“Like a dying gossip bird?” Kazrian asked dryly.
Aurelise sighed. “It was atmospheric. The dissonance created emotional complexity.”
“The only emotion it created was confusion,” Kazrian said, looking around. “Oh, Grandmother, did you enchant that hanging teapot to display the time? How clever!”
Evryn glanced up, only now noticing the silver numbers glowing like moonlight along the curve of the large silver teapot suspended from the ceiling.
“Confusion?” Aurelise demanded. “Are you completely incapable of appreciating artistic nuance?”
Kazrian folded his arms over his chest as he faced his sister. “Are you completely incapable of?—”
“Please, my dears,” Lady Lelianna interrupted as she crossed the room toward Evryn. “Let us not begin the day this way.”
“It is indeed a new enchantment,” Lady Rivenna confirmed. “It was Lucie’s idea.”
“Ah, is Lucie here?” Kazrian asked, his face brightening. “I don’t believe I’ve seen her yet this Season, and I wanted to ask her about?—”
“That’s ‘Miss Fields’ to you, young man,” his grandmother said sternly. “And yes, she is here, attending to important tea house matters. Please do not distract her.”
“Has anyone seen Rosavyn?” Evryn asked, feeling rather like a condemned man hoping to expedite his own execution before he lost his nerve entirely.
“Evryn, darling,” his mother said, reaching his side and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How mysterious of you to summon us all. Does this have something to do with your disappearance from the ball last night? In case you thought I hadn’t noticed,” she added with a raised eyebrow, her attempt at maternal disapproval undermined by the fond warmth that always softened her gaze when looking at any of her children.
“If you don’t mind, Mother, I’d rather share my news just once,” Evryn said, glancing anxiously at the front door again. “I thought Rosavyn would be with you.”
“Oh, she was.” Lady Lelianna turned back toward the door. “I wonder where she?—”
“And what about Jasvian? He’s usually?—”
“Share what news?” came Jasvian’s voice, though not from the front entrance as Evryn had expected. He turned to find his older brother descending the staircase from the tea house’s upper study, looking every bit as composed and serious as ever.
Of course Jasvian would already be here, probably since dawn, being industrious and responsible as always. The man practically exuded duty from his pores. The upper study had been his sanctuary until their grandmother had forced him to share it with her new apprentice the previous Season. If Evryn recalled correctly, that enforced proximity was how Jasvian and Iris had begun their unlikely romance. His brother scowling over ledgers while Iris carefully documented tea leaf readings or whatever it was apprentices did. How veryJasvianto turn shared workspace into matrimony.
As if prompted by Evryn’s thoughts, Iris hurried into the main room of the tea house from the direction of the kitchen, tucking stray wisps of hair behind one ear and clutching a notebook beneath her arm. Her presence was still sometimes surprising to Evryn—this half-human woman who had captured first his grandmother’s attention and then his serious brother’s heart. “Forgive me,” she said, directing a sheepish smile in Evryn’s direction as she stopped at Jasvian’s side. “I know you said this was important. I was making a few notes—” she waved the notebook before placing it on the nearest table “—and lost track of time.”
“Oh, that’s—quite all right.” Evryn couldn’t help but feel a flicker of kinship with Iris in that moment. He understood all too well how words could capture one’s attention so completely that time itself seemed to bend around the page. Though in his case, the compulsion to write usually struck in the darkest hours of night rather than with the morning sun.
The front door swung open once more, and Rosavyn strode in. “Apologies for my tardiness,” she said, dusting what appeared to be dirt off the front of her skirt. “I saw Lucie on the side path trying to wrangle a pair of garden pixies who were engaged in mortal combat over a single hyacinth. I thought I should help. You wouldn’t think such tiny creatures could be so—Oh. Why do you all look so serious?” She paused as she glanced around at the assembled family. “Has someone died?”
“Not yet,” Evryn muttered under his breath.
“Rosavyn, dear, do sit down,” Lady Lelianna said, taking a seat and patting the empty chair beside her. “Your brother has news to share.”
“News?” Rosavyn’s eyes widened with interest as she slipped into the seat. “Is it scandalous? Please tell me it’s scandalous. The ball was dreadfully dull last night after you left.”
“Rosavyn!” their mother admonished.
“Oh I can’t wait until I’m allowed to attend the Opening Ball,” Aurelise said wistfully. “Please can I go next year, Mother? Even if I haven’t manifested yet? Rosavyn first attended when she was eighteen, and she hadn’t yet …”
Her voice trailed off as she no doubt realized what she’d said. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the group as everyone except Evryn studiously avoided looking at Rosavyn, whose expression had frozen into careful neutrality.
“Well,” Evryn began, deciding that if he was going to detonate a family crisis, this awkward moment was as good a time as any to light the fuse, especially if it would spare his favorite sibling further discomfort. “I’ve gathered you all here because I have an announcement of … significant personal import.”
“Oh, for stars’ sake,” Lady Rivenna said, setting down her half-eaten scone. “Out with it, boy. Some of us have establishments to run.”
Evryn straightened his shoulders. “Very well.” He swallowed. “I am to be married.”
His mother’s expression transformed instantly into one of delighted surprise. “Married? Oh, Evryn! To whom? Do we know her family? When did this happen?”
