Page 10 of Tempests & Tea Leaves (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #1)

Chapter Ten

Iris reached the bottom of the stairs, her cheeks still flushed from the confrontation. She paused at the edge of the main floor, taking a moment to compose herself before stepping into view of the early patrons who had begun to arrive.

Mrs Spindlewood stood at the entrance, welcoming a pair of elegantly dressed fae ladies. Iris watched as Lady Rivenna glided forward, exchanging pleasantries with the newcomers before personally guiding them to a table near the center of the room. Iris noticed how the table was positioned perfectly within earshot of where a younger gentleman and an older woman who might have been his mother were already seated, deep in conversation. Lady Rivenna then guided a trio of young lords to a table adjacent to where several debutantes sat with their chaperones. Before long, conversations began to spark between neighboring tables.

Iris smiled, shaking her head a little in wonder. What might appear random to anyone else now revealed itself as an intricate dance of social engineering. Every placement seemed calculated, every ‘chance’ encounter designed. Even now, Mrs Spindlewood was subtly rearranging the chair positions at one of the tables—after a whispered discussion with Lady Rivenna—to create a more intimate setting for what appeared to be a reunion between old friends.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Lady Rivenna’s voice came from beside her, and Iris started, not having noticed her approach. “Most believe they choose their own seats based on preference or availability. Few realize how deliberately their interactions are orchestrated.”

“It’s remarkable,” Iris admitted, continuing to watch. “I would never have noticed had I not been looking for it.”

Lady Rivenna’s lips curved in satisfaction. “The best manipulations are those that remain invisible.” She gestured toward the honeysuckle-draped alcove. “This morning, you will sit there in my personal private space and simply observe. Listen to the tea house, watch its subtle changes. Take note of what you see and hear, but do not intervene. I shall sit with you later this morning, and you can tell me what you’ve learned.”

Iris nodded, then made her way across the floor toward the private alcove. As she slipped past the curtain of trailing vines, she felt a curious sense of welcome. The cushions on the window seat seemed to plump themselves invitingly, and a shaft of sunlight angled through the window, illuminating the small table where a delicate porcelain cup sat waiting, filled with fragrant tea.

She placed her new notebook carefully on the window seat and settled herself comfortably beside it, taking a deep breath as she prepared to immerse herself in the life of The Charmed Leaf. From this vantage point, partially concealed by greenery yet offering a view of the majority of the main floor, she began to understand why Lady Rivenna treasured this particular spot. It was both sanctuary and observation post, a place to witness everything while appearing to notice nothing.

At first, she simply watched the steady stream of patrons, but gradually, something odd caught her attention. She blinked, then stared harder at the far wall. Had that alcove always curved quite that way? She could have sworn … She kept her gaze fixed on the spot, barely daring to breathe. Yes—there! The wall itself was moving, ever so slowly, creating a more intimate space for the young couple sharing tea and significant glances.

If she hadn’t been watching so intently, she might have missed it entirely. The changes were subtle, almost imperceptible unless one knew to look. A wall shifting a fraction of an inch, a doorway widening just enough to let in more light, a corner deepening to offer more privacy. And Iris suddenly remembered, with startling clarity, the way she thought she’d imagined the tea house interior stretching and expanding around the table she and her parents had walked toward the day they’d first come in here.

How remarkable! When she’d first heard people claim that The Charmed Leaf had a mind of its own, that it held opinions and preferences, she’d assumed it was merely figurative—a charming exaggeration to explain Lady Rivenna’s uncanny influence. But now Iris saw the truth: the building itself was consciously, physically altering its own architecture, reshaping itself to serve purposes only it fully understood.

Iris reached for the notebook Lady Rivenna had given her, intending to record these observations, but before she could open it, she heard something that made her pause. Voices—soft, delicate things that seemed to come from the very plants surrounding her.

“—simply cannot believe she would wear that shade of blue to a morning tea?—”

“—told him three times already that Father won’t approve?—”

“—if he thinks I’ll simply stand by while he gambles away my dowry?—”

Iris sat very still, listening. The voices seemed to shift and flow around her. Were the vines … No, they couldn’t be. And yet, as she watched closely, she found she was able to match the words currently reaching her ears to the movement of a woman’s lips at the table on the far side of the tea house.

Iris allowed herself a quiet gasp, her heart pattering faster. The vines were indeed relaying snippets of conversation from throughout the tea house. When Lady Rivenna had said that she sat here and listened to what the tea house had to tell her, she’d meant it quite literally. Iris’s gaze traveled to a table near the window where two ladies and a gentleman sat in apparently peaceful conversation. But now she could hear what lay beneath their pleasant smiles.

“You promised,” one of the women was saying, her actual voice barely a whisper while the plants carried her words clearly to Iris. “You swore you would stop.”

“My dear sister,” the man replied with fake joviality, “you worry too much. The investments are completely sound?—”

“That’s what you said about the pegasus racing scheme,” the other woman cut in. “And the enchanted jewelry venture. And now you expect us to believe?—”

A leafy tendril brushed Iris’s cheek, as if seeking approval for sharing these secrets. “You’re listening,” she murmured, partly in awe and partly in horror. “You’re listening to everything.”

The implications were staggering. How long had the plants been gathering intelligence? How many secrets had they collected over the years? Iris had heard it said that Lady Rivenna always seemed to know everything that happened in Bloomhaven, and now she understood how.

She continued to watch the arguing trio, and then … somehow, the scene before her seemed to shift, as if another image was trying to overlay itself on top of reality. For a moment, Iris saw the same table but with different people seated there, their faces indistinct but their postures speaking of similar tension. Then that image faded and another took its place—the same spot but at what must have been a different time of day, sunlight slanting differently across the table, the chairs arranged in a new pattern.

A burst of laughter shattered the strange vision, and Iris blinked rapidly as reality reasserted itself. “Did you do that?” she murmured out loud, but the vines didn’t answer her.

Iris’s gaze swept across the room until she caught Lady Rivenna’s eye. The older woman gave her a knowing look, and Iris realized that Rivenna was well aware of what Iris had just discovered. With unhurried grace, Lady Rivenna made her way toward the alcove, slipping behind the curtain of vines to join Iris in the sheltered nook.

“You have discovered the tea house’s greatest secret,” Lady Rivenna said, settling beside Iris on the window seat.

“The plants—they’re conveying conversations from across the room,” Iris said, keeping her voice low. “Is it … ethical? To listen to private exchanges without consent?”

Lady Rivenna’s expression grew solemn. “We are custodians of these secrets, Lady Iris, not their exploiters. Unlike those wretched gossip birds that squawk every tidbit to the highest rooftop, we hold these confidences sacred. The information gleaned here is to be used wisely—to guide, to prevent disaster, to create harmony where there might otherwise be discord. Never for vindictive purposes or personal gain.”

“But still,” Iris pressed, “how can you justify?—”

“Think of it as a responsibility,” Lady Rivenna interrupted. “One of the reasons I have never before chosen an apprentice is precisely this—I needed someone with both the wisdom and moral fortitude to be entrusted with such power.”

“But you don’t even know me,” Iris said, bewildered. “How can you possibly trust me with this?”

Lady Rivenna studied her for a long moment, her eyes reflecting the dappled light streaming in through the window. “I sensed something in you the night we met at the Opening Ball. Even before that, the moment you walked into this tea house …” She gestured to the trailing vines surrounding them. “I believe the tea house recognized you before I did.”

Iris laced her fingers together in her lap. “Are the whispers of the vines your only means of gathering insight? Does reading the tea leaves not play a role in this? I’ve heard they reveal glimpses of what’s to come. An old practice meant to divine the future.”

“The tea leaves do not show the future with certainty,” Lady Rivenna replied. “Rather, they hint at what might come to pass. Combined with the tea house’s whispers, these readings allow me to make informed judgments about where and how to … nudge circumstances in favorable directions.” She rose, smoothing her emerald skirts. “Continue listening, Lady Iris. The tea house has much more to teach you.”

As Iris listened and watched, time slipped by as effortlessly as steam rising from a freshly poured cup of tea. When she finally thought to glance at the ornate clock on the wall, she started. How had nearly two hours passed? The morning rush had given way to the pre-luncheon lull, and the quality of light streaming through the windows had shifted completely.

“Lady Iris?” She turned to find Lucie beside her. The serving girl dropped a quick curtsy. “I beg your pardon for disturbing you, but Lady Rivenna thought I might show you more of the tea house gardens before my midday break.”

Lucie led her through the bustling kitchen, where a fae woman whose skin possessed a definite orange tinge moved between the central work table and two of the ovens, her steps appearing to be perfectly choreographed to weave between the hearth sprites and kitchen pixies. “That’s Mama Saffron,” Lucie whispered to Iris. “Our pastry chef. She presides over all manner of confections and baked delicacies outside of the scones. Oh, and that’s Lissian,” she added as a pale, almost translucent figure emerged from the pantry carrying several jars of tea leaves and moved toward the brewing station.

The creature was shorter than both fae and humans, with wavy white hair arranged in a loose braid that reached all the way to her waist. Tiny flower buds were woven into the braid, and she wore what appeared to be a garment woven from morning mist and scattered petals that floated around her graceful form.

“Lissian prepares most of the tea served within these walls, though always in deference to the tea house itself, which, I have been assured, maintains the final authority on what shall be served to each patron.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered such a being before,” Iris remarked in a hushed tone. “Is she a nymph?”

“Indeed, my lady. A tea nymph, to be precise.”

Iris almost laughed before realizing Lucie was entirely serious. “A tea nymph?” she repeated. “I had no idea such creatures existed.”

“I believe they’re exceedingly rare. From what Lady Rivenna has said, these beings are particularly attuned to the essence of tea leaves and herbs. Lissian dwells in a secluded corner of the garden here, and it’s considered an honor that she has chosen to make her residence at The Charmed Leaf.”

As they crossed the kitchen toward the back door, Iris glanced at Lissian at her brewing station, which was nestled against a wall where the same vines that adorned the main tea house floor crept and twined. The nymph ran her slender fingers over the leaves, tilting her head as if listening to something. Then, with a nod, she lined up three teapots and began removing the lids from jars of various ingredients.

Outside, hints of lemongrass, mint and lavender mingled with the scents of other herbs and flowers. The garden gnomes Iris had glimpsed earlier were now fully engaged in their work, their pointed hats bobbing as they moved between rows with miniature watering cans and trowels. Nearby, a trio of garden pixies flitted around a cluster of exotic star-shaped blooms, coaxing the petals to open with delicate taps of their fingertips.

There was nothing here that Lady Rivenna hadn’t already shown her earlier that morning, and it occurred to Iris—belatedly—that this little visit to the garden with Lucie might be the result of one of the older woman’s carefully arranged social orchestrations that Iris had unknowingly stepped into.

“The garden gnomes and pixies are forever at war,” Lucie said before Iris could decide whether to be amused or exasperated at being drawn into one of Lady Rivenna’s subtle machinations. The younger girl pointed to where a gruff-looking gnome was shaking his trowel at a tiny figure hovering just out of reach. “The gnomes focus on what they call the ‘proper work’—turning soil, pulling weeds, ensuring correct drainage—while the pixies manage what they consider to be the more sophisticated tasks.”

As if to illustrate her point, a small group of garden pixies darted past, their gossamer wings catching the light as they carried armfuls of freshly cut blossoms, their tiny faces determined as they raced toward the kitchen door. The nearest gnome bellowed something unintelligible, his face reddening beneath his beard. The pixies merely giggled, accelerating as they disappeared inside with their floral treasures.

“I heard Lady Rivenna ask for more flowers for some of the table arrangements,” Lucie whispered, leaning a little closer, “but the gnomes are quite particular about where exactly the flowers are cut from. The pixies, however, pay no heed to their wishes.”

Iris suppressed a smile. “And does Lady Rivenna side with one or the other, or does she let them wage their little war unchecked?”

Lucie laughed. “Oh, she claims neutrality, but the gnomes grumble that the pixies get away with far too much under her watch.”

The two of them stood in companionable silence for another few moments, watching the gnomes and pixies at work. Then Lucie spoke, her voice soft and hesitant. “If you’ll permit me to say so, my lady … I am terribly sorry about those dreadful gossip birds and their awful squawking. It must be horrible, being new here and feeling like an outsider, only to have them spreading such unkind rumors.”

Iris’s throat tightened at the genuine sympathy in the girl’s voice. “Thank you. Though I suppose I should grow accustomed to it.”

“You should not have to.” Lucie’s usually cheerful face darkened. “Charlotte and I—Charlotte is my sister—have sworn we shall hunt down their keeper one day and put a stop to all this horrid rumor-mongering.”

“Their keeper?” Iris turned to her in surprise. “But aren’t they natural creatures that happen to live in the area?”

Lucie shook her head emphatically. “Oh no, my lady. They were created decades ago. Magical constructs, not proper birds at all. Abominations, if you ask me. Perhaps they no longer have a keeper, but if they do …” Her expression grew determined. “Well, Charlotte and I shall find this dreadful person eventually.”

“I had no idea.” Iris watched a garden sprite carefully measuring the distance between lavender plants with a tiny ruler. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Everything here seems designed to maintain social order through secrets and whispers.”

“It can be rather overwhelming,” Lucie agreed. “Especially when you’re …” she hesitated, then continued more quietly, “when you’re not quite what they consider proper society.”

Understanding passed between them. “Because you are human?” Iris asked gently.

Lucie nodded. “Yes. Like us, you understand what it means to be judged by what you lack rather than what you possess.”

“Indeed,” Iris murmured.

“I can learn some basic magic, of course,” Lucie continued. “Simple charms and everyday enchantments. But I will never have the natural ability of the fae.” She gestured to where a garden pixie was coaxing a reluctant rose to bloom. “Never be able to do anything quite so instinctive.”

“At least you know where you stand,” Iris said. “Being half-fae is like … like being caught between two worlds. Not quite belonging to either.”

“But you manifested,” Lucie pointed out. “That is something they cannot dismiss, no matter how much they might want to.”

Iris heaved a sigh. “True. Though a certain brooding person of great importance seems determined to do precisely that.”

“Ah.” Lucie’s lips twitched. “You speak of Lord Jasvian Rowanwood, I imagine? Indeed, he can be rather … overbearing in his opinions. Though his younger brothers and sisters are much pleasanter company.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “He may fancy himself the arbiter of all society’s opinions, but I assure you, he doesn’t speak for everyone. The rest of Bloomhaven’s elite will have to acknowledge you now. Not only have you manifested, but you are Lady Rivenna’s chosen apprentice.”

“That’s another thing that continues to surprise me,” Iris commented. “I wouldn’t have thought an apprenticeship a position the nobility would covet.”

Lucie’s eyes widened. “Oh, but you cannot imagine! To be the next proprietress of The Charmed Leaf? Why, half of Bloomhaven’s most distinguished families would trade their finest pegasi for such an opportunity. Even those who pretend to look down on commerce would give anything to hold such a position.”

Iris thought of the morning’s whispered revelations, the secrets carried on vine-wrapped breezes. Having witnessed only a fraction of the tea house’s abilities this morning, Iris could well understand its allure. The tea house’s exact magic might remain a mystery to most, none could deny the power held by its mistress.

“Though of course,” Lucie continued, her expression growing thoughtful, “it takes someone rather special to manage it all properly. Which is why Lady Rivenna is so particular about …” She trailed off, clearly searching for the right words.

“About what?”

“About seeing people for who they truly are, I suppose. She is not like the rest of them, you know. She sees beyond all their silly rules about proper bloodlines and natural ability. She gave me a chance here when no other fine establishment that serves the elite of Bloomhaven would consider hiring a human girl, and she has never once made me feel lesser for it.” She smoothed her apron. “She trusts me. Values my work. Gives me the opportunity to stay late sometimes and experiment in the kitchen. It means everything to me.”

Iris studied the young serving girl with new appreciation. “She seems to have excellent judgment.”

“Oh, she does.” Lucie’s smile returned. “And she chose you as her apprentice. That must mean something rather significant, don’t you think?”

Before Iris could respond, a voice called from beyond the willowbloom. “Lucie? Are you out here? I wanted to ask if you still plan to—oh!” A young woman emerged from beneath a flowered archway, her dark brown hair caught up in a practical knot. She wore a simple dress—quite different from the elaborate silks favored by Bloomhaven’s elite—but carried herself with quiet dignity.

“Oh! Lady Iris, this is my sister Charlotte,” Lucie said, and indeed, Iris could see the resemblance now. “The very one I was just speaking of—my partner in the great gossip bird investigation.”

“Plotting our detective work without me again, Lucie?” Charlotte grinned, though her expression grew somewhat guarded as it shifted back to Iris. “Good day, my lady.”

“This is Lady Iris,” Lucie said. “She has just become Lady Rivenna’s apprentice.”

“Apprentice?” Charlotte looked appropriately shocked. “But … wait. Lady Iris? Lady Iris Starspun ? But you are …” Charlotte trailed off as her gaze shifted slightly, leaving Iris with little doubt that the girl was examining the not-nearly-elegant-enough points of her ears. Then her face broke into a grin. “Oh, but this is simply marvelous!” She clapped her hands and gave a delighted laugh. “Lady Rivenna has outdone herself this time. Proper fae society will be in absolute fits over this. How perfectly wonderful.”

Lucie giggled, then hurriedly clapped a hand over her mouth, her uncertain gaze darting to Iris as if she wasn’t sure whether laughter was an appropriate response. The girl’s apparent fear, due no doubt to Iris’s fae side, made something twist painfully in Iris’s chest.

She smiled warmly, hoping to reassure Lucie. “I have no doubt,” she said, her gaze returning to Charlotte, “that they will respond exactly as you have predicted. I’m surprised those blasted gossip birds have not spread the news already.”

“A slow morning for them indeed,” Charlotte said. “They are most likely still recovering from spreading their rather creative version of your encounter with Lord Rowanwood at the Opening Ball. Apparently you challenged him to a magical duel, and he turned all your paper butterflies into golden dust while the High Lady cheered him on.”

Iris could not help her horrified bark of laughter. “ That is the story now circulating around Bloomhaven?”

Charlotte shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, perhaps not quite so embellished, my lady.”

“Please,” Iris said, “just Iris will do. After enduring endless formality and judgment, it’s refreshing to be among people where such pretense isn’t necessary.”

“Iris,” Charlotte repeated with a small nod, and something in her expression—a mixture of understanding and shared defiance—made Iris feel truly seen for the first time since arriving in Bloomhaven. “It is so lovely to meet you.”

Iris felt something tight in her chest begin to loosen. After days of navigating cutting remarks and sideways glances, Lucie’s gentle kindness and Charlotte’s straightforward warmth were like finding two unexpected allies in enemy territory. “Likewise.”

“Now, sister dear,” Charlotte continued, turning her attention to Lucie, “I came to ask if you still wished to visit The Petal & Pearl during your break. I heard they’ve just received a new shipment of products.”

“Oh yes!” Lucie’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been looking forward to it all morning. I have but a few minutes remaining until my break.”

“The Petal & Pearl?” Iris questioned, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh, it’s the most enchanting beauty boutique in Bloomhaven,” Lucie explained, her eyes sparkling. “You’ll find the most marvelous magical cosmetics there. Dewdrop lip stains, powders that make your skin glow, balms that change color with your emotions. Their newest product is something called Starfall Kohl that’s supposedly made from crushed meteor dust.”

“You simply must come with us, Iris,” Charlotte said. “If Lady Rivenna permits, of course. We shall not be gone too long. Only the length of Lucie’s break.”

Iris hesitated, holding back the ‘yes’ she had almost blurted out. As much as she longed to spend more time with Lucie and Charlotte, two human girls were hardly the sort of company her grandparents would approve of if she hoped to make advantageous connections in society. But this wasn’t a formal social gathering, and after the strange morning she’d had …

“I would love to,” she said, then quickly added, “though I must first ask Lady Rivenna if?—”

“Go, go,” Lady Rivenna’s voice came from behind them, making them all jump. Iris swung around and found Lady Rivenna standing in the open doorway leading to the kitchen. “The afternoon rush won’t begin for hours yet, and you’ve already observed much this morning. I suspect your mind is full of … knowledge.” She hesitated a moment on the final word, her eyes holding a knowing glint, and Iris knew that in this case, ‘knowledge’ most certainly meant ‘secrets.’ “Best not to weigh you down with too much at this early stage. We shall discuss all that you have learned so far when you return this afternoon with Miss Lucie.” Her sharp gaze landed on the young girl. “Do be sure you return on time.”

“Of course, my lady,” Lucie said, dipping into a curtsy.

As Lady Rivenna disappeared back into the tea house, Lucie let out a small squeal of excitement, and the three young women exchanged delighted glances. For the first time since arriving in Bloomhaven, Iris felt something remarkably like the beginning of friendship.