He looked up at his brother. “Are you still opposed to this marriage?”
Jasvian was silent for a beat, the sounds of conversation and clinking teacups drifting behind them. Then, with a wry smile, he said, “Surprisingly,no. Not anymore. I’ve been …” He looked up, past Evryn, and Evryn followed his gaze until it landed on Iris. “I’ve been made aware of some things recently. And now …” He exhaled and focused on Evryn once more. “And now, seeing the way you look at Lady Mariselle, I don’t find I have it in me to object any longer.”
Evryn arched a brow.“Things?”he repeated. “Would you deign to share some of this older-brother wisdom?”
Jasvian shifted, looking uncomfortable for a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”
Evryn chose not to press the matter. He suspected these ‘things’ his brother spoke of were the kind of earnest revelations about love and destiny that struck otherwise sensible people once they’d locked eyes with their soulmate and lost all capacity for logic.
“My point,” Jasvian continued, “is that you have my support. I’ll stand with you, if necessary, against Grandmother.”
Evryn stared at his brother, momentarily speechless. Of all the responses he’d anticipated to bringing Mariselle to the tea house, unconditional support from Jasvian had not been among them.
“Thank you,” he managed after a moment. “That’s … unexpectedly generous.”
“Is it?” Jasvian gave him a faintly bemused look. “Evryn, you’re my brother. Do you think I want anything less than the best that life can possibly give you? I’ve been lucky enough to find a love that has transformed my existence into something infinitely more meaningful than I’d ever imagined possible. Why should you not have the same? Why should your happiness be diminished simply because of the family name attached to the one who brings it to you?”
A curious tightness constricted Evryn’s throat. Was that the way Mariselle made him feel? It had begun to feel that way while sitting beside her on a dream porch overlooking a dream ocean, her shoulder lightly bumping his as they’d spoken more freely than they’d ever spoken before. But he wondered again if that was only the intimacy of dream sharing.
He released a small breath of a laugh, standing and meeting his brother’s gaze. “I think perhaps you should be having this conversation with Grandmother.”
“Oh, I intend to,” Jasvian assured him. He gripped Evryn’s shoulder in solidarity before they turned back toward the gathering.
“Evryn, dear,” his mother said, approaching him before he reached the table. “Could you find Kazrian? I believe he wandered into the kitchen, but he’s been gone rather longer than fetching a pastry should require.”
“Of course,” Evryn replied, glancing past his mother and noting that Kazrian was indeed gone from the table. Rosavyn had excused herself as well and appeared to be assisting Iris with extinguishing a small blaze that had erupted among the enchanted paper decor that fluttered near the ceiling. Undoubtedly the work of the mischievous hearth sprites he could see scampering across the tea house floor toward the kitchen.
Aurelise and Mariselle now sat closer together, their heads bent in conversation, occasionally breaking into shared laughter. The sight sent a warm current through him, settling somewhere beneath his ribs.
The tea house kitchen was quieter this evening than when Evryn had visited early in the morning almost three weeks prior. Several kitchen pixies were busy washing used teacups and plates, while one had apparently worked itself to exhaustion already and now lay fast asleep on the central worktable, tiny limbs splayed as it snored quietly. Kazrian, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Evryn frowned, moving deeper into the kitchen’s domain. He noticed the pantry door stood a jar, and as he approached, he heard the unmistakable sound of muffled laughter—Kazrian’s distinctive chuckle followed by a softer, more melodic laugh that took him a moment to place.
Pushing the door open wider, Evryn discovered his brother and Lucie Fields seated on the floor of the pantry, their backs against shelves of tea canisters.
“—absolutely cannot be true,” Lucie was saying, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with amusement.
“I swear,” Kazrian insisted. “It was quite a sight to behold.”
They both dissolved into laughter again before noticing Evryn standing in the doorway. Their expressions shifted immediately to identical looks of guilty surprise. Lucie was on her feet in an instant, Kazrian following a moment later.
“Evryn!” he exclaimed, a bit too loudly. “We were just, ah?—”
“Discussing the inventory,” Lucie supplied quickly, her hands twisting together.
“The inventory of … wine?” Evryn inquired mildly, eyes landing on an open amber-hued bottle with a slender neck, partially concealed behind Kazrian’s boot.
Kazrian cleared his throat. “Quality control. Very important aspect of … inventory.”
Evryn suppressed a smile, thinking of his own recent lapses in propriety. “I see.”
“Please don’t tell Lady Rivenna,” Lucie said, her expression growing more concerned. “I was only taking a short break, and Kazrian poked his head in here looking for, um …”
“That starwhisper chamomile blend Mother likes so much,” Kazrian supplied.
“Right. That.” Lucie nodded vigorously. “And we got to talking—onlytalking, I swear—and … I … um …”
“I’m hardly one to judge anyone’s questionable behavior,” Evryn said, backing out of the doorway. “Continue with your … quality control.”
