“What did you say?” her mother whispered.
The words tumbled out in a desperate rush. “There is no soulbond. It’s a marking that relates to a magical contract. A contract drawn up by Grandmother and Valenrik Rowanwood years ago. An agreement to restore Dreamland.”
“Dreamland?” her father barked. “This is aboutDreamland?”
“Evryn and I accidentally triggered the contract when we came across it at Windsong Cottage. And it seemed like it might actually be possible to fulfill. He possesses the lumyrite shaping ability, and I possess the magic necessary for dream architecture, so we decided to go ahead. We made up the entire soulbond story so we could work on the restoration project in secret without having to answer questions about what the magical marking related to,” she continued, her voice growing strength as her parents simply stared, mouths agape. “It looks almost precisely like a soulbond, so the story came naturally. And Father, we’re so close. So close to restoring it to what it once was. Dreamland will beours! It will rival the influence of The Charmed Leaf. It will bring prestige to our family?—”
“You lied to us,” her mother said, her voice hollow with disbelief. “To society. To everyone.”
“I had to,” Mariselle insisted. “I knew you wouldn’t listen until I had something tangible to show you. But Dreamland isextraordinary. If you could only see it for yourselves?—”
“You lied about yourmagic?” her mother hissed.
“I—”
“Are you saying you possessarchitect abilities?” her father asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. Her cheek was beginning to throb harder now, the pain radiating outward across her face.
He took a step closer, his finger raised to point directly at her once more. “Know this, Mariselle. It matters not how wondrous Dreamland could be if you actually had the first notion of what to do with the power you haveliedto us about. What matters is that the Brightcrests will never,everundertake any venture that relies on cooperation with a Rowanwood.”
“But—”
“As for these abilities you’ve been hiding from us,” he continued, “we will find a way to put them to proper use. And this changes nothing regarding that detestable marking on your hand. Whether a soulbond or a contract mark, it will be removed two days hence.”
They moved toward the door. Her mother stepped out first, while her father paused and looked back. “The possession of dream architect magic is perhaps the singular aspect of your existence not entirely steeped in disappointment. It’s a shame you chose to reveal it to us this way. Nevertheless, we shall find a suitable purpose for it.”
The door closed behind them with a decisive click. Footsteps. Murmurs. Then the distinctive hum of enchantments being woven into the wood, the walls—spells to keep her trapped within.
Mariselle sat frozen on her bed, pain pulsing in steady waves from both her wrist and her cheek. The enormity of what had just occurred washed over her. She had revealed the truth about everything—and it had not mattered. It meant nothing to them.Shestill meant nothing to them.
Well, they seemed to prize the discovery of her dream architect abilities, but it was painfully clear they viewed the magic as deserving a worthier vessel than herself—as if even this extraordinary gift was somehow diminished byits connection to her. It was perhaps fortunate she hadn’t mentioned the various other abilities she’d manifested.
Mariselle squeezed her eyes shut, allowing tears to fall, and finally accepted that nothing she ever did would make a difference to her family.
With a shaking hand, she reached up to find the pegasus hairpin still nestled in her hair. It was likely only the intricate tangle of her curls that had kept the pin anchored in place as the wind had swept through her hair during Cobalt’s flight home—though the pegasus had flown unusually slowly, as if sensing his passenger wasn’t properly attired for his usual racing speeds.
She gently pulled the pin free from her hair, placed it on the palm of her marked hand, and wrapped her fingers loosely around it. And then, still in her wrinkled gown, she curled onto her side atop the bedcovers and wept until exhaustion finally claimed her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The dream was disjointedin a way that made Mariselle’s familiar twilight dreamscape waver like a mirage in desert heat. The waves crashed too loudly against the shore, then fell utterly silent before roaring again. The colors of twilight shifted unnaturally, bleeding from ink-dark purple to blinding silver in violent pulses, as though the very sky were a wounded thing gasping for breath.
Her parents’ words echoed in her mind.
You have utterly failed …
You have proven yourself untrustworthy …
… entirely steeped in disappointment.
The tears that had soaked her pillow in the waking world seemed to have followed her here, making the dreamscape blur and distort as she staggered toward the crashing waves and collapsed onto the sand. It had happened before, this intrusion of waking sorrow into her private sanctuary when her heart was too heavy with profound distress to allow peaceful slumber.
“You ran away from me.”
The voice behind her sent a jolt through her body. She turned to find Evryn standing there, a teasing smile playing on his lips, though a certain hesitation seemed to hold him back.
“Evryn,” she whispered, relief washing through her so strongly it made her dizzy. “You’re here.”
