Page 60 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)

With a sharp intake of breath, Mariselle forced the memories away, pressing a fist to her brow. She couldn’t afford such distractions. Not now, when she needed to focus her efforts on the dream core. Not ever, since her parents had made it abundantly clear that she would never marry a Rowanwood.

She stifled the sob that rose in the back of her throat, threatening to choke her, as she placed the hand mirror on the large oak table and moved to the sideboard.

She opened the drawer she’d placed the contract into that first night.

Dreamland would never be hers, but she could at least finish it.

She could fulfill the terms of the contract and release both herself and Evryn from its magical obligations before her parents’ forced severance potentially damaged the delicate work they’d accomplished.

Then Evryn could steward Dreamland into its new era—she trusted his vision and his understanding of what the realm needed to flourish. He did not possess dream magic, but he could search the isles and find another dream architect to work with. The thought made tears well in her eyes again.

She blinked them away and raised the parchment to the light, her eyes moving methodically over each line, reminding herself of the exact requirements that must be met before the contract would consider their obligation fulfilled.

The heirs bound by this mark shall combine their magics to restore Dreamland to its former glory. She continued reading. The binding mark shall remain until such time as Dreamland stands ready to welcome visitors once more …

Well. That was somewhat vague. In its current state, Dreamland might already be considered prepared to welcome visitors.

She and Evryn had been inside. Did they not count?

She bit her lip and scanned the terms once more.

It was likely the wards, she decided. They needed to be properly completed.

After all, Dreamland could not be considered ‘ready’ if it was not entirely safe.

She crossed to the sitting area, kicked her slippers off, and sat on the rug.

Drawing her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes, she mentally reviewed what needed to be done.

She’d transferred the magic for multiple completed core scenes, but the transitions between them needed refinement.

The narrative structure Evryn had suggested remained only half-integrated.

And the wards, of course. The protective dream magic that hummed through her veins but still needed to be transferred via complex spells into the swirling patterns etched across the dream core’s surface.

The part that was the furthest from being complete.

Finish the scenes and narrative first , she told herself. Then return to the warding spells.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, shifted across the floor until she sat beside the dream core, and began. The work required absolute concentration, steady hands, and a clarity of vision that left no room for distraction.

Which was precisely what she needed—to lose herself in the work, to forget everything else.

Her father’s cold fury and her mother’s disappointment and the way Evryn looked at her with that teasing sparkle in his eyes.

To forget the throbbing pain in her wrist and the ghost of almost-kisses on her lips.

Time blurred as she worked, the cottage quiet save for the rustle of papers, the occasional scratch of her quill as she added to her notes, and her own measured breathing. The crystals embedded in the dream core pulsed brighter with each new addition, responding to her magic, absorbing her vision.

The effort drained her with each passing minute, a bone-deep weariness seeping into her limbs.

She had already poured so much of herself into this work over endless nights, her magic bleeding into the dream core until it sometimes felt as though parts of her essence lived within the crystals themselves.

Reality began to blur at the edges of her vision, wisps of half-formed dreams whispering enticingly to her, offering the sweet oblivion of sleep.

She blinked firmly, turning her wrist this way and that, allowing the sharp pain to clear the fog from her mind.

“Mariselle?”

She startled, her quill jerking across the page and leaving a jagged streak of ink, and looked up to find Evryn closing the front door behind him, loosening the collar of his riding jacket. His hair was windblown, his riding gear slightly disheveled, as though he’d come in haste.

“You’re here,” she said, relief flooding through her.

She couldn’t recall entirely why she’d requested he come.

He couldn’t help with the dream core’s magic, and she’d made it clear to herself that she could not afford to be distracted by any lingering romantic notions or dangerous seduction games between them.

No, she had simply … needed him. His steadying presence.

And now that he was here, all she wanted to do was fall into his arms.

Which could not happen.

“Of course I’m here.” He crossed the room toward her, concern evident in his eyes as they swept over her face.

“I would have come sooner, but Petunia’s message only reached me this evening.

I had thought, after last night … after the way you left …

that you might not want me here.” He crouched down, though he took care to keep a respectable amount of distance between them.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you with that silly game of?—”

“My parents know everything,” she interrupted.

He paused, eyes widening. “What?”

“They discovered my absence last night. They were … displeased.” She steadfastly avoided Evryn’s gaze as she continued. “I ended up telling them everything. About Dreamland, the contract, the false story regarding the so ulbond. I didn’t mention your manuscript, of course. Which reminds me …”

She rose and returned to the sideboard on the other side of the room, where she opened the drawer beside the one that housed the contract and removed the rumpled collection of pages that had been the catalyst for this entire endeavor.

“I should have returned this to you some time ago. I’m sorry.” She held the manuscript out to him.

After a moment, he slowly reached for it, a small frown pulling at his brow and his eyes seeming to focus somewhere beyond the pages, as though he’d barely registered what she was handing him. His eyes slid up to meet hers.

“Mariselle, what happened last night?” His gaze was too keen now, too searching, as though he’d already guessed more than she wished him to know.

She took a breath and focused on her hands.

The ribbon she’d tied around her wrist that morning was still there, though looser now.

She needed to redo it when Evryn wasn’t looking.

“As I said, my parents were … displeased to discover that I’d been out unchaperoned with …

with you.” She swallowed. “They have arranged to have the contract mark removed tomorrow. Someone with a ‘disjuncture’ manifestation, I believe it is. And they … they’ve confined me to my bedchamber. With enchantments.”

“What?”

“Though clearly I determined a way to sneak out, or I wouldn’t be here,” she continued, stepping past him and returning to the sitting area. He followed her.

“Mariselle, stop, please. Look at me.”

“I cannot stop , Evryn,” she insisted, something desperate in her voice now.

She turned to face him, though she still couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Tomorrow, the connection between the two of us and the contract will be prematurely severed. If we haven’t yet fulfilled the contract terms, what will happen?

Will all my work on the dream core be undone? ”

“I … don’t know.”

“Precisely! We do not know! And that is why I cannot stop. I must finish this. I must …”

The edges of her vision wavered briefly, a fleeting moment of lightheadedness that made her instinctively reach for the nearest armchair to steady herself. It passed, but not before Evryn noticed the subtle motion, his gaze missing nothing as he took a step closer.

“Mariselle—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted automatically.

“Your hands are shaking,” he said, concern deepening in his eyes.

“I am merely … agitated. Because I need to continue with my work, and you’re insisting I stop and … what? Talk?”

“I’m insisting you stop because you appear to have driven yourself beyond all reasonable limits. How much magic have you given the dream core tonight?”

“Not nearly enough,” she muttered.

“Mariselle, this is serious.” He advanced another few steps. “You need to slow down. However important you think Dreamland is, it’s not worth your?—”

“Of course you would say that!” she shouted, tears of frustration burning behind her eyes now, fear and desperation making her lash out.

“Of course you would have no notion of how important it is to me! You already have everything you could possibly want! A family that loves you unconditionally, writing that fulfills you, freedom to go wherever and do whatever!”

He was already shaking his head before she’d finished. “I don’t have everything,” he said quietly, his gaze holding hers. He moved until he stood right before her. “I don’t have you .”

His words pierced through her defenses and something deep within her broke open, releasing a flood of longing and grief and the impossible hope she’d held onto for so long. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head.

“Don’t say things like that,” she whispered shakily, swiping at her cheek with one hand. “You know it isn’t possible. It’s never been possible. Not with our families?—”

“My family likes you, Mariselle. We can?—”

“ My family will never allow it! Your family is wonderful and warm and I wish I could call them my own brothers and sisters. I wish I could …” She sucked in another shuddering breath. I wish I could have you , she wanted to say.

Instead she dragged the backs of her hands across her tear-streaked cheeks.

“This is all I have, Evryn,” she choked out on a sob.

“My magic. And even that my parents intend to harness for their own gain now that they’ve discovered what I can do.

Please just let me finish this. I need to finish this.

Before they take everything else from me. ”

Her words fell into an oddly strained silence, because Evryn had gone perfectly still, his gaze no longer holding hers, focused instead on something else on her face. “What is that?” he asked, his voice low with quietly restrained horror.

And Mariselle froze. Because she knew precisely what he had just seen.

“It’s—nothing,” she stammered, her hand rising to cover her cheek, where her tears must have dissolved the carefully applied cosmetics.

But Evryn’s gaze shifted again, widening with further horror as it landed on her wrist where the loose ribbon had slid aside, revealing the dark circle of bruises that marked the delicate skin beneath. “Mariselle?—”

“It’s nothing,” she repeated, firmer this time, lowering her hand and lifting her chin.

But Evryn’s bright, unyielding gaze caught hold of hers, and his voice held an intensity she had not heard before when he said, “What happened last night?”

Her pulse thundered in her ears and a strange rushing sound had begun to fill the corners of her mind. She blinked the odd sensation away. “Evryn, none of that is important now. I need you to help me …” She trailed off as the world blurred alarmingly at the edges again.

“Mariselle?” There was an unmistakable edge of fear in his voice now.

The cottage swam before her eyes, reality growing thin and permeable. Whispers called out to her, enticing and seductive, promising rest and escape. She felt cool sand beneath her feet, saw twilight-tinted waves crash over the large oak table.

Then the room tilted sharply.

She heard Evryn call her name, felt his arms around her, and then nothing at all as the dream realm claimed her.