Page 11 of Love & Letter Charms
“Your tea, dear,” Lady Nirella said to Aurelise, gliding into the room carrying a small silver tray, which she placed on the small side table between the armchairs. “Oh, Mariselle, dearest, you are here! You’ve become quite the phantom these past days, flitting about Dreamland and leaving your poor grandmother to wonder if you still remember her face.”
“You can hardly blame me for that, Grandmother,” Mariselle said, stepping past Rosavyn. “I feel as though I’ve made at least a dozen last-minute adjustments to the dream core in just the past half hour.”
“Is Jasvian coming tonight?” Evryn asked, turning to his mother while straightening his cravat.
Lady Lelianna shook her head. “No, dear. He wanted to stay home with Iris.”
A flicker of disappointment crossed Evryn’s face. “Ah, I was hoping he might want to attend.”
Mariselle swatted her husband’s arm. “Of course Jasvian is staying with Iris. If it were me, I would expect you to be nowhere else except by my side.”
Evryn’s expression melted into something tender and devoted as he leaned toward his wife, clearly forgetting their audience. “That is precisely where I will be, darling.” Before his lips could reach hers, something small struck his cheek. He jerked back, hand flying to the spot as indignation replaced romance. Aurelise’s gaze followed the tiny object as it dropped to the floor and rolled to a halt. A dice.
“Kazrian!” Evryn bellowed, glaring across the room where his younger brother had already ducked behind Lady Rivenna’s stately form.
“For goodness’ sake,” Lady Rivenna muttered, not bothering to step aside as Kazrian crouched behind her skirts, his laughter barely contained. “I would have thought you both might have outgrown using me as your battlement by now.”
It was then that Mariselle caught sight of Aurelise standing in the bedroom doorway. “Oh, Aurelise! You are simply radiant!”
Another wave of nervous energy washed over Aurelise like a cold tide. “Thank you,” she breathed, hoping the tremor in her voice wasn’t noticeable to anyone else.
But Mariselle knew her well by now. She crossed the room and gently took one of her hands. Aurelise realized she was still clutching the gloves in her other hand, the delicate fabric surely acquiring creases that would earn her mother’s dismay and require yet another round of pressing spells.
Mariselle leaned in closer, her voice dropping slightly. “I added a pink bow to the sky, just for you. It’s one of the cloud formations I’ve enchanted to take shape once the magical demonstrations begin. When you stand before the High Ladyand your courage wavers, look for that bow in the dream-sky. It’s my promise that you’re not alone, even when you feel as if the whole world’s gaze is upon you.”
Aurelise nodded, pressing her lips together as she fought against the tightness in her throat. She could do this. It was just one night. One singular, nerve-wracking night. Tomorrow she could return to her comfortable position at the edges of ballrooms, watching rather than being watched. Or perhaps, she thought with a flutter in her chest as she recalled R’s letter, she might even attempt some ridiculous conversation about opinionated roses.
“Darling,” Evryn said, appearing at Mariselle’s side and touching her arm. “I believe we should go. The High Lady will be arriving any minute now.”
With a final squeeze of Aurelise’s hand, Mariselle turned away.
“Perhaps the rest of us might join you in a few minutes?” Aurelise suggested, desperately grasping for any excuse to delay the inevitable. “My tea?—”
“There’s no time for that now,” Lady Lelianna interjected, her voice bright with poorly disguised relief. “Come, dear, put your gloves on. We cannot keep the High Lady waiting.”
The family began to move as one toward the cottage door, a flurry of final adjustments and chatter filling the air. Lady Lelianna fussed over Kazrian’s waistcoat buttons, which had been fastened in the wrong sequence, while Lady Rivenna issued crisp instructions to Aurelise and Rosavyn’s maids about tidying the cottage and taking the waiting carriage back to Rowanwood House.
With a final wistful look at the abandoned cup of serenity blend still steaming invitingly on its tray, Aurelise followed.
Chapter Two
A short distanceaway from Windsong Cottage, Dreamland rose from the earth like the last blush of sunset caught and woven into silk, its vast tented pavilion shimmering. Its walls arched high into peaks and curves, the fabric shifting fluidly between rose pink and burnished gold with each wandering breeze, as if the whole creation inhaled and exhaled on some unseen breath. Along every seam and edge, veins of rose-gold lumyrite pulsed with a slow, hypnotic rhythm, tracing the structure in radiant lines that suggested a beating heart beneath its surface.
Months ago, Aurelise had glimpsed the original drawings of the tent—all midnight blues and twilight purples, a vision plucked straight from slumbering minds. But when the High Lady sent word to Evryn and Mariselle informing them of her intention to host the Season’s Opening Ball within Dreamland’s enchanted walls, the palette had transformed in her honor.
Now its splendor mirrored Solstice Hall’s regal warmth, the golden-hour glow that had graced royal celebrations for generations. Mariselle planned to return Dreamland to its dreamy nightscape once the Season concluded, but secretly,Aurelise found herself captivated by this incarnation, drawn as she’d always been to the gentleness of soft pinks and rose hues.
But as beautiful as the magnificent structure was, she couldn’t keep her composure from cracking a little more with each step she took toward it. Her throat constricted as though invisible hands tightened around it, each swallow becoming a deliberate act she could no longer perform naturally. Inside her gloves, her palms grew damp, and she resisted the urge to tug at the fine fabric, knowing it would only draw attention to her discomfort. The music that lived perpetually within her threatened to spill out, a discordant symphony of anxiety she fought desperately to contain.
The crowd pressed closer around the Rowanwood and Brightcrest families—both assembled close to Dreamland’s main entrance—as more carriages arrived, depositing their elegantly dressed occupants onto a long crimson-rose carpet. It stretched from the grand archway right up to the gold-veined marble platform upon which Dreamland sat. Excited chatter filled the air, punctuated by gasps of wonder as newcomers caught their first glimpse of the magical pavilion. The crush of bodies, the rustling of countless silk gowns, the overwhelming mixture of perfumes—it all pressed against Aurelise like a physical weight.
Her chest tightened further. She tried again to swallow.
Without thinking, she stepped closer to Kazrian, her shoulder brushing against his arm. He must have sensed her distress, for his hand found hers immediately, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You’re ready,” he whispered, not looking at her but keeping his gaze fixed on the pavilion ahead.
“I’m not.” The words barely escaped her constricted throat.
