“The betrayal destroyed him,” Rivenna said quietly. “Rik and I both watched it happen. Not just Seravine’s duplicity, but the violation of trust from his closest friend. Thaelan and Krenshaw had been so close—best friends, business partners.”
“There was a confrontation,” Nirella continued, “one evening when the six of us ended up in a private space inside Dreamland together. Thaelan confronted Krenshaw with what he had discovered. They argued—violently. Seravine tried to intervene, to explain away what Thaelan had seen, but her words only made everything worse.”
“They fought,” Mariselle said quietly, understanding beginning to dawn.
“With magic,” Lady Nirella confirmed. “Within the dream space itself. It was … catastrophic.” Her voice shook slightly. “Krenshaw used magic that was only meant to incapacitate, but instead it created a rift that pulled Thaelan into the raw dream realm.”
“It killed him instantly,” Rivenna whispered. Her gaze lifted and settled on Nirella with cold finality. “Krenshaw Brightcrest killed Thaelan Rowanwood.”
“It was an accident!” Nirella cried, emotion thick in her voice. “And he tried to save Thaelan! He tried to pull him back but only succeeded in partially pulling himself into the dream realm instead.”
Mariselle raised a shaking hand to her lips. “Is that … is that how Grandfather ended up trapped in slumber? And that’s … that’s what truly caused Dreamland’s magic to fail?”
Her grandmother nodded, her gaze still fixed on Lady Rivenna. “And none of it would have happened if Seravine Bluebell had never been invited to Bloomhaven.”
“Youencouraged the duel that night!” Rivenna hissed.
“I did not! And if I had—what of it? Everything had already spun wildly out of control by then!”
“Stop,” Evryn said, his voice cutting through their rising anger. “Let me understand this clearly,” he continued. “This decades-long feud, this poison that has infected both our families for generations, stems from a tragic accident involving a woman who isn’t even present. Have either of you directedeven a fraction of this animosity toward the person who actually stood at the center of this conflict?”
The answer hung in the silence that followed, as clear and damning as if they had spoken it aloud. Decades of blame had flowed between these two women, yet none had been reserved for the one who had sparked the tragedy.
“She left,” Rivenna finally said. “The very next day. Without a word to any of us.”
“You could have supported each other through your grief,” Mariselle said quietly, “instead of distancing yourselves from each other.”
“If there was any distancing to be done,shemastered the art of it,” Rivenna said, directing a tilt of her head toward Mariselle’s grandmother.
“How dare you suggest I withdrew without cause!” Nirella exclaimed, her voice rising with decades of pent-up anguish. “You hadeverything—your husband, your tea house, your standing in society, which only continued to grow! While I was left with nothing but ruins and a husband lost to the dream realm!”
“But … why did that keep you from coming to me?” Rivenna asked, brows pulling together. “I wanted to reach out to you. You were the one who made it all but impossible!”
“Imade it impossible?Your familywas the first to start spreading rumors about the entire incident that were entirely untrue.”
“My—” Rivenna looked outraged. “It was theBrightcrestswho first?—”
“Please!” Mariselle interrupted, loudly enough to be heard over the two of them. “You have already missed out on more than fifty years’ worth of friendship. If you were truly once friends, if you truly both wished to bridge the gap that began to grow between you after this tragedy, then perhaps now is the time to stop fighting.”
The two grandmothers fell silent, their gazes locked across the space between them. Something shifted in that shared look—a softening around the edges where decades of rigid animosity had calcified. Nirella’s chin trembled almost imperceptibly, while Rivenna's fingers twisted together in her lap. Neither spoke, but tears gathered in both their eyes as they watched each other.
There was recognition in that silence, a mutual acknowledgment that beneath the layers of hurt and blame, something of their former connection remained. Weathered and scarred, but not entirely destroyed.
“Perhaps, Rella,” Rivenna said quietly, “your granddaughter is right. Perhaps it is time we stop passing down our pain.”
Nirella took in a shuddering breath before nodding slowly. “Perhaps it is time to let our grandchildren build something better than what we destroyed. And perhaps … perhaps it is time to admit that I have missed you.”
A soft, tremulous inhale broke the quiet, and Mariselle watched in astonishment as a single tear traced its way down Rivenna’s cheek. She was convinced this was the only room in all the United Fae Isles to ever have witnessed such vulnerability from the indomitable woman.
And then, in a moment that would have sent shockwaves through all of Bloomhaven society and caused an epidemic of disoriented gossip birds to plummet from the sky in collective astonishment, Rivenna Rowanwood and Nirella Brightcrest rose from their seats, crossed the small space between them, and embraced.
Mariselle and Evryn embraced too, of course, which was followed by both grandmothers clearing their throats in perfect unison and informing them with renewed authority that while certain ancient grudges might be laid to rest, propriety certainly had not been.
Lady Nirella added pointedly that she expected to see at least a full arm’s length of space between them at all times until proper vows had been exchanged. At that, Mariselle had pressed her lips together to suppress her smile and taken an exaggeratedly large side-step away from Evryn, who promptly measured the distance with his hand as if to verify its adequacy.
And then, before anyone could enjoy the moment too much, the Brightcrests had arrived.
Evryn had been at the door the instant they realized exactly who was approaching the cottage—thanks to Mariselle’s mother shrieking her name while she and Lord Brightcrest were still some distance from the building. But Mariselle had caught Evryn’s arm and given him a pleading look, stopping him before he could charge outside and do something ridiculously heroic like challenge her father to a duel (though there was a part of Mariselle that would have enjoyed witnessing this; Evryn, undoubtedly, would have won).
