Iris needed only a moment to consider the question. “No,” she replied, her voice steadier now. “It was the right decision. For both of us.”
The older woman nodded. “Then view this not as a catastrophe, but merely as another turning on the path leading to your truest self. As for your apprenticeship, I consider nothing to have changed whatsoever. In truth, if we are to seek a silver lining to these rather tumultuous clouds, your circumstances have provided us with an unexpected advantage.”
Iris looked up, brow furrowed in confusion. “Advantage?”
“Indeed. Without the Summer Solstice Ball to attend or wedding preparations to occupy your time, you are now free to devote your full attention to the tea house—and more specifically, to the gathering you were originally meant to host several weeks following the Summer Solstice Ball.”
“You still wish me to host that event?” Iris asked. “Even after all this?” She gestured vaguely, encompassing the scandal, her tears, the general disarray of her current situation.
Lady Rivenna’s expression turned stern, though a gleam of something almost like affection shone in her eyes. “Are you still my apprentice, Lady Iris?”
“Of course,” Iris answered without hesitation.
“Then I still intend to evaluate what you’ve learned thus far. And with all the recent scandal, my dear,” she added, leaning forward with a knowing smile as she patted Iris’s hand, “people will be all the more desperate for an invitation.”
Chapter Forty
Iris adjustedthe placement of a delicate paper flower at the center of one of the tables in the garden at The Charmed Leaf before stepping back to survey her work. Three weeks had passed since the gossip birds had torn her reputation to shreds with their shrill proclamations of her broken engagement. Two and a half weeks since the Summer Solstice Ball had come and gone without her in attendance. And four weeks—precisely twenty-nine days, though she tried not to count—since Jasvian had disappeared to the northern mines without so much as a farewell.
The gossip had begun to fade, thankfully. Where once ladies had gasped and turned pointedly away at her approach, now they merely exchanged meaningful glances before offering stiff, polite nods. Progress, of a sort. Lady Rivenna had been correct—society’s attention was indeed fickle, already shifting toward fresh scandals. The most recent involved Lord Emberdale being caught in the Featherlocks’ greenhouse at an unearthly hour, allegedly seeking a rare night-blooming specimen for his collection (though his state of undress had suggested alternative horticultural interests).
“The tables look lovely,” Charlotte said, appearing at Iris’s side.
“Do you think the arrangements are too much?” Iris asked, eyeing the paper blossoms that cascaded from delicate vases at each table’s center, their colors slowly cycling through pastels—blush to mint to periwinkle to primrose and back again.
“Not at all,” Charlotte assured her. “They’re perfect. And look at these!” She gestured toward the paper butterflies and pegasi that darted among the tree branches overhead. “You’ve truly outdone yourself, Iris.”
Iris smiled, grateful for her friend’s enthusiasm, even as anxiety fluttered in her chest. This afternoon’s event marked her first formal hosting duty at The Charmed Leaf, intended to showcase both her progress as Lady Rivenna’s apprentice and her unique magical talents. Preparing for it had consumed her completely these past weeks, a blessed distraction from both the lingering scandal and her continued thoughts of Jasvian.
Jasvian, who had not sent a single message since their rain-soaked encounter in this very garden. Jasvian, whose rare smile and storm-gray eyes had occupied far too many of her waking thoughts. Jasvian, whose warm touch and breathless confessions still haunted her dreams.
She shook her head slightly, banishing such thoughts. Today was not about him. It was about proving herself, about showcasing her magic, about pushing the boundaries of Bloomhaven’s rigid societal structures in her own quiet way.
“I should see if Lady Rivenna needs any assistance with the tea blends,” Iris said, smoothing her lilac gown—a new creation Charlotte’s mother had fashioned specifically for today’s event, with a sheer overlay across the bodice dotted with intricate white embroidery.
“She sent me to find you,” Charlotte replied. “Lucie said the first guests are expected to arrive in fifteen minutes.”
Iris nodded, taking a final look around the garden. Each table bore name cards crafted from creamy paper that would, when touched, transform into intricately folded teacups. These would later unfold to reveal personalized ‘fortunes’ for each attendee—carefully crafted messages that had taken her hours to compose while considering the many potential futures laid out for each of her guests. A feat of magic that had strained her abilities, but one she was proud of nonetheless.
“Come along, then,” Iris said, taking Charlotte’s arm. “We mustn’t keep Lady Rivenna waiting.”
They found the tea house matriarch in the kitchen, where she was instructing Lissian on the precise timing for each tea blend. Orrit hovered nearby, his tiny brownie form radiating unmistakable disapproval as he arranged his legendary scones on silver platters.
“Ah, Lady Iris,” Rivenna said, looking up. “The garden is prepared?”
“Yes, my lady. Everything is arranged as we discussed.”
Rivenna nodded. “Excellent. I trust you are prepared for some … resistance … to your guest list?”
“I am,” Iris affirmed, lifting her chin slightly. “Though I hope it will be minimal.”
A ghost of a smile touched Rivenna’s lips. “A lofty aspiration. I commend your optimism, though I suggest tempering your expectations. The inclusion of the Fields family alone would cause murmurs, but the Turners as well? Not to mention the two artisan families from Garnet Lane.”
“They are among the most genuinely good and decent people I’ve met in Bloomhaven,” Iris said firmly. “And soon the ‘elite’ will know it too. Society must change eventually. Why not begin today?”
“Indeed,” Rivenna agreed, something like approval flickering in her eyes.
Iris chose not to mention that she had briefly considered inviting the Brightcrests—who were notably excluded from all Rowanwood events due to the ongoing Rowanwood-Brightcrest family feud, the origins of which still remained a mystery to Iris—but had ultimately decided that even Lady Rivenna’s tolerance for dramatic social upheaval likely had its limits. She did not want to cause the woman to have a fit of apoplexy in her own tea garden.
