“Well, I can confirm that he is indeed in town. I saw him myself at the marketplace this very morn.”
“And what, pray tell, would he be doing there?”
Amarind shrugged. “That’s no business of mine.”
“Are we going to get to the rest of those teacups now?” Lycilla asked. She leaned forward with anticipation, and Rivenna knew she was just as eager to decipher the fortunes of the young lords and ladies who would grace the Opening Ball in a few days’ time. After all, strategic meddling required foresight.
“Yes, the teacups are far more important at present,” Rivenna said, lifting another cup from its saucer.
“More important than the return of one of the most distinguished?—”
“I am yet to hear this news from anyone else,” Rivenna interrupted firmly. “Forgive me, Amarind, but I will confirm, as I always do, before we discuss this further.”
Rivenna’s gaze slid across the tea house’s main floor and landed on her private little alcove on the far side—a cozy space partially hidden from view by trailing plants, with a small round table and comfortable chair beside a window. Everyone believed it to be where she retreated to attend to the tea house’s accounts and administrative matters, a logical assumption that she had never bothered to correct. In reality, it was the perfect sanctuary for gathering the whispers and secrets the tea house absorbed throughout the day.
“But first,” she said, returning her attention to her two friends, “let us read.”
Rivenna divided up the teacups—four for each of them. Without a word, they lifted their first cups in perfect synchronization. Their left hands moved in graceful circles, swirling the remaining liquid three times counterclockwise. Then, as one, they upturned the cups onto their saucers. Three breaths passed before they righted the cups again. They repeatedthis ritual until all twelve vessels sat before them, wet leaves clinging to porcelain in patterns waiting to be deciphered.
The reading of the leaves became their focus, with all three women leaning in to examine the delicate patterns, murmuring interpretations and predictions and occasionally swapping teacups for a second opinion on something. The gentle clinking of china and murmur of conversations swirled around them, unheeded, as they attempted to unravel the leaves’ secrets.
Rivenna barely noticed the gentle chime of the door opening. The Charmed Leaf Tea House saw a constant stream of visitors on the first day of the season, after all. But then there appeared to be an odd dimming of the light that streamed through the windows, as if a cloud had slid across the sun. She lifted her gaze. No, it was the tea house itself causing the effect, making the usually clear glass take on a smoky tint.
Within moments, the usual chatter of the tea house had quieted to whispers. Rivenna turned toward the door, and?—
Lord Errisen Starspun. Even after nearly two decades, she recognized him instantly. Like most fae, he had aged gracefully, though he must be about forty years of age by now. Yet something had changed. As a young lord, there had been a certain exuberance about him, where now there appeared only weariness.
Well, well. Amarind had indeed been right. How vexing to admit that her friend had outmaneuvered her in acquiring this piece of gossip first. Usually, Rivenna prided herself on being the initial recipient of any truly significant news in Bloomhaven.
Lord Errisen stepped aside, revealing the woman who’d been standing just behind him in the doorway. He looped his arm through hers, and—Oh.Oh my.
Rivenna’s breath caught as all conversation in the tea house ceased entirely. Because the woman beside Lord Errisen washuman. Completely, unmistakably human.
“He … is that … is that hiswife?”
Lycilla’s horrified whisper reached Rivenna’s ears, but before Rivenna could answer, a young woman joined the couple in the doorway. She stumbled to a halt, as if she’d expected the three of them to keep moving and was taken by surprise when Lord Errisen reached out to catch her hand. Her lips parted to speak, but the words died on her tongue as she took in the silent tea house, every head turned in her direction, every pair of eyes fixed upon her.
“Oh. My. Stars,” Amarind whispered.
For the girl bore not only the elegant nose all Starspuns had inherited for generations but also the dark, almond-shaped eyes and creamy complexion of the woman on Lord Starspun’s arm. This was theirdaughter. A half-blood child of one of the oldest families in all the United Fae Isles.
In all her years of reading fortunes and mapping the intricate social web of Bloomhaven, Rivenna had never witnessed such a delicious disruption to the established order. She felt the tea house itself stir with curiosity, the vines along the walls reaching out just a little further, the floorboards creaking ever so slightly as they shifted to better observe the newcomers.
Rivenna remained perfectly still, watching the girl, seeing again in her mind’s eye the pattern of leaves she’d attempted to decipher, the meaning that had seemed so frustratingly vague. Yes, the leaves had whispered of change—but even they hadn’t prepared Rivenna for the storm that had just walked through her door.
Chapter Two
Iris Starspun had never seena building breathe before, but The Charmed Leaf Tea House seemed to inhale and exhale as she stepped inside. Delicate vines crept along the walls, occasionally reaching out to brush against patrons, flowers bloomed and faded along the wainscoting in rhythmic cycles, and the steam rising from teapots sitting on various tables around the room curled into momentary images before disappearing. The comforting aroma of baked goods and the earthy fragrance of exotic herbal teas created an atmosphere that felt both welcoming and magical. Under different circumstances, she might have found it delightful.
But circumstances being what they were—namely, that every fae eye in the establishment was fixed upon her family with varying degrees of horror and fascination—Iris found herself wishing the tea house was considerably less enchanting and considerably more prone to convenient sinkholes.
A young serving girl hurried past, an empty tray in her hands. Her perfectly round ears marked her as human, unlike Iris’s own slightly pointed ones—not nearly as elegant as the graceful points of true fae, but enough to broadcast her mixed heritage to anyone who looked. The girl stepped swiftly out of the wayas a fae woman in a pale green gown approached. The tea house’s hostess, presumably. She welcomed the Starspuns with a strained smile and gestured for them to follow her.
As they walked deeper into the tea house, Iris wondered if the morning heat had made her light-headed. The interior seemed to stretch and expand around the table they were heading toward, as if the very walls were breathing outward to make room. It must be a trick of the light, the abrupt shift from the bright Bloomhaven morning to the tea house’s interior. Or perhaps merely her imagination, heightened by the weight of a hundred stares. Yet even as they settled into their seats, a gentle brightening seemed to occur above them, like a faelight focused solely on their table.
Taking care to keep her chin up so as to appear unconcerned by the attention, Iris turned to her mother. “This is horrible,” she whispered. “Why are we here? We should have remained at Starspun House until the Opening Ball.”
Her mother forced a smile. “Your father thought it best to make our presence known early. Let the gossip run its course before the Opening Ball. Hopefully, by then, another scandal will have surfaced.”
