Page 34 of Tempests & Tea Leaves
She crushed a mint leaf between her fingers and inhaled before pulling another blank sheet of paper in front of her. She had somehow managed to misplace the beautiful leather-bound notebook Lady Rivenna had gifted her and so was forced to write her observations on loose sheets that had somehow formed a chaotic array across her workspace. She breathed in the scent of the mint leaf again before returning her quill to the page and murmuring, “Refreshing. Cool. Slightly sweet with?—”
The door creaked open behind her.
Iris lifted her quill and looked over her shoulder. Lord Jasvian Rowanwood stood in the doorway, his expression darkening visibly when he spotted her. His appearance was immaculate, of course. Not a hair out of place, coat perfectly pressed.
“You’re here. Already.” His voice carried the warmth of a midwinter frost.
“Good morning to you as well, Lord Rowanwood. Yes, I am indeed here.”
He removed his coat and hung it with measured precision on the wooden stand by the door. “I had hoped for a few hours of peace before having to share the space.”
Iris turned back to the page in front of her, projecting an air of composed serenity. “Then perhaps you should have arrived earlier,” Iris suggested. “I’ve been here for nearly an hour.”
Heaving a frustrated sigh, Lord Jasvian crossed the room behind her. She watched from the corner of her eye as he pulled the chair out from behind his desk. The moment he settled into his seat, piles of documents materialized on his previously empty surface—account ledgers, correspondence, and meticulously organized stacks of papers, each one perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk.
“I see the enchantment works as intended,” Iris observed, looking up.
“Indeed. Some of us appreciate a system that ensures nothing is out of place.” His gaze lingered pointedly on the tea ingredients scattered across her desk.
“How fortunate that we’re each permitted our preferred approaches,” she replied sweetly. “You with your precise orderliness, and I with my … what was the term you used at the Opening Ball? Ah yes, ‘paper-folding nonsense.’”
Jasvian’s jaw tightened. “I thought we had agreed to maintain civility.”
“Had we? I must have missed that conversation amidst all your disapproving glares.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose, clearly striving for composure. “I see no reason why we cannot share this space amicably if we each focus on our respective tasks.”
“Precisely my intention,” Iris said, reaching for another jar and inadvertently knocking over a small vial. Golden pollen spilled across her notes. “Oh, blast it all.”
“Perhaps if you organized your materials in some logical sequence?—”
“Perhaps if you concerned yourself with your own affairs,” Iris cut in, brushing the pollen into a neat pile. She took a breath and focused intently on directing a wisp of her magic to scoop up the pollen and return it to its vial. Iris felt a quiet thrill of satisfaction at this small success. She secured the stopper,savoring the moment before Lord Jasvian could find something to criticize.
At his desk, he lifted the topmost ledger from the pile of documents and placed it neatly in front of him before opening it. “I would appreciate some quiet while I work, if you can manage it.”
“I’ll try not to breathe too loudly while sampling aromatic herbs.”
“I’m sure the effort would strain your capabilities,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
“About as much as basic courtesy appears to strain yours,” she replied in a similar tone.
For several minutes, they worked in strained silence. Iris continued her methodical sampling, though she found herself increasingly distracted by the scratching of Lord Jasvian’s quill and the almost inaudible whisper of magic he used to blot each line before continuing to the next. Everything about him radiated control and precision.
It was, Iris decided, utterly maddening.
She reached for another sheet of paper, accidentally brushing several loose herb stems off the edge of her desk and onto the floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Jasvian’s hand freeze mid-sentence, his gaze fixed on the fallen foliage.
Iris lifted her gaze from the floor and met his head-on, arching a single brow in silent challenge. His eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, his stare unwavering. And in that moment, something Iris couldn’t identify prickled all the way up her spine.
Then, as if shaken loose by the weight of his stare, a thought struck her. She frowned. “Is it not considered improper that we’re alone in here together?”
He blinked and returned his gaze to the page in front of him. Lowering his quill to the paper once more, he said, “In this tea house, Lady Starspun, one is never alone.”
Iris looked around more closely and realized that despite the quiet, this was indeed true. There were several hearth sprites nestled in the unlit fireplace, their tiny forms glowing faintly as they dozed. A kitchen pixie who must have snuck in unnoticed after Lord Jasvian opened the door was arranging fresh flowers in the vase on the small corner table, and a flutter of movement on the bookshelf brought Iris’s attention to the small creature that had just darted behind the largest volume.
“How comforting,” she said. “Our mutual animosity has an audience.”
“I’m certain they find it as tedious as I do,” Jasvian replied, returning to his calculations.
