Page 15 of Tempests & Tea Leaves (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #1)

Chapter Fifteen

“Hold still,” Iris laughed, tucking the last stray wave of hair into place with one of Rosavyn’s many pins. “There. Now you look like a proper lady again.”

“Finally!” Rosavyn turned back around on the plush velvet seat, smoothing her skirts as the enchanted carriage crested the final hill outside Bloomhaven. Unlike typical carriages, this one required neither horses nor driver, operating solely on magical energy stored within its lumyrite-infused chassis. Iris’s grandparents did not own a carriage like this, though she suspected they once had.

The vehicle slowed as they approached their destination, and Iris peered eagerly through the window. The carriage came to a gentle stop, and a small chime sounded, indicating they had arrived. “We’re here!” Rosavyn’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she flung open the door. “Come on!”

Iris followed her friend out of the carriage, her boots sinking slightly into the soft grass. The moment she straightened and looked around, her breath caught in her throat.

The carriage had stopped atop one of the many rolling hills that formed a rough ring around a shallow dip in the landscape. The gentle slopes of these hills served as natural seating areas, with colorful pavilions and canopies dotting the greenery like wildflowers. In the air above the central dip, glowing ribbons of golden light twisted and curved, forming an elaborate three-dimensional racetrack that sparkled against the azure sky. Magical obstacles floated at various points along the circuit, while bright flags fluttered near what must be the finish line.

“It’s …” Iris struggled to find words adequate enough.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Rosavyn grinned, clearly delighted by Iris’s reaction. “Oh! It looks like something is about to begin. A qualifying round, perhaps?” A melodious horn sounded, and the crowd’s cheerful chatter intensified. “I’m not familiar with the particulars,” Rosavyn added, “unlike my brother Evryn, who studies the bloodlines and racing records and places the most ridiculous wagers. I simply love being here. The atmosphere, the excitement, the magic of it all.”

Iris followed Rosavyn’s gaze upward just as six pegasi glided through a shimmering portal that had appeared in the air. The magical beasts displayed a dazzling array of colors—deep blues with silver-tipped wings, burnished copper with manes that trailed sparks, and one that was a gold so pale it seemed to glow.

The riders guided their mounts in a formation so tight it seemed impossible they wouldn’t collide, yet they moved with such precision that not a wingtip touched. They circled the natural amphitheater once, the pegasi occasionally dipping low enough that spectators reached up as if hoping to catch a stray feather, before taking their positions at the starting line where a band of golden light pulsed in the air.

“Where should we sit?” Iris asked, tearing her eyes away from the spectacle long enough to scan the various spots along the hillsides. Some spectators huddled under colorful canopies and tents, while others spread blankets directly on the lush grass. The air smelled of sweet honey cakes and spiced cider, with vendors wandering the hillsides carrying trays of treats or pushing colorful carts.

Rosavyn gestured toward a small pavilion draped in forest green and silver perched on one of the best vantage points. “The Rowanwoods have a family stand, of course. It has one of the best views of the circuit—well, aside from the High Lady’s stand.” She pointed to an elegant white and gold structure situated on the highest knoll. “But I prefer to wander among the open areas.” She pulled Iris toward a grassy section where spectators milled about freely. “It’s far more fun than enduring the company of my family.”

They wound their way through the crowd, Rosavyn nodding graciously to various acquaintances as they passed. Ladies flaunted silk gowns with intricate embroidery and towering hats adorned with feathers, while gentlemen sported pristine waistcoats and polished shoes. Iris, in the practical dress she’d worn for a day of work and study at the tea house, was woefully underdressed for such a grand occasion. She lifted her chin, reminding herself that she belonged here just as much as any of these ladies.

From their vantage point, Iris could see across nearly the entire circuit. Small flags marked different sections of the hillside, and a group of musicians played sprightly tunes from a wooden platform nearby, their melodies carrying across the natural amphitheater. Down at the base of their hill, bookmakers sat at small tables with colorful umbrellas, calling odds as eager bettors pressed forward.

“This is thrilling,” Iris said, her eyes drinking everything in. “And so lovely to get away from the tea house.” She stopped suddenly, widening her eyes. “Not the tea house specifically,” she added hastily. “Your grandmother’s establishment is wonderful. I meant because of—well, your brother. He is most infuriating. How ever do you endure his ridiculously rigid ways?”

Rosavyn laughed, the sound bright and mischievous. “It’s quite the challenge at times,” she admitted. “When he is being particularly insufferable, I like to remind him of the time he and Evryn were attempting to outdo one another with levitation spells as boys. It was early morning and neither of them was fully dressed yet. Jasvian’s spell went awry and left him drifting helplessly near the ceiling in only his underthings, the spell forcing him to float through the house for all to behold.”

Iris couldn’t help but giggle at the image. “I would have paid good coin to witness that.”

“But he wasn’t always so severe,” Rosavyn added, her expression growing slightly more serious. “It worsened after our father’s passing some years ago. Jasvian believes it his duty to uphold tradition, to preserve our family’s standing. At times, I wonder if he remembers how to take pleasure in anything at all. “

Iris opened her mouth to carefully inquire further, when something—or rather someone—barreled up the hillside and nearly collided with them, accompanied by a burst of giggles. “Rosavyn! You came after all!”

Iris immediately recognized Charlotte, her dark hair escaping its pins and her eyes bright with mischief. She wore a dress of faded indigo—simple and unadorned compared to the elaborate silk gowns and feathered hats dotting the hillside around them.

“Charlotte!” Rosavyn exclaimed, embracing the girl warmly. “I thought you wouldn’t be here! You said you had to work at the shop today.”

“Mother allowed me to leave early,” Charlotte said, grinning. “All of Bloomhaven society appears to have abandoned their usual haunts in favor of the races. The shop stands quite deserted.” Her eyes sparkled as she turned to Iris. “What a delightful surprise to find you here as well!”

Iris smiled in return. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“Oh, we’ve been good friends for years,” Rosavyn said, linking her arm through Charlotte’s. “Ever since an incident in Charlotte’s mother’s shop when we were children.”

Charlotte burst into laughter. “Oh, the dress stand disaster! I’ll never forget your mother’s face.”

Rosavyn turned to Iris with a conspiratorial smile. “I was about nine, and Mother had dragged me to the dressmaker for a fitting. I was bored beyond tears and noticed another girl hiding among the dress racks, peeking out at me. That was Charlotte.”

“I was supposed to be sorting ribbons,” Charlotte added.

“We started making faces at each other,” Rosavyn continued. “Then I snuck over, and we both hid behind a display of silks draped on padded dress stands. We were whispering and giggling, and then?—”

“I backed into one of the stands,” Charlotte interjected, “and they went down like dominoes! Crash, crash, crash! Silk and lace and toppled stands everywhere!”

“Both our mothers came running,” Rosavyn said. “They were furious, demanding to know who was responsible. Neither of us would say, neither wanting to get the other in trouble.”

“So we both got punished,” Charlotte finished. “I had to reorganize the entire ribbon collection.”

“And I was not allowed to speak for the entire time Mrs Fields pinned my dress, which felt like an eternity. But by the end of it, we’d passed so many secret smiles that we were inseparable from then on.”

A trumpet sounded, drawing their attention back to the race above. The pegasi had taken their positions, their riders leaning forward in anticipation.

“You might not expect it,” Rosavyn murmured to Iris as they focused on the racetrack, “considering my brother’s opinions on humans and their supposed unsuitability as companions for a young fae of good standing. But I’ve never been bothered by Jasvian’s views. A friend is a friend, no matter their lineage.”

The horn sounded again, sweet and clear in the afternoon air, and the pegasi surged forward in a blur of wings and color, following the golden track that wound through the sky. “What are those golden spheres?” Iris asked, pointing at the large spheres floating at different heights.

“They’re filled with enhancement magic,” Rosavyn said. “If a rider manages to pass through one, their pegasus gains a temporary burst of speed or agility.”

Iris nodded, her gaze darting ahead along the track, taking in all the various obstacles. “And those dark clouds?”

“Storm pockets,” Charlotte said. “They create random wind patterns and occasionally release lightning. The riders have to time their approach perfectly. A skilled rider can use the wind currents to gain advantage, but one wrong move … Well, it’s potentially deadly.”

“Oh, Charlotte!” Rosavyn suddenly exclaimed in a theatrical whisper. “Is that not the Turner family over there? Indeed it is! We simply must go and pay our respects.”

“Rosavyn!” Charlotte hissed as Iris looked around to see who Rosavyn was talking about. “No!”

“But why ever not?” Rosavyn asked with feigned innocence. “When it is quite plain you’re entirely taken with young Mr. Theo Turner?—”

“Hush!”

“The Turners keep the stationer’s shop across the road from Charlotte’s mother’s establishment,” Rosavyn explained to Iris. “They offer the most delightful assortment of fine papers. You truly must pay a visit. And should you do so, if you happen to see a handsome young man with fair hair behind the counter, do inform him that a certain young lady from across the way wishes most earnestly to?—”

“Rosavyn, that is quite enough!” Charlotte cried, though she could barely contain her laughter.

As the two of them continued arguing good-naturedly, Iris’s attention was caught by the name ‘Starspun’ and the words ‘that human woman’ spoken by someone behind her. An unwelcome chill coursed through her, and she shifted forward slightly, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. But the woman’s sharp voice was loud enough to cut through Rosavyn and Charlotte’s chatter.

“You’ll notice the Starspuns are not in attendance today.”

“Indeed,” a second voice replied. “I’m not surprised Mrs Starspun hasn’t shown her face much in society since arriving.”

Charlotte’s cheerful expression faltered, her smile freezing in place as her eyes darted toward the voice. Beside her, Rosavyn’s face tightened, a muscle working in her jaw as she met Iris’s gaze with a look of quiet alarm. She placed a hand on Iris’s arm. “Perhaps we should?—”

“I would be hiding too,” the first voice replied with a delicate sniff. “Being human is bad enough, but to be second choice after another human? It’s positively mortifying.”

“And with the Fields family still here in Bloomhaven! Can you imagine?”

The Fields family. Iris looked at Charlotte just as the other girls’ gaze turned swiftly to the ground, her face flushing. Iris frowned.

“Clearly he was trying to prove some point by marrying the second one,” the woman said.

“I imagine so. One wonders if he even loved her at all or was merely doing it to spite his parents!”

The two of them laughed and continued moving through the crowd.

“Charlotte?” Iris’s voice emerged barely above a whisper. “What were they talking about?”

Charlotte’s eyes darted to Rosavyn, who was watching both of them with an expression of growing alarm. “I … I don’t know if it’s my place to?—”

“Tell me.” Iris’s voice emerged a little more forceful than she’d intended. “Clearly everyone else knows this secret, and I do not like being kept in the dark about something that pertains to my own family.”

Charlotte nodded, pressing her lips together before answering. “Perhaps we should find somewhere more private to discuss this.”

They made their way to a relatively secluded spot beneath a tree at the edge of the gathering. Charlotte took a deep breath before speaking. “My aunt … well … she and your father were in love, years ago. Before he met your mother. They wished to be married.”

Iris felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet. The thought that her father had loved someone before her mother—had nearly married someone else—cracked the foundation of her family’s story as she understood it. Iris herself would not even exist if her father had married his first love!

“What?” she whispered.

“It was quite the scandal at the time, I believe. A fae lord and a human woman? It simply was not done. Not in those days. Your grandparents refused to support the match, threatened to cut him off entirely.” Charlotte’s voice grew quiet. “He left Bloomhaven after that. Apparently he said he wanted nothing more to do with any of it.”

“And then he married my mother,” Iris said slowly. “Also human.” Slowly, pieces clicked into place. The odd tension at The Petal & Pearl, her mother’s strange reaction to meeting Charlotte. Her mother clearly knew that there had been someone else before her. “So when they say second choice ?—”

“It’s horrible gossip,” Rosavyn cut in. “History that should have been forgotten years ago. But you know how some people love to cling to old scandals.”

But Iris was barely listening. The scene before her eyes seemed to fold in on itself before unfolding to reveal something slightly different—the same gathering but with subtle changes, faces shifting, positions altering. Then it folded again and again, each new variation layering over the previous one until she could barely distinguish what was real and what was not.

The world tilted alarmingly. She reached out blindly, her knees threatening to buckle. Rosavyn caught her arm. “Iris! Are you all right? You’ve gone terribly pale.”

Iris blinked rapidly, trying to clear the disorienting images from her mind. The strange folding effect began to recede, though echoes of it lingered at the edges of her vision, like scenes glimpsed through warped glass. She drew in a shaky breath.

“I … I think I need to return home,” she said, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. “I need to speak to my parents.”

“Iris, wait—” Charlotte reached for her arm, but Iris was already moving.

She pushed through the crowd, barely registering the disapproving looks her haste earned her. The surrounding sounds seemed oddly muted as she struggled to escape the gathering—and then collided with two men who suddenly appeared in her path.

“Oh! I do apologize!” She stumbled backward, looking up to find herself face to face with?—

Lord Jasvian Rowanwood. Sound crashed back into her awareness like a broken dam. Good stars, could she not escape this man? Was this the social engagement he’d spoken of earlier? The pegasus races?

Beside Lord Jasvian stood someone Iris did not recognize. Handsome, with light brown hair and an open, friendly face. “No harm done,” he said with a warm smile. There was something familiar about his voice, though she couldn’t place it. “Are you … is everything all right, my lady?”

“I …” Iris blinked once more. “Yes, thank you. I simply need to … to go.”

“Allow me to assist—” the stranger began, but Iris was already moving past them.

“Thank you, but no,” she called faintly over her shoulder. And with that, she hurried away, struggling to make sense of what troubled her more: her father’s unexpected past or the disorienting images that had momentarily replaced her reality.

“That was Lady Starspun, was it not?” Hadrian asked, watching the young woman’s retreating form.

Jasvian barely registered the question, too preoccupied to muster a proper response. He frowned, his gaze sweeping the crowd as he searched for the source of the unstable magic that had been prickling at the edges of his awareness for the past few minutes.

“I heard your grandmother has made her the apprentice at the tea house,” Hadrian continued. “Quite unexpected. Mother thinks it’s a dreadful scandal, of course, but it’s made me look at Lady Starspun in a new light. She must be quite the impressive young lady if your grandmother chose her. It certainly speaks to her character, does it not?”

A noncommittal noise emerged from Jasvian’s throat. He did not think particularly highly of Lady Iris’s character, but the last time he’d expressed his honest opinion about her in a public setting, it had ended with a chandelier exploding above his head. He thought it prudent to keep his exact thoughts to himself.

Besides, there was that sense of volatile magic to be concerned about. It was growing dimmer now, but?—

“Don’t you think she’s rather lovely, Jasvian?” Hadrian pressed.

Jasvian cleared his throat and attempted to focus on his friend. “I believe I made my opinion quite clear at the Opening Ball.” The unsettling magical disturbance was fading now, which brought him some relief. It had possessed a distinctive quality quite unlike the tempests he monitored in the mines—his ability was specifically attuned to the volatile magic that gathered around lumyrite deposits—but still a possible cause for concern. Most fae mastered basic magic in childhood, and even those still adjusting to their newly awakened abilities rarely lost control to the degree of the erratic surge he had just sensed nearby.

“Do you think she seemed distressed?” Hadrian continued, clearly not noticing Jasvian’s distraction. “I wonder if I should go after her, offer assistance …”

Before Jasvian could respond, Rosavyn pushed past him in a flutter of skirts, followed closely by a young woman he recognized as Charlotte Fields—the older sister of his grandmother’s human serving girl. And they were headed in the same direction as Lady Iris. His jaw clenched. It was bad enough that Rosavyn insisted on maintaining her inappropriate friendship with the Fields girl, but now it appeared she was openly associating with Lady Iris as well?

He took a step forward, fully intending to remind his sister about the importance of appropriate social connections, but a cheer went up from the crowd as the first race ended. Spectators surged forward across the lawns, their excitement amplified by streams of magical light that burst from the finish line and scattered across the sky. The winning pegasus landed gracefully on the platform that had materialized to receive it, wings trailing golden sparks as its rider acknowledged the applause.

Then Jasvian caught sight of another pegasus—the third or fourth to land on the platform—and went very still. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking that particular landing style. Perhaps not noticeable to anyone else, but Jasvian had seen it too many times during childhood races around the Rowanwood country estate.

“Excuse me,” he said shortly to Hadrian. “There is something I must attend to.”

He made his way through the crowd toward the receiving yard where riders dismounted after races. Some of the pegasi were led to special cooling-down platforms, while others were guided toward the enchanted stables where weather wisps maintained perfect conditions for the magnificent creatures. The riders themselves dispersed to the Recovery Pavilions—a series of open-sided, airy structures where trainers offered immediate performance assessments and sponsors mingled discreetly with their favored competitors between races.

But the rider Jasvian sought had—unsurprisingly—slipped into one of the private preparation rooms. He followed, his anger building with each step, and threw open the door without knocking. “Have you completely lost your senses?” he demanded.

Evryn turned, still pulling off his racing gloves. He didn’t appear surprised to see his brother. “Ah, Jasvian. Come to lecture me about proper behavior again?”

“How did you convince the real rider to swap places with you this time?” Jasvian demanded, shutting the door firmly behind him. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? I am doing everything in my power to look after this family, and now I must worry about you getting yourself killed by illegally participating in the races?”

“Oh please.” Evryn tossed his gloves aside. “I’ve been riding since before I could walk. And fatalities are quite rare these days.”

“We discussed this. You promised it was finished.”

“I will not be bested by a Brightcrest!” Evryn’s composure cracked. “Especially not a?—”

“Brightcrest?” Jasvian repeated. “Alaryn Brightcrest is partaking in this lunacy as well? While his new wife and unborn child await him at home?”

Evryn released a snort, almost amused but not quite. “Please, brother,” he said, turning away to place his racing gloves on a nearby table, “do not embarrass yourself by meddling in affairs about which you comprehend nothing.”

Jasvian stared at his brother for a long moment, jaw working. Then he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The nerve of Evryn! As if Jasvian did not have enough to worry about with ensuring safety in the mines, with Rosavyn’s delayed manifestation, with the esteemed legacy of The Charmed Leaf at risk now that his grandmother had chosen such an unsuitable apprentice. And now illegal pegasus racing! Was he the only one who understood what responsibility meant?

Their father had taught them that duty came before personal indulgence, but apparently Jasvian was the only one who had taken this lesson to heart.