“How was the first day of the season, Grandmother?” Rosavyn asked. “The Charmed Leaf must have been positively overflowing.”
“As chaotic as one might expect, though the day went remarkably well overall—aside from a stray hearth sprite escaping the kitchen. Things are winding down now, and my staff have everything well in control. I’ve read enough tea leaves for one day.”
Rosavyn snorted. “You’re still doing that, Grandmother?”
“One doesn’t abandon a skill honed over decades simply because the younger generation finds it quaint, my dear.”
“I do wish I could have come along,” Aurelise said from her position near the window, her quiet voice carrying a note of wistfulness.
“Aurelise, dear, there’s no need to look so forlorn,” her mother said gently. “You’re certainly welcome to visit the tea house on appropriate occasions, with proper accompaniment.”
“On the quiet days, you mean,” Aurelise replied with a sigh. “Never at the start of the season when all the interesting gossip is flowing.”
“Trust me, my dear, the gossip flows regardless of the day,” Rivenna said. “Though today was particularly interesting, I must admit.”
Jasvian studied his grandmother. Her tea house was an impressive creation, unlike anything else in Bloomhaven. Well, there was Dreamland, but that hadn’t been in operation for at least fifty years. The Rowanwood-Brightcrest feud had seen to that. But The Charmed Leaf was unique—sentient architecture combined with his grandmother’s formidable magical abilities and social acumen had created a nexus of influence that extended throughout fae society.
“Speaking of the tea house,” he said, setting down his glass, “have you made any progress in finding an apprentice yet? You won’t live forever, Grandmother, much as we all might wish it.”
Rivenna’s eyebrow arched delicately. “On the contrary, I rather hoped I would.”
“The tea house needs a successor,” Jasvian pressed. “Someone who can learn its ways, someone you can pass your knowledge to.”
“And you believe you’re qualified to determine when and how I should select this mysterious successor?” Rivenna asked, her voice dangerously pleasant.
Jasvian held her gaze. “I believe in preparation and foresight. Qualities you yourself instilled in me.”
On his other side, his mother coughed delicately. “Foresight for others,” she said in a low voice to her embroidery, “but never for his own well-being, apparently.”
“How unfortunate that I did such an excellent job,” Rivenna remarked. “Now I must endure lectures from my own grandson.”
“Grandmother—”
“When the tea house is ready for a new guardian, it will make its wishes known,” she interrupted firmly. “Until then, I shall continue managing perfectly well on my own, thank you.”
Jasvian suppressed a sigh. His grandmother had been making the same declaration for years, deflecting all suggestions with the enigmatic claim that “the tea house chooses.” As if a building, however magical, could select its own proprietor.
“And what of you, Jasvian?” his grandmother continued, a dangerous gleam entering her eye. “Have you given any thought to finding a wife this season? As you know, my dear friend Lycilla Whispermist has a granddaughter debuting this year who?—”
“I have neither the time nor the inclination for courtship,” Jasvian cut in sharply. “My responsibilities to the family and the mines consume my attention entirely.”
“How convenient,” Lady Rivenna observed. “Your obligations provide such a perfect shield against emotional entanglements.”
“I merely prioritize duty over frivolity.”
“And the Opening Ball?” his mother asked, subtly redirecting the conversation. “You will attend, won’t you? It’s important for the family to be represented.”
Jasvian barely restrained a grimace. “Is it really necessary? It’s not as though I’m seeking a match, and I have little interest in witnessing the magical displays of newly manifested debutantes.”
“It’s expected,” his mother said simply.
“Besides,” Evryn added with a grin from where he was now lounging against the mantelpiece, “someone needs to keep me from causing a scandal. Think of it as your brotherly duty.”
Before Jasvian could respond, a commotion outside drew everyone’s attention. Aurelise, who had indeed managed to return to her window perch, suddenly leaned out even further.
“Aurelise!” their mother exclaimed. “What did I just?—”
“Gossip birds!” Aurelise called excitedly. “A whole flock of them!”
