Page 8 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)
“Has anyone seen Rosavyn?” Evryn asked, feeling rather like a condemned man hoping to expedite his own execution before he lost his nerve entirely.
“Evryn, darling,” his mother said, reaching his side and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“How mysterious of you to summon us all. Does this have something to do with your disappearance from the ball last night? In case you thought I hadn’t noticed,” she added with a raised eyebrow, her attempt at maternal disapproval undermined by the fond warmth that always softened her gaze when looking at any of her children.
“If you don’t mind, Mother, I’d rather share my news just once,” Evryn said, glancing anxiously at the front door again. “I thought Rosavyn would be with you.”
“Oh, she was.” Lady Lelianna turned back toward the door. “I wonder where she?— ”
“And what about Jasvian? He’s usually?—”
“Share what news?” came Jasvian’s voice, though not from the front entrance as Evryn had expected. He turned to find his older brother descending the staircase from the tea house’s upper study, looking every bit as composed and serious as ever.
Of course Jasvian would already be here, probably since dawn, being industrious and responsible as always.
The man practically exuded duty from his pores.
The upper study had been his sanctuary until their grandmother had forced him to share it with her new apprentice the previous Season.
If Evryn recalled correctly, that enforced proximity was how Jasvian and Iris had begun their unlikely romance.
His brother scowling over ledgers while Iris carefully documented tea leaf readings or whatever it was apprentices did.
How very Jasvian to turn shared workspace into matrimony.
As if prompted by Evryn’s thoughts, Iris hurried into the main room of the tea house from the direction of the kitchen, tucking stray wisps of hair behind one ear and clutching a notebook beneath her arm.
Her presence was still sometimes surprising to Evryn—this half-human woman who had captured first his grandmother’s attention and then his serious brother’s heart.
“Forgive me,” she said, directing a sheepish smile in Evryn’s direction as she stopped at Jasvian’s side.
“I know you said this was important. I was making a few notes—” she waved the notebook before placing it on the nearest table “—and lost track of time.”
“Oh, that’s—quite all right.” Evryn couldn’t help but feel a flicker of kinship with Iris in that moment.
He understood all too well how words could capture one’s attention so completely that time itself seemed to bend around the page.
Though in his case, the compulsion to write usually struck in the darkest hours of night rather than with the morning sun.
The front door swung open once more, and Rosavyn strode in.
“Apologies for my tardiness,” she said, dusting what appeared to be dirt off the front of her skirt.
“I saw Lucie on the side path trying to wrangle a pair of garden pixies who were engaged in mortal combat over a single hyacinth. I thought I should help. You wouldn’t think such tiny creatures could be so—Oh.
Why do you all look so serious?” She paused as she glanced around at the assembled family. “Has someone died?”
“Not yet,” Evryn muttered under his breath .
“Rosavyn, dear, do sit down,” Lady Lelianna said, taking a seat and patting the empty chair beside her. “Your brother has news to share.”
“News?” Rosavyn’s eyes widened with interest as she slipped into the seat. “Is it scandalous? Please tell me it’s scandalous. The ball was dreadfully dull last night after you left.”
“Rosavyn!” their mother admonished.
“Oh I can’t wait until I’m allowed to attend the Opening Ball,” Aurelise said wistfully. “Please can I go next year, Mother? Even if I haven’t manifested yet? Rosavyn first attended when she was eighteen, and she hadn’t yet …”
Her voice trailed off as she no doubt realized what she’d said. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the group as everyone except Evryn studiously avoided looking at Rosavyn, whose expression had frozen into careful neutrality.
“Well,” Evryn began, deciding that if he was going to detonate a family crisis, this awkward moment was as good a time as any to light the fuse, especially if it would spare his favorite sibling further discomfort.
“I’ve gathered you all here because I have an announcement of … significant personal import.”
“Oh, for stars’ sake,” Lady Rivenna said, setting down her half-eaten scone. “Out with it, boy. Some of us have establishments to run.”
Evryn straightened his shoulders. “Very well.” He swallowed. “I am to be married.”
His mother’s expression transformed instantly into one of delighted surprise. “Married? Oh, Evryn! To whom? Do we know her family? When did this happen?”
“ How did this happen?” Jasvian asked with a frown. “Were you caught in a compromising position? Please tell me you haven’t created yet another scandal requiring hasty resolution. The Season has barely begun.”
“Well, this is rather boring,” Rosavyn said, slumping a little in her chair. “And here I thought you’d done something truly outrageous. Marriage is perfectly respectable. Disappointing, really.”
“Oh, nonsense,” their mother scolded. “Do ignore her, Evryn dear. Now tell us. Who is this young lady?”
Evryn’s throat felt remarkably dry. He took a deep breath, savoring what would likely be the last peaceful moment in this room for some time to come. “The young lady in question,” he began, then paused, steeling himself for his family’s inevitable outrage, “is Mariselle Brightcrest.”
The silence that followed was so profound that even the sounds from the kitchen seemed to fade.
Lady Rivenna, who had been raising her scone for another bite, froze mid-motion.
The scone slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor with a dull thud, her hand remaining suspended in the air as though her body had forgotten how to complete the motion.
Evryn’s mother released a pained gasp, pressing her hand to her chest.
“Mariselle Brightcrest?” Iris repeated, seemingly the only one among them whose vocal cords hadn’t been paralyzed by shock.
“Yes,” Evryn confirmed, his voice sounding oddly hoarse.
Iris’s head snapped toward Lady Rivenna, and Evryn watched as his grandmother’s sharp eyes immediately found Iris’s face. They exchanged a look so loaded with meaning that Evryn wished desperately he could interpret it.
But before he could open his mouth to question this strange look, his grandmother’s hard gaze swept back to him. “No,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. “You’ll see me buried before that happens.”
More likely I’ll be the one in the ground , Evryn thought grimly. It wouldn’t surprise him if Mariselle was indeed the death of him before this charade concluded.
“A Brightcrest?” Jasvian’s voice had dropped to a horrified whisper. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”
“I assure you, I am perfectly sound of mind,” Evryn replied with as much dignity as he could muster.
“You will not marry a Brightcrest,” his grandmother said.
“I’m afraid it’s not exactly a matter of choice, Grandmother,” Evryn answered as calmly as possible, extending his right arm to display the silvery mark that curled around his hand and wrist. “We appear to have formed a soulbond.”
Another sound escaped his mother, this one a pained whimper that she quickly stifled behind trembling fingers.
“It, ah, appeared quite unexpectedly,” Evryn continued, pushing his sleeve up to reveal the rest of the mark, “while the two of us were arguing on one of the terraces outside the ballroom at Solstice Hall last night. ”
“No,” Lady Rivenna repeated. “What absolute nonsense. I refuse to acknowledge it.”
The notebook Iris had placed on one of the tables somehow slipped off the edge and landed on the floor with a loud slap. She retrieved it hastily and tucked it beneath her arm after directing a furious whisper at … the notebook itself?
Evryn shook his head before returning his gaze to Lady Rivenna. “Grandmother, you cannot will this out of?—”
“I said no.”
“Evryn.” Rosavyn leaned forward, her expression uncharacteristically grave as she searched his face.
“You cannot possibly go through with this. I admit I delight in the occasional impropriety, but even I must protest. Have you forgotten how Mariselle and her sister treated Iris last Season? We cannot permit a Brightcrest to infiltrate our family circle.”
“I … yes, I am aware of what happened.” In all honesty, Evryn retained only the haziest recollection of some incident in a garden maze that Rosavyn had recounted with theatrical indignation while he’d nodded at appropriate intervals, his mind wandering to other matters.
“Lady Mariselle feels truly dreadful about it.” He had no doubt that Mariselle possessed not a single crumb of remorse over whatever had transpired, but she would need to manufacture a convincing apology if they had any hope of maintaining this farce.
“Perhaps the soulbond can be broken?” Lady Lelianna suggested, her voice thin with desperate optimism. “Or simply refused?”
“I have no desire to break the bond,” Evryn declared, surprising himself with how convincing he sounded. “I know it defies all logic and reason, but I have feelings for her.”
Rosavyn physically shuddered. It was taking every ounce of Evryn’s self-control not to mirror the gesture with twice the intensity.
“Feelings?” Lady Rivenna repeated in a tone that suggested Evryn had just announced he’d developed an affinity for eating garden soil.
“You most certainly do not. You have been ensnared by a cheaply constructed spell straight from the pages of nonsense fiction peddled to impressionable young ladies. This ‘soulbond’ is nothing but magical trickery designed to manipulate your emotions. We shall see to it that this enchantment is undone as soon as possible. ”