His smile faltered slightly. “What did you say?” His voice sounded distant, as though he were speaking from underwater.
“I said—” But the dreamscape rippled violently, the beach beneath them seeming to dissolve for a moment before reforming. When it stabilized, Evryn stood a few paces closer, his playful expression replaced with concern.
“Mariselle? What’s wrong?” He reached for her, took her hand, pulled her to her feet—but the world tilted, and when it righted itself once more, there was distance between them again.
“My parents,” she began, the words feeling thick in her throat. “They discovered—” The sound disappeared from her own ears, though her lips continued moving. She could see confusion spreading across Evryn’s features.
“I can’t hear you,” he said, frustration evident in his voice. “Something’s different tonight.”
The edges of the dreamscape shimmered and blurred, the ocean fading to translucence before solidifying once more. Evryn’s form flickered like a candle flame in a breeze.
“You’re upset,” he said, moving toward her once more. “I’m so sorry, Mariselle. What happened in the cottage earlier … if I’d known it would make you so upset, I would never have?—”
She shook her head vigorously, hoping to make him understand, even if he couldn’t hear her words. “It’s not that. It’s not you. It’s my parents. They—” She tried to explain, but the sound seemed to be swallowed by the very air around them. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. “They know everything, and now they’ve locked me away,” she managed, though she couldn’t tell if the words reached him.
Evryn’s expression grew more troubled as he watched her lips move. He stepped closer, only to have the dreamscape fragment around them, sending him further from her when it reformed.
Mariselle wrapped her arms around herself as her tears fell faster, the salt-sting of them a cruel mockery of her beloved ocean. Even her sanctuary had betrayed her now, fracturing into pieces that reflected her shattered state, leaving her adrift and more utterly alone than she had ever felt before. She sobbed, and the stars above winked in and out of existence. The waves froze mid-crash before surging forward again.
Evryn moved toward her with careful, deliberate steps, as though walking on ice that might crack beneath him. He reached out, touched her shoulder, and she felt the warmth of his hand through the fabric of her sleeve.
This time, the dream did not fragment.
He pulled her gently into his arms, one hand pressed firmly against her back while the other cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he guided her tear-streaked face to rest against his shoulder. The contact sent a shudder of relief through her entire body.
She sensed him saying something, murmuring against her hair, but his words disappeared into the wind that gusted one moment and fell utterly still the next. She pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. The dreamscape around them steadied slightly, the violent shifts slowing to a gentler undulation.
After what could have been moments or hours, he pulled back slightly to look at her face. “Remove your slippers,” he said, his voice surprisingly clear.
“What?”
He gestured toward her feet, which she realized were still clad in delicate evening slippers. “You told me you like to dance barefoot in the sand.”
Something within her longed to smile, but the night’s wounds were still too fresh. She slipped her feet free, feeling the cool sand beneath them, grounding her. The dreamscape steadied further.
Evryn’s hands found her waist, drawing her close again. Her head rested against his shoulder. He began to move, a slow, gentle sway that bore no resemblance to the structured dances of ballrooms. If anything, it was more an embrace set in motion than a dance, but she followed his lead, feeling her heartbeat gradually slow to match the rhythm of their movement.
The cool sand shifted between her toes with each step, while the ocean’s gentle hush created a soothing cadence that matched their unhurried movements. The stars above regained their brilliance. The cottage solidified completely.
“Are you all right?” Evryn’s voice was quiet but not distant.
She nodded, her cheek brushing against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. The dreamscape’s newfound peace felt too fragile to disturb with louder words, and her spirit—though steadying beneath his touch—remained like a bird with crumpled wings, needing stillness to heal.
“You asked me before,” he said quietly, “what I dream of.” He paused,drawing back slightly so he could look down into her eyes. The world around them held perfectly still, as if the dream was holding its breath. “I dream of this.”
His hands rose to cup her face, his thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. Then he leaned forward and brought his mouth to?—
Mariselle blinked awake, a gasp in her throat and the phantom touch of an almost-kiss on her lips.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Mariselle pacedthe perimeter of her bedchamber. Seven steps along the wall with the window. Turn. Twelve steps past her wardrobe. Turn. Seven steps toward the dressing screen. She stopped and forced herself to take a steadying breath, eyes closed for a moment. It had been barely a day, and already she felt as though she may lose her mind.
She paused at the window once more, pressing her fingertips against the pane. The enchantments her father had woven hummed against her skin, an unpleasant vibration.
She turned away, continuing her circuit. As she passed the vanity, she caught sight of the small silver hand mirror and wondered if Evryn had received the message Petunia had sent him this morning.
Her cousin had been nearly frantic with worry after their abruptly terminated conversation the night before. They’d spoken as soon as they were both awake that morning. Well, after Mariselle had stared at the canopy above her bed for a not insignificant amount of time, replaying the sensation ofalmosthaving been dream-kissed. She had then told herself that it was the least of her concerns at that moment, and had reached for the hand mirror.
