Page 64 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)

Chapter Thirty

Mariselle watched as Rivenna moved toward the window seat, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, while her own grandmother settled on the edge of the sofa, arms crossed defensively over her chest. The tension between them was almost tangible, a delicate spiderweb stretching across the room, decades of hurt and anger woven into its threads.

Mariselle looked at Evryn, her heart suddenly pounding oddly in her chest. He inclined his head toward the armchairs, and she moved to sit beside him.

“Where do we begin?” Rivenna asked quietly.

“With Seravine,” Nirella replied, her voice sharp with old pain. “It all began with her.”

“Sera,” Mariselle murmured. “The teacup labels,” she added in a whisper to Evryn. He nodded.

“Lady Seravine Bluebell,” Rivenna said without turning from the window.

“She was a childhood friend of mine. The Bloom Season had just begun and I … I invited her to Bloomhaven. Her first Season here.” Her shoulders sagged slightly, and there was something in that small gesture that spoke of decades of guilt.

“Krenshaw and your Great-Uncle Thaelan had built Dreamland into something magnificent,” Nirella continued, nodding at Evryn when she mentioned Thaelan.

“It all began in this little cottage, and even though it had grown into so much more, we still met here regularly. Krenshaw and I, Rivenna and Valenrik—newly married—and Thaelan. We were close.”

“And then … Seravine,” Rivenna sighed. She turned away from the window and joined them in the sitting area, settling into a seat across from Nirella.

“Thaelan was immediately captivated by her,” Nirella continued. “Do you remember how he would craft tiny lumyrite sculptures of whatever caught her eye during their walks?”

Rivenna nodded, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips before it disappeared.

Mariselle’s mind immediately conjured an image of the tiny lumyrite pegasus Evryn had fashioned for her.

The realization that he had unknowingly echoed his great-uncle’s romantic gesture sent a strange shiver through her, as though their present was somehow echoing the past.

“He courted her earnestly,” Nirella continued. “Showed her all of Dreamland’s wonders. He was so hopeful. But Krenshaw … my husband …”

Mariselle watched as her grandmother bit her lip, a sheen of tears forming across her eyes. The sight was so foreign, so utterly at odds with the composed, formidable figure Mariselle knew, that she felt momentarily unmoored.

“Krenshaw and Nirella were married,” Rivenna continued, her tone careful, as if she were treading on glass that might splinter. “They had two children. From the outside their life appeared perfect. But …”

Rivenna trailed off, her eyes on Nirella, and it seemed to Mariselle that she was giving Nirella the space to continue. This was her part of the story, after all. Nirella inhaled deeply before continuing. “Our marriage had grown distant,” she said stiffly, “and Seravine began a dangerous game.”

Mariselle felt her heart begin to race faster. She could sense where this was leading, and it filled her with dread.

“She encouraged Thaelan’s affections while secretly … pursuing Krenshaw.”

“She manipulated them both,” Rivenna said, bitterness evident in her tone. “Using their friendship against them.”

Evryn leaned forward. “What happened?”

“Thaelan discovered them,” Nirella said simply. “He followed Seravine one evening and witnessed … an intimate exchange between her and Krenshaw in a private corner of Dreamland.”

Mariselle’s breath caught. “Oh.”

“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.”

“ You encouraged 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 directed even 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, she mastered 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 had everything —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!”

“ I made it impossible? Your family was the first to start spreading rumors about the entire incident that were entirely untrue.”

“My—” Rivenna looked outraged. “It was the Brightcrests who 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.