“No apology necessary,” she replied quickly. “It is only … I am just …” She swallowed.
“Perhaps you would prefer to return to the main part of the market,” he suggested. “Or if you wish to rejoin your friends, I would be happy to?—”
“No,” Iris interrupted, shaking her head. “No, I’m enjoying your company.”
“Then perhaps we might discuss safer subjects,” he offered with a slight smile, gesturing for her to sit again. “I’m particularly curious about this tea blend you mentioned. The process of developing it must have been interesting.”
Iris relaxed, grateful for his redirection. “It was indeed,” she said as she took her place beside him once more, pulling her silk shawl closer around herself. “You may recall the scent of one of my earlier experiments. I believe you described it as a ‘garden gnome’s unwashed boots.’”
“Ah, that was the origin of ‘Autumn & Pine,’ was it?” he asked with a grin. “I’m relieved indeed that you improved upon the blend.”
“As am I.”
Their shared laughter eased the remaining tension between them, restoring the comfortable rapport they had been building throughout the evening.
“And you mentioned that my grandmother has tasked you with hosting your own event at the tea house,” Jasvian said, his expression curious. “What does such an undertaking entail?”
“Oh, everything,” Iris replied. “The entire affair is to be my responsibility—selecting a suitable theme, arranging the decor, curating the guest list, deciding which tea blends to feature and what delicacies shall be served.” She counted each element on her fingers. “Lady Rivenna says it will be my first true test as her apprentice.”
“Indeed, that sounds more involved than preparing for the Summer Solstice Ball,” Jasvian observed.
Iris laughed. “You’re not wrong. Though I confess, I’ve found it rather enjoyable to imagine all the details.” She lowered her voice slightly, leaning closer. “In truth, I’m planning something rather different, particularly with the guest list. I suspect I’m going to ruffle more than a few feathers in Bloomhaven society.”
“Oh?” Jasvian’s eyebrow arched with interest. “Is Bloomhaven ready for such feather-ruffling?”
“Probably not,” Iris replied with a mischievous smile. “But that hasn’t deterred me in the slightest. I’ve presented my ideas to your grandmother, and she seemed quite pleased. Though I suspect she’s equally interested in observing the reactions of her regular patrons to something so decidedly unconventional.”
She adjusted her shawl, then turned the conversation. “And what of this project you mentioned? The one you’ve been working on with Lord Hadrian that’s occupied so much of your time recently?”
Jasvian’s expression grew more serious. “A significant improvement to the tempest early warning system in the mines,” he explained. “An entirely new approach, in fact. In the past, we relied upon tempest bells, but they provided warning only once a tempest had already gained considerable strength, often too late for a complete evacuation.”
“And now the system has been replaced by you,” Iris said softly.
“Indeed. However, as you might imagine, being so frequently present at the mines has taken its toll. Hadrian has been attempting to develop an alternative. I’m not certain if you’re aware, but he possesses the ability to transfer one’s specifically manifested magic into other objects.”
“He has spoken of this, yes,” Iris said.
“For some time now, he’s been trying to translate my sensing ability into a network of detection items placed throughout the mine tunnels,” Jasvian continued. “The intention is that theywould not only sense when a tempest begins to build but also incorporate my ability to calm the magic before it erupts into chaos.”
“Oh!” Iris sat straighter with renewed interest. “But that sounds truly marvelous! It would relieve you of such a tremendous burden of responsibility.”
“Indeed,” Jasvian agreed, his expression softening slightly. “I’ve harbored reservations since the beginning—entrusting lives to a mechanical system doesn’t come easily to me—but it appears that with Hadrian’s recent breakthroughs, this system may actually prove viable. We’ll begin further testing as soon as the dormant season concludes and the mines reopen.”
As they continued discussing the finer details of Hadrian’s work, more people began gathering around the fire pit. Well-dressed fae couples and small groups claimed the remaining benches, their excitement palpable as the scheduled hour for storytelling approached. Vendors circulated with trays of delicate confections and goblets filled with shimmering beverages.
A hush fell over the gathering, and Jasvian shifted a little closer to Iris. A tall fae woman with purple- and silver-streaked hair stepped into the circle, adorned in midnight-blue robes. She raised her hands, and the lumyrite stones in the fire pit responded immediately, glowing brighter.
“Welcome, travelers and townspeople alike,” she began, her melodic voice carrying effortlessly to every corner of the clearing. “Tonight, I shall share with you the tale of the Frost Prince and the Summer Maiden.”
As the storyteller wove her tale, the lumyrite stones shifted in mesmerizing harmony with the narrative, transitioning from cool blues and silvers to warm golds and ambers, then later deepening to rich purples during moments of peril before brightening to joyful whites and golds at a moment of triumph.The audience responded as one—gasping at moments of danger, sighing at tender revelations, and holding their breath during tense confrontations—while the storyteller’s graceful hands conjured delicate illusions that danced above the fire pit.
Iris would have been utterly enchanted had she been able to focus on the tale. But she could feel the occasional brush of Jasvian’s shoulder, and at some point during the storyteller’s performance, his leg had come to rest against hers. The warmth of that contact, innocent though it was, sent currents of awareness through her that rivaled the magic illuminating the story circle. She struggled to follow the narrative, repeatedly losing the thread as her attention returned, unbidden, to the press of his knee against hers and the way his hand occasionally brushed hers when he shifted position.
When the storyteller finished to hearty applause, Iris realized with a start that she could recall perhaps half the story at best. “That was extraordinary,” she managed, hoping she sounded appropriately appreciative.
“Indeed,” Jasvian agreed, his eyes meeting hers with a lack of focus that suggested he might have been as distracted as she. “Shall we explore more of the market? There’s a vendor of enchanted confections near the eastern path that I think you might enjoy.”
The remainder of the evening passed in a delightful blur as they wandered from stall to stall. Jasvian proved to be a knowledgeable guide, steering her toward the most interesting displays while sharing observations about the magical craftsmanship involved. They sampled delicate spun-sugar cages containing crystallized laughter that dissolved on the tongue with a surprising, effervescent fizz, watched a craftsman shape luminous ink into floating calligraphy, laughed together at the antics of messenger pixies carrying tiny parcels betweenvendors, and debated the merits of various enchanted items with a comfortable ease that belied their previous awkwardness.
