Page 17 of Tempests & Tea Leaves (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #1)

Chapter Seventeen

Iris stepped out of her grandparents’ carriage at the edge of Elderbloom Park, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the mid-morning brightness. Even from this distance, she could see the ancient elderfae tree that dominated the center of the park, its massive branches reaching skyward. Stately oak and willow trees lined the winding gravel paths, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze, while ornate marble fountains bubbled with enchanted water that sparkled in the sunlight.

“Do hurry, Iris,” her grandmother said, already moving toward the park entrance. “The morning promenade has already begun.”

Iris fidgeted with the edge of her lace glove, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle before taking her grandfather’s arm when he offered it. “Remember,” he said in a low voice as they followed her grandmother, “today is about being seen. About establishing your place in Bloomhaven society now that your parents have returned home.”

“As was always the plan,” her grandmother added over her shoulder, clearly having overheard despite the distance between them. “That is what we shall tell anyone who inquires. It was always intended that you would remain with us for the season while your parents returned to manage affairs at home.”

Iris nodded, biting back the urge to point out that this ‘plan’ had only materialized two days ago. Her grandparents were determined to control the narrative surrounding her parents’ abrupt departure, and she supposed she couldn’t blame them.

Rumors were already circulating, of course. Iris had heard whispers of them the day before as she sat in her alcove at the tea house. She was relieved she now knew of her father’s history in Bloomhaven, otherwise she would have been utterly bewildered by the repeated mentions of ‘that Fields woman’ that floated to her from the vines’ whispers.

Despite everything, there was one small silver lining to her parents’ departure: the strained atmosphere between Iris and her grandparents had lightened somewhat. Dinner the previous night had been marginally less tense than the ones that preceded it, as if her mother’s absence had removed some invisible pressure from the room.

Her grandmother slowed as they entered the park, allowing Iris and her grandfather to draw closer. “My maid Frances told me she overheard the Locklear heir inquiring about you,” she said, her voice pitched just for their ears. “His family possesses an admirable estate to the north.”

“Locklear?” her grandfather scoffed quietly. “They may have land, but their influence has waned considerably. The Blackbriar family would be a far more advantageous connection.”

“The Blackbriars are certainly well-positioned,” her grandmother conceded with a small nod. “Though I hear Lady Thornhart has already set her sights on Lord Blackbriar for her youngest granddaughter.”

“Lady Thornhart can set her sights wherever she pleases. The Starspun name still carries weight, despite …” Her grandfather trailed off, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on Iris’s arm.

“Despite our financial situation,” her grandmother finished bluntly, though still keeping her voice low. “Which is precisely why we must be strategic. Lord Jasvian Rowanwood would have been the most advantageous match by far, had Iris not engaged in that regrettable exchange with him at the Opening Ball.”

Iris suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t bother reminding them that Lord Jasvian had been the one to offer insult first with his contemptuous remarks about her heritage and magic.

“Young Lord Ellendale has shown interest,” her grandfather said, “and while his family’s standing isn’t what it once was, an alliance there could prove mutually beneficial.”

“The boy barely manifested last season,” her grandmother countered with a dismissive wave of her gloved hand. “His magic is hardly impressive.”

“As if Iris’s paper folding puts her in a position to be selective,” her grandfather muttered.

Iris felt a flush creep up her neck, but she kept her expression carefully neutral.

“We should encourage connections with at least three promising candidates,” her grandmother declared. “The Blackbriar heir, certainly, if an opportunity presents itself. Perhaps young Wintervale, despite his mother’s insufferable pretensions. And I still maintain the Broadbank second son has potential. He may not inherit the estate, but his moonstone investments are reportedly quite successful.”

“Very well,” her grandfather agreed with a short nod. “But do remember, we cannot appear desperate. The Starspun legacy demands a certain standard be maintained, even in difficult circumstances.”

Her grandmother’s lips curved into a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, my dear. Dignity above all else.” Then she raised her voice, calling out, “Lady Titterleaf.” She lifted a hand in greeting to a woman whose extravagant skirts billowed with countless silk flowers that swayed with magical life. “How delightful to see you.”

“And you as well, Lady Starspun,” the woman replied, her gaze flicking curiously to Iris. “I see you have your granddaughter with you today.”

“Indeed. She is in our care for the season,” her grandmother said smoothly. “Now that her parents have seen her settled here, they have returned home, as was always the arrangement.”

Lady Titterleaf nodded, though her expression suggested she was mentally cataloging this information to dissect later with her circle of friends. Iris had no doubt she would hear this news repeated to her through the whispers of the tea house tomorrow. “How thoughtful of them to see her safely delivered. And how are you finding Bloomhaven, my dear? I understand you’ve secured quite the unique position with Lady Rivenna Rowanwood?”

“I am honored by Lady Rivenna’s interest in my abilities,” Iris replied, the words feeling stiff on her tongue despite her best efforts to sound natural.

“Quite remarkable,” Lady Titterleaf said, her lips forming a smile that didn’t reach the calculating gleam in her eyes. “And to think, everyone had quite given up hope that she would ever select an apprentice at all. I’m sure she has much to teach you. Though I’m certain your grandparents have explained that such an apprenticeship should not distract from your primary purpose this season.”

Iris felt a gentle but warning squeeze on her arm from her grandfather. “Lady Rivenna has been most accommodating,” he interjected smoothly. “She understands perfectly the importance of social engagements during the Bloom Season.”

The conversation continued for another few minutes, touching on the weather, upcoming events, and thinly veiled gossip about a young lord who had apparently fallen into Mirror Lake while trying to impress a group of ladies.

They had just bid Lady Titterleaf farewell when two garden pixies tumbled through the air in a fierce tussle over a sprig of wildflowers. Their aerial battle spiraled downward, ending with both plummeting directly into a muddy patch created by the nearest fountain’s overflow. The impact sent a splash of dirty water arcing toward Iris, who gasped and raised her arms instinctively to shield her face.

“Disgraceful!” her grandmother scolded the pixies, who hung their muddy heads in shame before zipping away. She turned back to Iris with a critical eye. “Thankfully, your face remains unblemished, but your gloves have suffered the consequences of their foolishness.”

Iris turned her hands over and examined the delicate white lace, now marred with several brown splotches. “I can hardly continue to wear these in such a state,” she said, slipping off the soiled gloves with a small grimace. She folded them carefully to contain the mess and tucked them into her reticule. “I’ll have them cleaned later.”

Her grandmother eyed Iris’s bare hands with poorly disguised dismay. “To be seen without gloves … Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Do try to keep your hands folded demurely, at least.”

Iris sighed inwardly. Oh wonderful , she thought. Yet another mark against my already questionable suitability for Bloomhaven society. She was about to reassure her grandmother that surely this minor breach of etiquette wouldn’t cause the social apocalypse she seemed to fear, when another voice called out.

“Lord and Lady Starspun! Good morning to you both.”

Iris turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered young man approaching, accompanied by an elegantly dressed older woman and a girl who appeared to be a little younger than Iris. It took Iris a moment to place the man—the friendly stranger from the pegasus races that she had quite literally run into.

“Lord Blackbriar,” her grandfather replied, inclining his head as Iris’s grandmother nudged Iris a little too sharply in the ribs with her elbow. Ah, yes, she was reminding Iris that this was one of the suitable young lords she was meant to make a good impression upon if the opportunity presented itself. “Lady Blackbriar, Miss Willow,” her grandfather continued, completing his greeting. “A fine morning for a promenade, is it not?”

“Indeed it is,” the young man replied, his smile warm and genuine. His gaze settled on Iris, and recognition flickered in his eyes. “And this must be Lady Iris. I believe we had a brief encounter at the races, though we were not properly introduced. I’m Hadrian Blackbriar.”

The name stirred something in Iris’s memory, and she realized why his voice had seemed vaguely familiar when she nearly collided with him at the races. This was the same man she’d overheard conversing with Lord Jasvian on the terrace at the Opening Ball. Her guard rose instantly, though if she recalled correctly, he hadn’t joined in Lord Jasvian’s disparaging comments about her magic.

“A pleasure to meet you properly, Lord Blackbriar,” Iris replied with a small curtsy, keeping her expression neutral.

“The pleasure is entirely mine,” he said, his smile widening. “Your name has been upon everyone’s lips since your arrival in Bloomhaven, Lady Iris. I’ve been most eagerly anticipating the opportunity to make your acquaintance myself.”

There was something that Iris found immediately likable about his open demeanor. Unlike most of the fae nobility she’d encountered in Bloomhaven, his friendliness seemed entirely without calculation. The introductions continued, with Iris learning that Hadrian’s sister, Willow, was expected to make her debut next season.

“I understand you’re apprenticed to Lady Rivenna,” Lord Hadrian said as the conversation flowed. “How extraordinary. My mother was just remarking how unprecedented such an arrangement is.”

“Lady Rivenna has always been rather …” Lady Blackbriar paused, seemingly searching for an appropriate word, “progressive in her associations.”

“I consider myself extremely fortunate to have been selected,” Iris said carefully.

“I’m sure you are precisely the right person for the position,” Lord Hadrian said warmly. “You would not have been chosen without good reason, regardless of what certain people might suggest.”

Iris’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Certain people, yes. Like Lady Rivenna’s own grandson, Lord Jasvian.”

Hadrian’s expression turned briefly chagrined. “Ah, yes. Whatever my friend has said to you, I must apologize for him. He can be rather … set in his ways.”

“Indeed,” Iris said, her smile tightening somewhat. “That is one way of describing him.”

As her grandparents and Lady Blackbriar engaged in their own conversation about an upcoming ball, Lord Hadrian asked Iris about her experience at The Charmed Leaf thus far. His genuine interest in her responses caught her off guard. Most conversations with Bloomhaven’s elite felt more like carefully choreographed dances than actual exchanges. He inquired about her magic, calling her demonstration at the Opening Ball ‘uniquely beautiful,’ and asked about how she’d discovered her ability—though Iris delicately sidestepped that particular question without actually answering it.

“Iris, my dear,” her grandfather’s voice interrupted, “Lady Blackbriar was just mentioning their family’s upcoming ball.”

“Indeed,” Lady Blackbriar said with a gracious smile. “We would be delighted if you would join us.”

“How lovely,” Iris’s grandmother replied. “We would be most?—”

“Rosavyn! Aurelise! Do slow down, for stars’ sake!”

Iris turned at the familiar voice, her stomach performing an unwelcome flip. Lord Jasvian Rowanwood strode along the path behind them, looking distinctly irritated as he followed two young women who had nearly reached their group. Rosavyn, her face radiant with delight, hurried forward with a younger girl who bore a striking resemblance to her.

“Iris!” Rosavyn exclaimed, eschewing formality entirely. “How wonderful to see you here!”

“ Lady Iris,” Lord Jasvian corrected stiffly as he caught up to his sisters, his gaze moving from Iris to Hadrian and back again, narrowing slightly.

Rosavyn rolled her eyes. “Do forgive my brother’s tedious adherence to protocol. Iris, this is my sister, Aurelise. Aurelise, this is Iris—the one I told you about.”

The younger girl curtseyed, her movements graceful. “Pleased to meet you, my lady.”

The adults exchanged greetings, and soon the conversation had split once more—the elder generation discussing some upcoming social event while Rosavyn asked Willow about her favorite places to sketch in Bloomhaven and Aurelise listened politely. This left Iris standing somewhat awkwardly between Hadrian and Jasvian, the tension that radiated from the latter almost palpable.

“I see you’ve been getting acquainted with Hadrian,” Jasvian observed, his tone carefully neutral in a way that suggested significant effort.

“Lord Blackbriar has been most welcoming,” Iris replied, equally careful. “A refreshing change from some of my earlier encounters in Bloomhaven.”

Lord Hadrian chuckled. “I was just apologizing for your frequent lack of social graces.”

“Which was hardly your place,” Lord Jasvian said, his jaw tightening.

“Someone had to do it,” Hadrian replied good-naturedly.

“Lord Blackbriar has been kind enough to take a more charitable view of my paper-folding magic than certain others have expressed,” Iris said, unable to resist the slight barb.

“Indeed?” Lord Jasvian’s eyebrow arched. “And what exactly did you find so captivating about Lady Iris’s abilities, Hadrian?”

“I found her artistry and precision remarkable,” Hadrian replied. “There’s something quite enchanting about magic that takes something entirely ordinary and reveals its extraordinary potential.”

Before Iris could reply, Rosavyn suddenly gasped. “Oh! Look at that!” She pointed toward a clearing where a collection of water sprites were dancing across the surface of a small pond, their movements painting glowing patterns that hung suspended in the air. “Lord and Lady Starspun, you simply must see this. It only happens when the morning light hits the water at precisely the right angle.”

With remarkable deftness—and for reasons Iris could not fathom—Rosavyn managed to guide all but Lord Jasvian toward the display, leaving Iris alone with the very person she had hoped most to avoid.

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably.

“Hadrian seems quite taken with you,” Jasvian finally said, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.

“He has been perfectly polite,” Iris replied. “Though I understand that concept might be foreign to you.”

“There is a difference between politeness and whatever display that was,” Jasvian said, nodding in the direction Hadrian had gone. “He is not usually so … effusive.”

“Perhaps he simply recognizes that not all magic needs to serve a practical purpose to have value,” Iris said, her fingers curling into her skirts.

“Is that what you discussed? Your magic?” The question sounded casual, but there was an intensity to his gaze that betrayed his interest.

“Among other things.” She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to be deliberately vague, except that his obvious curiosity gave her a small sense of satisfaction.

“I see.” Jasvian’s jaw worked. “And I suppose your grandparents approve of this newfound friendship?”

“We’ve barely exchanged a dozen sentences, my lord. I would hardly call that a friendship just yet. Though I hardly think it’s any of your concern who my grandparents do or do not approve of.” Iris felt her temper rising. “Though I’m certain they’d prefer almost anyone to the man who publicly insulted their granddaughter.”

“I merely spoke the truth as I saw it,” Jasvian said stiffly.

“The truth?” Iris let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You called me a half-breed with diluted magic. You questioned whether I belonged in society at all. That was not truth—it was prejudice wrapped in arrogance.”

Jasvian inhaled a slow, steadying breath. “I may have been unnecessarily harsh in my assessment.”

“How magnanimous of you to admit it,” Iris replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Shall I express my eternal gratitude now, or would you prefer I compose a formal letter of thanks?”

“This is precisely why conversation with you is impossible,” he hissed, leaning slightly closer. “You twist every word?—”

“I twist nothing,” Iris cut in, matching his intensity. “You made your contempt perfectly clear that night, and nothing in your behavior since has suggested any change of heart. So please, spare me your concerns about any friendship that may develop with Lord Blackbriar. At least he sees me as a person worthy of basic courtesy instead of?—”

Her words cut off abruptly as a glittering pink fox darted between them, pursued by a frantic young boy. The creature’s sudden appearance startled Iris, causing her to step backward onto the hem of her gown. She teetered precariously, arms flailing for balance, before Jasvian’s hand shot out to catch her. His arm curved securely around her waist, his other hand clasping hers firmly as he steadied her.

They were still for a single, startled moment, his body almost flush with hers. Then, as quickly as he’d caught her, Jasvian released Iris, stepping back as if the contact had burned him. He flexed his hand at his side, opening and closing his fingers as if trying to rid himself of the sensation of touching her.

The gesture sent a fresh wave of anger through Iris. Did he find the mere touch of her hand so distasteful? Was her half-human blood somehow contaminating to his precious fae sensibilities?

“Iris, dear!” Her grandmother’s voice cut through the tension. “Do come see this marvelous display.”

Iris stepped back, taking a shuddering breath. She plastered on a smile and turned toward her grandmother. “Coming, Grandmother.”

The water sprites continued to dart across the pond’s surface, but Iris barely registered their artistry, her skin still tingling where Lord Jasvian’s hand had gripped hers, the sensation of his arm around her waist lingering with annoying persistence.

She was grateful when the encounter drew to a close. Farewells were exchanged, and each party offered the appropriate courtesies. “Lady Iris,” Lord Hadrian said, his smile warm and genuine, “it was truly a pleasure. I hope we shall have the opportunity to speak again soon.”

“The pleasure was—” Iris’s voice caught momentarily, her thoughts still tangled in the previous interaction. She blinked once, quickly composing herself. “—entirely mine, Lord Blackbriar. I look forward to our next meeting.”

“Such a lovely morning for a promenade,” Iris’s grandmother remarked quietly as they walked away. “I do believe this outing has been most successful.”

Iris murmured her agreement, keeping her eyes firmly ahead of her as an unsettling energy coursed through her body, a peculiar tingling sensation that might have been lingering anger—or perhaps something else entirely.