Page 52 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)

Chapter Twenty- Two

Laughter rose above the hum of conversation filling The Charmed Leaf Tea House the following night, warm and uninhibited in a way that sparked something in Evryn’s chest. His gaze settled on the source: Kazrian, Aurelise and Rosavyn on the other side of the table, and Mariselle, sitting beside him.

Kazrian was currently recounting some tale that appeared to require dramatic hand gestures, while Rosavyn—who had managed to maintain her cold attitude toward Mariselle for approximately three minutes before giving in to laughter—leaned forward occasionally to embellish on the details of the tale, and Aurelise kept dissolving into giggles.

It had been a last-minute decision this morning to extend an invitation to Mariselle for his grandmother’s tea leaf reading, an annual event at which Lady Rivenna performed a somewhat theatrical divination of tea leaves for an intimate gathering of select company.

When Mariselle had first arrived, stepping gracefully through the doorway in a gown several shades darker than her still very blue hair, their eyes had met across the crowded tea house.

In that singular moment, something intangible yet profound had passed between them—a silent acknowledgment of boundaries crossed during their shared dream the night before.

But then she’d joined his family at their table, and the moment had dissolved, leaving them to resume their elaborate performance as a soulbonded couple and the subject of Bloomhaven gossip.

The evening’s entertainment had proceeded, with his grandmother presenting each guest with a specially prepared teacup before guiding them through the precise ritual of tea leaf reading.

She’d moved from person to person with dramatic flourish, examining the patterns left behind and pronouncing fortunes with grand certainty.

The room had filled with laughter and delight throughout the performance, everyone understanding it was merely elegant entertainment.

The enchanted cups, designed to reveal distinctive patterns, were all part of the orchestrated spectacle.

His grandmother had navigated the room like a queen in her court, utterly in her element and visibly relishing every moment, while pointedly ignoring the presence of a Brightcrest in her hallowed tea house.

Evryn had to admit that he’d barely paid attention to the evening’s theatrics.

His mind had been elsewhere, drifting between the unexpected warmth he felt seeing his younger siblings accept Mariselle into their circle, and the persistent memories of the previous night, when he had somehow found himself inside Mariselle’s dream.

Dream sharing.

The term had surfaced in his mind the moment she’d explained what was happening. He’d heard her brother Alaryn Brightcrest mention it once, describing it as some sort of intimate joining of minds, possible when at least one of a pair of people possessed any sort of dream-related magic.

Indeed, Evryn had felt a connection to her unlike anything he’d experienced before.

The walls between them had fallen away, and he’d wanted nothing more than to lay bare his very soul to her.

She had revealed parts of herself, too—the real Mariselle beneath the cold Brightcrest exterior.

There had been something genuine between them, a connection that had felt profound and real.

But now, in the jarring lucidity of the waking world, doubt crept in.

How much of that connection had been real, and how much had been the effect of dream sharing itself?

Perhaps the intimacy he’d felt was merely the nature of the experience, nothing more.

The thought left an unexpected hollow feeling in his chest.

Across the table, his mother leaned in to contribute to the animated conversation between Kazrian, Rosavyn and Aurelise, her eyes alight with merriment.

Jasvian, seated on Evryn’s other side, remained apart from their lively exchange, though his face was notably free of its habitual stern expression.

Like Evryn, he seemed content merely to observe the proceedings with quiet interest.

Throughout the evening, Evryn had not failed to notice how his brother occasionally lifted his gaze to seek out Iris—who was attending their grandmother this evening—until his eyes landed on her.

The two had already exchanged multiple soft glances and secret smiles.

There was a time when Evryn might have regarded such sentiments with inward derision, but now …

Well. Now he found himself possessed of altogether different feelings on the matter.

Evryn turned, intending to draw his brother into conversation, only to start slightly upon discovering that Jasvian had been regarding him with a thoughtful expression.

“Your affection for her is real,” Jasvian said.

Evryn blinked, taken aback by this sudden declaration.

“For Lady Mariselle,” Jasvian confirmed, as if there might be someone else present whom Evryn had so-called ‘real affection’ for. Evryn was about to protest before remembering that he was supposed to be maintaining the pretense of utter adoration for her.

Mariselle chose that moment to turn her head in their direction, perhaps because she’d heard her name. She smiled, a brief question in her gaze, before returning her attention to the other side of the table.

Jasvian gestured with his head toward a quieter corner of the main floor, near the stairs that led to the tea house’s upper level. “Walk with me?”

Evryn hesitated for a moment, wondering if perhaps he should remain with Mariselle, but she appeared perfectly at ease in the company of his family. He nodded, and the two of them stood.

“They seem to be getting along rather well,” Jasvian said as they crossed the room, apparently having had the same thought Evryn had just had.

“Much to Grandmother’s chagrin, I’m sure,” Evryn replied.

A small laugh escaped Jasvian. “She’ll survive the shock.”

“Will she?” Evryn asked, his tone light though the question was in earnest. “I have my doubts.”

“I believe she will. Lady Mariselle is … not exactly what any of us be lieved her to be. I suspect even Grandmother might soften given some time in her presence.”

But therein lay the difficulty—getting Grandmother to remain in Mariselle’s presence for longer than it took to execute a dismissive sniff.

They reached the corner and came to a stop.

“I confess I’m rather surprised myself by the way this has all turned out,” Jasvian said.

“When you first announced your supposed magical binding to Mariselle Brightcrest, something felt distinctly … off. As though you were performing a role rather than experiencing it. It was as if you were trying to convince yourself of the connection as much as you were trying to persuade us.”

“Oh, but I do give such a convincing performance,” Evryn said, automatically conjuring his usual armor of theatrical charm. “You should’ve seen the reviews. There was rapturous applause and one particularly enthusiastic pigeon threw a flower.”

Jasvian regarded him with exasperation. “Evryn. Is it impossible for you to engage sincerely when the conversation turns to something of actual significance? This is your future we’re speaking of. Your happiness.”

Evryn spread his arms and gave an exaggerated bow. “Do I not look the very picture of happiness? Positively radiant, if I do say so myself.”

Jasvian stepped a little closer, his eyes narrowing. Not in irritation, but in quiet scrutiny. The kind that made Evryn feel, uncomfortably, as though he were being read like one of his own manuscripts.

“Yes,” Jasvian said softly. “That’s what I mean. You do look like the picture of happiness. Because of a Brightcrest. Which—frankly—borders on unbelievable.”

Evryn’s smile dimmed. He inhaled slowly and took a step back, lowering himself to sit on one of the worn steps that led up to the study, elbows resting on his knees. He stared at the floorboards for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

He wished he could speak the truth. He wished he could explain that this was all an act, that Jasvian has never had anything to worry about, that it would soon be over. And he wished he could somehow express the deeper truth that lay beneath the facade—that he might not want it to be over.

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.”