fairly easy. The familiar warmth began to build within him, that sensation like liquid sunlight flowing through his veins. He extended his hand over the hole, palm down, and began to murmur the words from Thaelan’s notes.
Nothing happened at first. Then, gradually, a faint blue glow began to emanate from the earth beneath his palm. The light intensified, spreading outward in thin, glowing lines that traced complex patterns across the ground. The illumination continued to expand, revealing an intricate network that extended well beyond the pavilion area.
Evryn stood, watching in amazement as the entire lumyrite grid revealed itself. The blue light pulsed gently, forming complex geometric patterns. But from his current vantage point, he couldn’t see the entire network clearly enough to compare it with the diagram. He needed a higher perspective. Good thing Cobalt was waiting nearby.
He stepped off the platform and picked his way across the ruins, passing moss-covered stones and more nightveil orchids, aiming for the trees wherehe’d left Cobalt. The trees he and Mariselle had raced through on the night of the Opening Ball, before all of this had begun.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped at the sound of Mariselle’s voice, calling from somewhere behind him. Not accusatory but filled with genuine curiosity. Evryn turned to find her standing at the edge of the ruins, her eyes wide with wonder as she stared at the ground. “Is this …” She gestured toward the illuminated patterns. “The lumyrite network?”
“Yes. I found the visualization spell in Thaelan Rowanwood’s notes. I’m going to take Cobalt up for an aerial view to compare it with the original drawings.” He turned and continued toward the trees.
“Oh!” He heard Mariselle hurrying after him. “I want to see too.”
Of course she did.
Evryn reached his pegasus at the edge of the trees and began untethering the reins. “Is your mount nearby?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. She wasn’t wearing riding gear. However she had arrived here tonight, it wasn’t by pegasus.
“No, but yours is.” She came to a stop beside him.
He paused, turning to face her with narrowed eyes. “We are not riding a pegasus together.”
“Why ever not?” she asked, already moving past him toward Cobalt’s side. “It shall be but a momentary ascent. Surely your beast can manage two riders for such a brief excursion.”
“That isn’t the point,” Evryn protested, watching with growing alarm as she stroked Cobalt’s neck. The traitorous creature nickered softly, apparently delighted by her attention.
“And what is the point?” she asked.
His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Was she being deliberately obtuse? The two of them would be pressed together on Cobalt’s back, her body flush against his. The very thought made his stomach turn.
Still, he chose a different tack when he spoke out loud. “You’re hardly dressed appropriately for?—”
“So?” she said, brushing him off. “No one is here to observe us or enforce proper etiquette.”
