His grandmother’s expression remained maddeningly serene. “And yet here we are.”
“Here we are indeed,” Jasvian agreed, his frustration building. “With you having offered an apprenticeship—a position dozens of accomplished young fae have sought foryears—to someone whose magic couldn’t light a candle without assistance.”
“I see,” she said, rising from her chair. “I wasn’t aware that you had suddenly become an expert on The Charmed Leaf’s succession requirements. How marvelous that in addition to managing the lumyrite mines and overseeing our numerous estates, you’ve had time to master the tea house’s ancient magic as well.”
“That is not?—”
“Or perhaps,” she continued, her voice cutting through his protest, “you simply assume your title and bloodline grant you authority over matters that have never been your concern?”
Jasvian felt heat rise to his face. “My concerns are solely for the family’s standing in society.”
“How noble of you.” His grandmother moved to a shelf lined with various jars of honey, minutely adjusting their positions as she spoke. “And naturally, you believe yourself better positioned to judge what might affect our standing than I, who have maintained both the tea house and the Rowanwood social position for more decades than you’ve been alive.”
He forced himself to take another deep breath. Arguments with his grandmother invariably followed this pattern—her calm deflection and subtle redirection gradually leading him into verbal traps of his own making. “I apologize if I’ve overstepped,” he said, “but you cannot deny that this appointment is highly unusual.”
“The most significant decisions often are.” She turned to face him fully, her silver hair catching the faelight.
“In any case,” Jasvian said, raking a hand through his immaculately arranged hair, a gesture of frustration he immediately regretted, “the point remains that I cannot work under these conditions. If you insist on maintaining thisarrangement with Lady Iris, then I will be forced to return to working at Rowanwood House.”
“An excellent solution,” his grandmother agreed smoothly. “Though I was given to understand that your mother’s ballroom renovations have made concentration at home rather challenging.”
Jasvian’s jaw tightened. His mother had indeed commissioned extensive renovations to the ballroom directly beneath his study, filling the house with the constant cacophony of workmen, enchanted tools, and the occasional minor explosion. “The renovations are … disruptive,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Such a pity. So it seems you have three options.” Rivenna ticked them off on her fingers. “Work amidst the chaos at Rowanwood House, find another location entirely, or …” Her smile grew slightly wicked. “Learn to coexist peacefully with Lady Iris in the study upstairs.”
“Or you could reconsider your decision,” Jasvian pointed out, his voice tight.
“I could,” she agreed. “But I will not.”
Jasvian pressed his fingers to his temples, where a headache had begun to form. “I don’t understand your insistence on this particular candidate. Surely there are dozens of suitable young fae who would be honored?—”
“The tea house chose her,” Rivenna interrupted, her voice suddenly gaining an edge of steel. “And I agreed with its judgment. That is all you need to know.”
“The tea house cannotchooseanything,” Jasvian said, exasperation coloring his tone. “It is a building, Grandmother. A magically enhanced building, certainly, but still ultimately an inanimate structure. Everyone indulges the fancy that it has ‘a mind of its own,’ yet we all understand that it does not possess true sentience.”
His grandmother’s expression grew dangerously calm. “Is that what you believe, after all these years? That The Charmed Leaf is merely a clever enchantment? A trick designed to impress the gullible?” She shook her head slowly. “I had thought you more perceptive.”
“I understand that it responds to your magic,” Jasvian said. “That you’ve bound it to your will through decades of careful enchantment. But to claim it possesses independent judgment, that it canselectanything of its own accord?—”
“And yet it did precisely that,” Rivenna cut in. “From the moment Lady Iris stepped through the front door, the tea house recognized something in her that you, with all your esteemed magical sensitivity, have failed to perceive.”
“And what might that be?” Jasvian asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.
“Potential,” she said simply. “The kind that reshapes worlds, if given the chance to flourish.” She sighed, her expression softening slightly. “You see only what is before you, Jasvian. The tea house and I see what could be.”
A heavy silence fell between them. Jasvian struggled to formulate a response that wouldn’t sound petulant or dismissive, but found himself curiously unsettled by his grandmother’s words. What potential could Lady Iris possibly possess that he had failed to recognize? Her magic was rudimentary at best, her bloodline compromised. And yet …
He recalled the fierce intelligence in her eyes as she’d challenged him, both at the Opening Ball and again this morning in the study. The unwavering confidence with which she’d defended herself against his criticisms. Despite his initial dismissal of her abilities, there was something undeniably compelling about her refusal to be diminished.
“Your frustration is etched into every line of your face,” his grandmother observed, breaking the tense silence. “Perhapsyou might consider some additional fencing practice to work through these emotions that so clearly unsettle you.”
Jasvian’s frown deepened. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already scheduled the optimal number of fencing sessions into my weekly regimen, as well as the precisely calculated amount of swimming required to maintain peak physical condition.”
“Of course you have,” she sighed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “Heaven forbid your exercise routine should ever become as spontaneous as your temper.”
“I still maintain that this arrangement is ill-conceived,” he said, ignoring her jab. “Lady Iris and I are … incompatible. Our interactions invariably devolve into argument.”
“Perhaps that is precisely what you need,” his grandmother suggested. “Someone who challenges you, who refuses to be cowed by your pronouncements or intimidated by your position.”
