She turned away, her gaze finding refuge in the endless horizon where sea met sky. Her fingers curled around the edge of the step. “It’s … complicated.” She inhaled deeply, then let her shoulders fall. “And extraordinarily simple, I suppose. I merely … want them to love me. To value me. And they’ve never wanted a daughter with … spirit.”
The admission hung in the air between them, raw and honest in a way that would have been impossible in the waking world.
“That’s why restoring Dreamland means so much to me,” she continued. “If I can accomplish something of such magnitude, something that brings glory to the Brightcrest name, they’ll finally see me differently. Once they witness what I’m truly capable of creating, they won’t speak to me as they did tonight. My achievements will demand the respect they’ve always withheld.”
“Mariselle,” he said gently. “Your true worth isn’t measured by your accomplishments. It exists simply in who you are.”
She turned to look at him, pressing her lips together and blinking away the tears that threatened. There was a slight tremor in her voice when she said, “Is that so, Evryn Secondson Twist?”
Something in Evryn’s expression shifted, recognition dawning in his eyes as her words mirrored his own counsel back to him. He drew back slightly, his gaze sliding away from hers, a small frown puckering his brow. “I suppose that’s … something to consider.”
After another moment’s pause, she said, “Perhaps we should divert ourselves from this particular line of conversation. It seems to have grown rather more intimate than either of us anticipated.”
“Might I say one thing more?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I suspect Dreamland isn’t solely about proving yourself to your family. I’ve witnessed how you come alive when working on it. The way your eyes light with genuine passion. When we stepped into that realm, your entirebeing radiated joy. It wasn’t the expression of someone merely seeking approval. That was the face of an artist in love with her creation for its own sake.”
A smile bloomed across her face, warmth spreading through her chest at his words. They rang true in a way she couldn’t deny. No language could fully capture the exhilaration she’d felt wandering through Dreamland.
“May I share another thought?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “An idea.”
Her lips curved into a wry smile. “Are you truly asking permission, or merely preparing to tell me regardless of my answer?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, a flash of appreciative humor crossing his features. “Dreamland is magnificent as it is, but I’ve been thinking … what if it could be more than a collection of wondrous scenes?”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“What if visitors experience a story rather than merely scenes? With themselves the characters? There could be several, and visitors could choose the narrative they like best. Or perhaps a different story for each day of the week. Something of that nature.”
Mariselle watched his face brighten, his voice warm with enthusiasm. “I like that,” she said. “Do you have any ideas?”
“I’ve had several brewing. Though I’d like to hear yours as well, if you have some.”
“I need to contemplate the possibilities, but I’m genuinely enchanted by the concept,”she replied. “I’ve already begun crafting more intricate environments and experiences, so narrative would be a natural evolution—a way to thread those moments into something cohesive and meaningful.”
“Excellent. While you think on it, I have another question.”
A smile tugged her lips. “Of course you do.”
“How easy is it for you to create dream versions of Cobalt and Cinder within this realm?And if they were to materialize here, might we actually ride them?” His eyes brightened with unmistakable longing. “I find myself rather missing our nocturnal flights. It’s been some time since we raced beneath the stars.”
A grin spread across Mariselle’s face as anticipation coursed through her veins—that familiar, exhilarating promise of stars rushing past and the unmatched freedom that only flight could offer.
“Consider it done,” she said, standing and looking out across the beach, where two magnificent pegasi had just descended from the twilight sky, their hooves sending up a glittering spray of seawater as they landed gracefully in the shallow surf.
“Prepare yourself, Rowanwood,” she said as her evening gown shimmered and rippled, restructuring itself into her riding attire. “For you’re about to taste defeat at my hands once again.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Laughter roseabove the hum of conversation filling The Charmed Leaf Tea House the following night, warm and uninhibited in a way that sparked something in Evryn’s chest. His gaze settled on the source: Kazrian, Aurelise and Rosavyn on the other side of the table, and Mariselle, sitting beside him. Kazrian was currently recounting some tale that appeared to require dramatic hand gestures, while Rosavyn—who had managed to maintain her cold attitude toward Mariselle for approximately three minutes before giving in to laughter—leaned forward occasionally to embellish on the details of the tale, and Aurelise kept dissolving into giggles.
It had been a last-minute decision this morning to extend an invitation to Mariselle for his grandmother’s tea leaf reading, an annual event at which Lady Rivenna performed a somewhat theatrical divination of tea leaves for an intimate gathering of select company.
When Mariselle had first arrived, stepping gracefully through the doorway in a gown several shades darker than her still very blue hair, their eyes had met across the crowded tea house. In that singular moment, something intangible yet profound had passed between them—a silent acknowledgment of boundaries crossed during their shared dream the night before.
But then she’d joined his family at their table, and the moment haddissolved, leaving them to resume their elaborate performance as a soulbonded couple and the subject of Bloomhaven gossip.
