Jasvian frowned. “What do you mean?”
Rivenna sighed, the sound heavy with old grief. “In the months before his death, your father finally recognized what his choices had cost him. He came to me, troubled by the realization that he had missed so much of your childhood, that he had been a distant husband to your mother. He did not have the chance to tell you this himself before tragedy struck and took him from us far too early, and only now do I see that you’ve spent the past several years building your entire identity upon a philosophy your father himself had begun to abandon.”
Jasvian was shaking his head, even as his grandmother spoke, struggling to reconcile this new information with the image of his father he had carried for years. “That is not what he taught me.”
“Because he taught you the wrong thing! Have you truly heard nothing I’ve just said?Your life need not mirror his.Indeed, your work is fundamentally different. Many of his responsibilities have already been passed to others, precisely so you might focus your attention on the tempests. But with Lord Blackbriar’s work transferring your magic and building an entirely new system, there is simply no longer the same needfor your constant presence. You hold onto it because you are too afraid to relinquish control.”
Jasvian clenched his jaw. “I told you, this is not about fear. This is about me choosing to uphold my father’s example.”
“Good gracious, dear boy, have you always been this willfully blind?” His grandmother stepped back, hands settling firmly on her hips as she inhaled deeply. Then she paused. Her eyes narrowed, the lines around them deepening as she seemed to reach some internal decision. Her lips pressed together in a determined line as she studied him with an appraising gaze that made him feel like a puzzle she’d finally solved.
She turned and signaled to a footman standing near the entrance. “Call for Lord Rowanwood’s carriage immediately.”
Before Jasvian could protest, she had taken his arm in a surprisingly firm grip and was steering him toward the door.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Taking you to The Charmed Leaf,” she replied. “You need to hear something.”
“Hear—Grandmother, what has?—”
“There is something I believe the tea house can relay better to you than I ever could.”
“The tea house is abuilding!” Jasvian erupted in frustration. “It has no consciousness of its own and certainly is not capable ofrelayinganything to me!”
“Do not take that tone with me, boy,” his grandmother said, tugging him back to face her, voice sharper than he had heard it in years. “You will listen before your sheer stubbornness and determination to isolate yourself ruins your life beyond repair.”
Jasvian attempted to pull away, but his grandmother’s grip only tightened. “I have no interest in?—”
“Your interests are currently irrelevant,” she cut him off. “For someone so intelligent, you can be remarkably dense. Now, youwill accompany me to the tea house, you will sit down, and you will, for once in your life, truly listen.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“This is absurd,”Jasvian muttered as his grandmother lowered her hand and the door to The Charmed Leaf Tea House swung open.
His grandmother did not deign to respond. She simply stepped inside, and Jasvian had little choice but to follow. The main floor lay in shadow, illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the windows. The vines that adorned the interior walls shifted slightly as they passed, though no breeze disturbed the still air, and several faelights nestled among the ceiling foliage began to glow, bathing the empty tables below in soft light.
They moved further inside, his grandmother aiming for the intimate alcove tucked against the eastern wall where a small round table a single chair sat partially hidden from view. “Sit,” she commanded, gesturing beyond the cascading honeysuckle to that sacred space from which she had conducted her business and observations for decades.
“Grandmother, I have no desire to?—”
“Whether you desire it or not is beside the point,” she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Now sit.”
Jasvian stared at the space. Never, not once in his entire life, had he been permitted to sit there. As a child, he had been expressly forbidden to approach the space. As an adult, he had respected the unspoken boundary that marked it as exclusively hers. The only other person he had ever seen occupy that hallowed position was Iris, a privilege that had nearly caused him to trip over his own feet in shock when he’d first witnessed it.
“Grandmother, I cannot possibly?—”
“Heavens, boy, must you argue every point?”
With great reluctance, feeling like an interloper despite his grandmother’s insistence, Jasvian brushed the hanging vines aside and lowered himself into the chair at the small table. He watched warily as his grandmother flicked her fingers toward a nearby table, causing one of the upturned chairs to float gracefully to the floor before she settled herself upon it, arranging the folds of her evening gown.
“What now?” Jasvian asked. “Are you going to lecture me further on my poor life choices?”
“No,” she replied calmly. “I’m going to let you listen.” She placed her hands palm-down on her lap. “Close your eyes, Jasvian.”
He scoffed. “Grandmother, this is absurd. I fail to see how sitting in the dark will?—”
“Your stubborn resistance would be admirable if it weren’t so utterly exhausting,” she cut in sharply. “Close your eyes.”
