Page 54 of Tempests & Tea Leaves
As they approached a corner where two footmen stood chatting, Rosavyn made a subtle gesture with her left hand. Iris felt a whisper of magic brush past her, and the footmen’s gazes slid over them without interest, their conversation continuing uninterrupted.
“Was that—” Iris began.
“Just a little redirection,” Rosavyn explained with a grin. “I’ve always had a knack for making people look elsewhere when I don’t wish to be seen. I half wonder if, when I eventually do manifest my specific magic, it will be the ability to turn completely invisible.”
They continued through the servants’ quarters, down a flight of narrow stairs, and finally out a side door into the cool night air. Rosavyn led her around the edge of the property, keeping to the shadows cast by ornamental shrubs, until they reached the lane where carriages waited to collect departing guests.
“Perfect timing,” Rosavyn whispered as a gleaming carriage pulled up, its enchanted framework glowing softly in the darkness.
Before the footmen could approach, Rosavyn made another subtle gesture. Their eyes glazed slightly as the young women slipped past and into the waiting carriage. Rosavyn turned to Iris. “Where should I tell the carriage to?—”
“The Charmed Leaf Tea House,” Iris blurted without thinking.
The carriage glided forward smoothly. Iris tugged her gloves off—darned things were so constricting—leaned her head back against the cushioned interior of the carriage, and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Even with her eyes closed, the disorienting visions hadn’t fully receded. Images of Rosavyn continued to overlap one another, one with her hair elegantly coiled atop her head, another with loose curls cascading down her shoulders, and in one brief, startling flash, Rosavyn appeared to be leaning inappropriately close to a shadowed figure Iris couldn’t quite?—
“Are you quite all right?” Rosavyn asked gently, interrupting the visions. “What happened back there?”
“I …” Iris sighed, her eyes still closed. “I do not want to repeat it.”
Rosavyn remained thankfully quiet, seemingly content to respect Iris’s reluctance without pressing for details.
The carriage wound through Bloomhaven’s streets, but Iris kept her eyes closed, trying to ignore the odd images her imagination kept presenting her with. Before long, the carriage slowed to a stop, and Iris opened her eyes to see The Charmed Leaf outside the window. In the moonlight, the tea house looked different. Still and mysterious, the leaves of its vine-covered facade barely moving.
The carriage door swung open of its own accord and Rosavyn gestured for Iris to disembark first. With her gloves clutched loosely in one hand, Iris climbed out onto the cobblestone path. She approached the door of the tea house as a curious warmth spread across her right palm. She looked down and?—
“Oh!” she breathed. For there on her skin was the shimmering copper outline of a key, its handle delicately shaped like a leaf.
“Goodness,” Rosavyn whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. “You have a key just like Grandmother’s.”
“It appears I do,” Iris replied, equally surprised. Until this moment, she hadn’t considered how she might enter the tea house, which would surely be locked at this late hour.
“It makes sense, of course,” Rosavyn continued, “with you being the apprentice. But somehow I hadn’t realized … I suppose if I’d thought about it, I would have assumed Grandmother would wait longer before granting you such direct access.”
If Iris had thought about it, she would have assumed the same.
Tentatively, she lifted her hand and pressed it to the door. The lock clicked and the door swung open immediately. “Incredible,” Iris murmured, stepping into the darkenedinterior. Unlike during daylight hours, when sunlight streamed through the windows and the air hummed with conversation, the tea house at night had a hushed, expectant quality, as if perhaps it was dreaming of tomorrow’s bustle.
Several of the faelights embedded amidst the foliage in the ceiling stirred to life as they entered, casting a gentle glow over the empty tables. The vines that decorated the walls rustled ever so slightly, like someone stirring in their sleep.
Iris took a deep breath. For the first time since the confrontation in the maze, she felt her breathing ease, the tightness in her chest beginning to unravel. There was something about this place that felt strangely like home. And yet she knew beyond a doubt that she did not belong here.
Half-breed. Interloper. Novelty.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s caused you such distress?” Rosavyn asked gently from behind her.
“Rosavyn, I …” Iris shook her head, still unable to look at her friend. “I am not worthy of the position your grandmother has given me.”
“And what, precisely,” demanded a loud voice, “gives you the authority to decide whether you are worthy or not?”
Both girls whirled around, startled to find Lady Rivenna standing in the doorway. She stepped fully into the tea house, the faelights brightening slightly in her presence.
“Grandmother!” Rosavyn exclaimed, one hand flying to her throat. “How did you?—”
“Know you’d slipped away? I saw you both leave the Thornharts’ gathering. It was simple enough to follow.” Rivenna’s gaze moved between them, sharp and assessing. “Did you truly think I was unaware of all the times you escaped Lady Thornhart’s house only to reappear hours later as if nothing was amiss?”
“I—”
“I do not miss things, my dear. Now run along and take that enchanted carriage you ‘borrowed’ back to the Thornharts. Lady Iris and I have much to discuss.”
