Page 25 of Tempests & Tea Leaves
As if to illustrate her point, a small group of garden pixies darted past, their gossamer wings catching the light as they carried armfuls of freshly cut blossoms, their tiny faces determined as they raced toward the kitchen door. The nearest gnome bellowed something unintelligible, his face reddening beneath his beard. The pixies merely giggled, accelerating as they disappeared inside with their floral treasures.
“I heard Lady Rivenna ask for more flowers for some of the table arrangements,” Lucie whispered, leaning a little closer, “but the gnomes are quite particular about where exactly the flowers are cut from. The pixies, however, pay no heed to their wishes.”
Iris suppressed a smile. “And does Lady Rivenna side with one or the other, or does she let them wage their little war unchecked?”
Lucie laughed. “Oh, she claims neutrality, but the gnomes grumble that the pixies get away with far too much under her watch.”
The two of them stood in companionable silence for another few moments, watching the gnomes and pixies at work. Then Lucie spoke, her voice soft and hesitant. “If you’ll permit me to say so, my lady … I am terribly sorry about those dreadful gossip birds and their awful squawking. It must be horrible, being new here and feeling like an outsider, only to have them spreading such unkind rumors.”
Iris’s throat tightened at the genuine sympathy in the girl’s voice. “Thank you. Though I suppose I should grow accustomed to it.”
“You should not have to.” Lucie’s usually cheerful face darkened. “Charlotte and I—Charlotte is my sister—have sworn we shall hunt down their keeper one day and put a stop to all this horrid rumor-mongering.”
“Their keeper?” Iris turned to her in surprise. “But aren’t they natural creatures that happen to live in the area?”
Lucie shook her head emphatically. “Oh no, my lady. They were created decades ago. Magical constructs, not proper birds at all. Abominations, if you ask me. Perhaps they no longer have a keeper, but if they do …” Her expression grew determined. “Well, Charlotte and I shall find this dreadful person eventually.”
“I had no idea.” Iris watched a garden sprite carefully measuring the distance between lavender plants with a tiny ruler. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Everything here seems designed to maintain social order through secrets and whispers.”
“It can be rather overwhelming,” Lucie agreed. “Especially when you’re …” she hesitated, then continued more quietly, “when you’re not quite what they consider proper society.”
Understanding passed between them. “Because you are human?” Iris asked gently.
Lucie nodded. “Yes. Like us, you understand what it means to be judged by what you lack rather than what you possess.”
“Indeed,” Iris murmured.
“I can learn some basic magic, of course,” Lucie continued. “Simple charms and everyday enchantments. But I will never have the natural ability of the fae.” She gestured to where a garden pixie was coaxing a reluctant rose to bloom. “Never be able to do anything quite so instinctive.”
“At least you know where you stand,” Iris said. “Being half-fae is like … like being caught between two worlds. Not quite belonging to either.”
“But you manifested,” Lucie pointed out. “That is something they cannot dismiss, no matter how much they might want to.”
Iris heaved a sigh. “True. Though a certain brooding person of great importance seems determined to do precisely that.”
“Ah.” Lucie’s lips twitched. “You speak of Lord Jasvian Rowanwood, I imagine? Indeed, he can be rather … overbearing in his opinions. Though his younger brothers and sisters are much pleasanter company.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “He may fancy himself the arbiter of all society’s opinions, but I assure you, he doesn’t speak for everyone. The rest of Bloomhaven’s elite will have to acknowledge you now. Not only have you manifested, but you are Lady Rivenna’s chosen apprentice.”
“That’s another thing that continues to surprise me,” Iris commented. “I wouldn’t have thought an apprenticeship a position the nobility would covet.”
Lucie’s eyes widened. “Oh, but you cannot imagine! To be the next proprietress of The Charmed Leaf? Why, half of Bloomhaven’s most distinguished families would trade their finest pegasi for such an opportunity. Even those who pretendto look down on commerce would give anything to hold such a position.”
Iris thought of the morning’s whispered revelations, the secrets carried on vine-wrapped breezes. Having witnessed only a fraction of the tea house’s abilities this morning, Iris could well understand its allure. The tea house’s exact magic might remain a mystery to most, none could deny the power held by its mistress.
“Though of course,” Lucie continued, her expression growing thoughtful, “it takes someone rather special to manage it all properly. Which is why Lady Rivenna is so particular about …” She trailed off, clearly searching for the right words.
“About what?”
“About seeing people for who they truly are, I suppose. She is not like the rest of them, you know. She sees beyond all their silly rules about proper bloodlines and natural ability. She gave me a chance here when no other fine establishment that serves the elite of Bloomhaven would consider hiring a human girl, and she has never once made me feel lesser for it.” She smoothed her apron. “She trusts me. Values my work. Gives me the opportunity to stay late sometimes and experiment in the kitchen. It means everything to me.”
Iris studied the young serving girl with new appreciation. “She seems to have excellent judgment.”
“Oh, she does.” Lucie’s smile returned. “And she choseyouas her apprentice. That must mean something rather significant, don’t you think?”
Before Iris could respond, a voice called from beyond the willowbloom. “Lucie? Are you out here? I wanted to ask if you still plan to—oh!” A young woman emerged from beneath a flowered archway, her dark brown hair caught up in a practical knot. She wore a simple dress—quite different fromthe elaborate silks favored by Bloomhaven’s elite—but carried herself with quiet dignity.
“Oh! Lady Iris, this is my sister Charlotte,” Lucie said, and indeed, Iris could see the resemblance now. “The very one I was just speaking of—my partner in the great gossip bird investigation.”
“Plotting our detective work without me again, Lucie?” Charlotte grinned, though her expression grew somewhat guarded as it shifted back to Iris. “Good day, my lady.”
