Page 43 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)

She laughed, spun around again, and sashayed back to Evryn’s side with a mischievous twist to her lips.

“Terribly theatrical, isn’t it?” she said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“My mother would suffer an immediate apoplexy if she saw me prancing about in such attire. Can you imagine? She’d probably lock me in my chambers for a month.

No, this little performance is purely for my own amusement.

And yours, I suppose,” she added with another lilting laugh, seemingly unaware of the effect her current appearance was having on him.

She twirled once more, her figure briefly enveloped in a ripple of iridescent light. When the shimmer faded, her carnival attire had vanished, replaced by her familiar riding gear, the startling blue braid once again tumbling carelessly over one shoulder.

And at that moment, watching her manipulate her own appearance, her words struck him again: This is what I chose to build tonight. Suddenly he realized what should have been obvious from the start: “You’re an architect. A dream architect.”

“Of course,” she said, looking around. “How else did you think I planned to accomplish something like this?”

“I …” He bit back the admission that he had never truly believed she could accomplish anything of substance. It had become suddenly and dramatically clear how wrong he’d been. “Why didn’t you tell me? ”

She shrugged. “You didn’t seem interested. And I suppose I assumed you would guess. None of this would be possible otherwise.”

“But your debut … this isn’t what you presented. Your display was …”

She arched a brow. “Weak? Uninteresting?”

“To be honest, yes. I don’t understand why your family would hide an ability so … impressive.”

A shadow flickered across her features, and she glanced away without answering. Evryn’s eyes widened with realization. “Wait. Your family is unaware as well?”

She nodded. “Only Petunia knows.”

“Why?”

Mariselle turned away slightly, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the air that left faint luminescent trails.

“It’s a rare manifestation. A valuable manifestation.

And in my family, valuable things tend to become …

assets. Managed. Directed. Rarely by the one to whom they belong.

I suppose I wanted the chance to shape it myself first—to prove I could.

To have something that was mine before they decided what it ought to be.

Perhaps then, I might have some say in the direction of my future. ”

Evryn watched her quietly, turning her words over in his mind, each one revealing more than she perhaps intended, and yet still not quite enough.

They both looked up as a magnificent flower-shaped hot air balloon drifted overhead, its gossamer silk panels shimmering with pastel hues.

Each petal displayed a living scene—children riding silver foxes, airborne dancers, and teacups floating on candyfloss waves.

Music spiraled down around them as the enormous bloom began to open, its petals peeling back in elegant succession to reveal inner layers of light and glittering particles.

With a luminous flourish, the flower fully unfurled, scattering stardust-like petals across the sky in a breathtaking display of color and light.

Mariselle’s laughter filled the air again.

“Isn’t it truly spectacular?” She grasped his hand and squeezed, then let go, seemingly without noticing what she’d done.

“Come, I want to show you more.” She stepped away, and Evryn stared at his open hand, half expecting to see some trace of the warmth she’d left behind.

He found himself following her, drawn by her evident delight in this world of her creation.

She moved with the confident grace of someone in their natural element, occasionally gesturing to bring new wonders into being— a shower of glittering stars that fell around them before transforming into tiny singing birds, a bridge made of rainbow light that arched over a stream of flowing silver.

“We can actually do this,” he said faintly, reaching out to touch one of the crystal blooms. It chimed more loudly at his touch, and the galaxy within spun faster. “Dreamland can be real again.”

Her smile contained a trace of bemusement this time. “Of course we can. I never doubted it.”

“But—wait. How are we—is the dream core not still sitting in Windsong Cottage?”

“No, I moved it back to its original position at the center of the pavilion.”

He stopped. “On your own?”

“Indeed, on my own. With magic. It was heavy, yes—as were you, I’ll have you know—but I managed.” She placed her hands on her hips, both brows arching. “I happen to be capable of a great many things, Rowanwood.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to realize that,” he answered quietly

As they wandered deeper into the dreamscape, Evryn’s gaze was drawn upward to where the impossible sky gave way to shifting clouds. Dark shapes moved there, undulating and coalescing like shadows of ink dropped in water.

“What might those be?” he asked, gesturing toward the roiling shadows.

Mariselle followed his gaze. “Oh. Nightmare entities, I imagine.”

“Nightmare entities?” He repeated, his tone carrying distinctly more alarm than hers.

“There’s no need to be concerned about them. I’ve constructed simple protective boundaries for now. While I’ve yet to perfect the art of weaving wards complex enough to permanently protect Dreamland, these modest defenses should keep such entities at bay during our brief visit.”

He turned back to her. “I recall you mentioning wards while working on the dream core with your cousin. Is this a skill related to your dream architect abilities?”

“No. Dream warding constitutes its own distinct magic. You may have heard of this type of ability in relation to the production of Dream-Bright Elixir? It’s an essential part of keeping nightmares at bay.”

“Ah.” Evryn had, of course, never paid the slightest attention to what might be contained within Dream-Bright Elixir. He angled his head then. “So you’ve manifested two distinct magical abilities?”

“I …” She trailed off, her expression becoming guarded, gaze drifting away from his scrutiny.

“Wait.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice despite there being no one else to hear them. “More than two?”

A playful smile curved her lips as she met his eyes again. “Do you suppose I shall reveal all my secrets to you in a single night, Rowanwood?” The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to mask the very real wall she’d erected between them.

“You’re already privy to my greatest secret,” he reminded her. “I could hardly share any of yours without risking you divulging mine in return.”

Her expression shifted, caution giving way to consideration. “That is indeed true. Perhaps I shall consider sharing them.” She glanced over her shoulder, her smile fading. “But for the present …”

The light dimmed perceptibly, as though a cloud had drifted across an unseen sun.

Evryn followed her gaze and noticed with growing unease that the shadowy shapes appeared darker and somehow …

closer. The music that had surrounded them since their arrival took on a discordant note, the once-pleasant melody twisting into something vaguely unsettling.

“I believe it would be best for us to return to the waking world,” Mariselle said. “I can’t say how long my simple wards might hold.”

“Indeed,” Evryn said, then looked around at the vast dreamscape stretching in all directions. “Did you build an exit into this fantastical realm?”

“If Dreamland were operating with all magical systems properly integrated and functioning, then yes, there would be an exit, and a dream guide with threshold magic—someone like Petunia—would be stationed there to escort you out. But in the absence of that particular magic, you must be asleep in order to cross the boundary between the dream realm and the waking world.”

Evryn let out a humorless laugh. “I do hope you’ve brought additional portions of that tea you drugged me with. I find it difficult to imagine falling asleep naturally with shadows known as nightmare entities circling above.”

Mariselle gave him a smile that was somehow both apologetic and amused. “The process is actually far simpler than that.”

“What do you mean? ”

“I can simply …” She hesitated, meeting his eyes. “Induce a state of slumber.”

Evryn stared at her. “And it did not occur to you to employ this method at the cottage instead of brewing tea laced with a sleeping draught?”

“Well,” she said, giving him a pointed sort of look, “I did not imagine you would willingly permit me to touch you.”

Her words echoed with unintended weight, and Evryn was aware of a flush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat. “In that case, yes, I suppose the sleeping draught made more sense.”

“But now there is no other way, so …” She lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged before reaching tentatively toward him, the patterns on her hand glimmering faintly. “May I?”

Evryn hesitated, then sat across from her and took her hand.

The contact was innocent enough, but the markings seemed to pulse with warmth where they aligned, as though recognizing each other.

Evryn felt a peculiar tingling sensation spreading up his arm, across his chest, and finally enveloping his mind in a gentle, insistent fog.

“Is this another dream-magic related ability?” he managed to ask, his words already beginning to slur as his eyelids grew heavy.

She gave a small nod. “Indeed it is. My father’s cousin possesses this particular type of magic.” She hesitated, then added, “It appears I’ve manifested quite the collection of dream-related abilities.”

The world began to blur around the edges, colors bleeding into one another, the music fading to a distant hum. Evryn felt himself swaying.

“You have proven,” he murmured as darkness began to claim the edges of his vision, “to be entirely unlike what I had always presumed to know about you.”

And then he tumbled into the depths of sleep.