Once her folded note had vanished through the kitchen door, she began running her fingers over the silver measuring spoons, arranging and rearranging them as she waited for his reply.
Perhaps for some. For me, surrendering to the unexpected inevitably leads to disaster. When you are responsible for hundreds of lives, a single unpredictable moment, one unexpected variable outside your control, can result in catastrophic consequences.
His words carried a weight she hadn’t anticipated, hinting at responsibilities she’d never fully considered. What might it be like to know that if one’s magic did not fulfill its intended purpose at precisely the right moment, it could result in actual loss of life? The burden of such responsibility must be crushing. She was beginning to understand why Jasvian clungso desperately to order and control, but still she felt the need to steer the conversation in a somewhat lighter direction.
I recognize that in your line of work, this is true. But surely not all unexpected developments are catastrophic.She hesitated, took a breath, then added:Even your grandmother’s decision to take on a half-blood apprentice might qualify as such an unexpected development, don’t you think? And surely that is not catastrophic?
She sent the note, wondering if she’d foolishly given him the opportunity to revive his earlier prejudices or unleash a fresh barrage of condescending opinions about her unsuitability for the position. More time than usual passed without a reply, and she found herself growing increasingly anxious as she hunted around the kitchen in search of a box in which to place all the samples of her experimental blends.
Finally, just as she found something suitable, Lord Jasvian’s response arrived:
I admit my initial assessment of the situation may have been … somewhat hasty. The tea house has its own wisdom, as my grandmother often reminds me. Perhaps it saw something in you that merited consideration beyond conventional expectations.
The notebook, which had maintained a dignified silence since the page-tearing incident, apparently decided that this exchange was too significant to ignore. Its elegant script appeared beneath Jasvian’s message:
Is that … an apology? Mark the calendar for this historic occasion.
Iris stared at the words, genuinely surprised. It wasn’t quite an apology, but from Lord Jasvian Rowanwood, it felt remarkably close. She wrote:
Thank you. I find myself similarly reconsidering certain hasty judgments. Perhaps we’ve both been too quick to assigneach other to neatly labeled categories that leave no room for nuance or growth.
As she watched the paper envelope depart, she heard Lady Rivenna’s voice echoing from the main tea house, accompanied by the sounds of other staff arriving. The day was properly beginning now, and with it, the likelihood of interruption.
Lord Jasvian’s response appeared quickly, as if he too sensed their time drawing to a close:
A fair observation. Though I maintain that your desk, like your half of the kitchen worktable, is still offensively disorganized.
The notebook commented:And there is the Lord Jasvian we know. Order has been restored to the universe.
Ignoring the fact that her half of the table was now infinitely tidier than when Lord Jasvian had glimpsed it earlier, Iris laughed softly and wrote:
And I maintain that your ledgers would benefit from occasional disorder. But perhaps we can agree to disagree on matters of organization while finding common ground elsewhere.
She sent the note, then carefully transferred all her labeled vials into the small box she’d found. By the time she was done, Lord Jasvian’s reply had appeared in the notebook:
An acceptable compromise. I must attend to the day’s business now. Good day, Lady Iris.
And beneath it, the notebook had added:
Well, well. Progress, it seems, is indeed possible. Even for the terminally stuffy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Can you imagine it?An entire ballroom full of people who have no idea who they’re dancing with,” Lucie said from her position at one end of the kitchen’s long worktable, her gaze directed at the used teacup she was currently labelling with magic. The enchantment was a simple one Lady Rivenna had apparently taught her. Part of Lucie’s daily duties involved collecting used teacups from unsuspecting patrons so that Lady Rivenna and her companions could perform their ritual examination of the tea leaves left behind.
This practice stirred the same unease in Iris as the vines’ gossip-gathering—a subtle intrusion into private matters without consent. When Iris had voiced these concerns, Lady Rivenna merely dismissed them with elegant confidence, explaining that Lady Whispermist and Lady Thornhart possessed such meager divination skills that they rarely discerned anything of consequence. As for Rivenna herself, she considered herself above reproach—a trusted custodian of the secrets the leaves revealed, as though her superior judgment made the invasion perfectly acceptable.
“Lady Whispermist told Lady Rivenna that last year she danced three consecutive dances with her own husband without realizing it!” Lucie added with a giggle.
“Can you imagine finding yourself attracted to the person you’re dancing with and then discovering it’s a sister or brother or cousin?” Charlotte said. On a brief break from assisting at her mother’s dressmaking shop, she sat at the other end of the worktable next to Iris. “How horrifying!”
The scent of freshly steeped tea and warm pastries mingled in the air as The Charmed Leaf’s kitchen bustled, hearth sprites keeping the ovens at a constant, steady glow and kitchen brownies scrubbing countertops while Mama Saffron kneaded dough for spiced honey rolls in the middle of the worktable and Lissian silently prepared a variety of blends at the brewing station. Orrit had already disappeared, his daily quota of scones completed. If the tea house happened to run out now, it was simply too bad. All the more reason for patrons to return another day.
“Is it really true that no one can recognize anyone else?” Iris asked, looking up from the hefty tome splayed open before her:The Proprietor’s Comprehensive Guide to Magical Establishment Management.Lady Rivenna had instructed her to begin studying the dry accounting principles and inventory systems that would one day be her responsibility when she took over The Charmed Leaf. The pages of dense text and complex calculations gave Iris a newfound sympathy for Lord Jasvian and his constant battle with ledgers.
“Absolutely true,” Charlotte nodded emphatically. “The enchanted masks hide all distinguishing features. Transform your voice, alter your height slightly, adjust the color of your attire, and even change your scent. The magic doesn’t justdisguiseyou, it weaves an illusion so complete that even your closest friends walk right past you.”
The Rowanwood Masquerade Ball was, by all accounts, one of the most anticipated events of the Bloom Season. Held annually at Rowanwood House, its enchantments and transformations were legendary. Enchanted masks were apparently presented on arrival, each one unique, and Iris had heard that the moment a mask touched a person’s face, the magic flowed through that person, completely concealing their identity until midnight when the enchantment dissolved.
