Page 2 of Tempests & Tea Leaves (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #1)

Chapter Two

Iris Starspun had never seen a building breathe before, but The Charmed Leaf Tea House seemed to inhale and exhale as she stepped inside. Delicate vines crept along the walls, occasionally reaching out to brush against patrons, flowers bloomed and faded along the wainscoting in rhythmic cycles, and the steam rising from teapots sitting on various tables around the room curled into momentary images before disappearing. The comforting aroma of baked goods and the earthy fragrance of exotic herbal teas created an atmosphere that felt both welcoming and magical. Under different circumstances, she might have found it delightful.

But circumstances being what they were—namely, that every fae eye in the establishment was fixed upon her family with varying degrees of horror and fascination—Iris found herself wishing the tea house was considerably less enchanting and considerably more prone to convenient sinkholes.

A young serving girl hurried past, an empty tray in her hands. Her perfectly round ears marked her as human, unlike Iris’s own slightly pointed ones—not nearly as elegant as the graceful points of true fae, but enough to broadcast her mixed heritage to anyone who looked. The girl stepped swiftly out of the way as a fae woman in a pale green gown approached. The tea house’s hostess, presumably. She welcomed the Starspuns with a strained smile and gestured for them to follow her.

As they walked deeper into the tea house, Iris wondered if the morning heat had made her light-headed. The interior seemed to stretch and expand around the table they were heading toward, as if the very walls were breathing outward to make room. It must be a trick of the light, the abrupt shift from the bright Bloomhaven morning to the tea house’s interior. Or perhaps merely her imagination, heightened by the weight of a hundred stares. Yet even as they settled into their seats, a gentle brightening seemed to occur above them, like a faelight focused solely on their table.

Taking care to keep her chin up so as to appear unconcerned by the attention, Iris turned to her mother. “This is horrible,” she whispered. “Why are we here? We should have remained at Starspun House until the Opening Ball.”

Her mother forced a smile. “Your father thought it best to make our presence known early. Let the gossip run its course before the Opening Ball. Hopefully, by then, another scandal will have surfaced.”

Well of course, if her father thought it best, then that was what they had to do. Iris exhaled slowly, longing for a time when her parents would engage in playful debate, her mother matching her father opinion for opinion instead of merely echoing his wishes.

“I doubt it,” Iris murmured as conversation restarted around them and the strange light that had seemed to spotlight their table dimmed and disappeared. The glances in their direction didn’t cease though. Back home, where the population was nearly equal parts human and fae, marriages between the races raised few eyebrows. Her parents’ union, while not entirely commonplace, had been accepted with little more than passing interest.

But Bloomhaven was entirely the opposite. Here, the human families all belonged to the working class or lower, and her father had warned her that relations between the two races were still viewed with disdain by proper society. “There won’t be another scandal to eclipse a half-human debutante,” she added. “Not unless the High Lady herself elopes with a garden gnome.”

“Iris.” Her father’s tone held a warning, though Iris could have sworn she caught a slight twitch at the corner of her mother’s mouth.

“You know I don’t want to be here,” Iris quietly reminded her father.

“I am well aware of this,” he answered in a low tone, “just as you are well aware that the Bloom Season is your only chance for a better future.”

“Father, I am your only heir. If I am to inherit everything you?—”

“We will not speak of this again,” her father hissed. Iris flinched at his sharp tone, so unlike his usual measured demeanor. While her mother had grown quiet years ago, Iris had always enjoyed open discourse with her father, freely sharing her thoughts and feelings. But he’d been tense ever since their arrival in Bloomhaven. Even at dinner with her grandparents last night, her attempts at pleasant conversation had been met with uncomfortable silence and disapproving looks from everyone present.

Iris bit her tongue and refrained from saying what she truly felt: the Bloom Season was most certainly not her only chance for a better future. The whole notion of it had always struck her as ridiculous. That the fae elite would leave their sprawling country estates and travel from across the United Fae Isles just to parade their newly manifested offspring before society seemed the height of absurdity. They would dance and flatter, whisper behind silk fans, and engage in a ruthless game of matrimonial strategy as the Solstice Ball approached, the date after which betrothals were expected to be announced like battle victories.

Or so her father had always told her. Her father, who had never wished to return to Bloomhaven. Her father, who had suddenly changed his mind when Iris had surprised them all by manifesting. Only then had he explained to her that the Bloom Season was about magic as well. At the very heart of the United Fae Isles, Bloomhaven sat at the convergence of seven major ley lines, creating a wellspring of magical energy unmatched anywhere else in the realm. The concentration of raw power nurtured and strengthened newly manifested abilities—and would continue to do so right up until the Summer Solstice.

And Iris’s unexpected magic could certainly do with some strengthening. With that, she agreed. She’d never had the ability to use any magic at all, unlike full-blooded fae children who could perform basic magic. For them, manifesting was a bonus. It was when, around age seventeen to nineteen, their additional magical abilities revealed themselves, typically reflecting the magical tradition of their lineage. Earth magic, weather manipulation, illusion-weaving, or any of the other hereditary gifts that distinguished the great fae families. They also earned the right to be addressed as “Lord” and “Lady” upon manifestation, elevated from the simpler “Miss” and “Master” of their youth—a formal recognition of their transition into magical adulthood within fae society.

For Iris, the possibility of manifesting had always been there. Half-fae children were rare enough that no one quite knew what to expect regarding manifestation. Some did, some didn’t, and as her nineteenth birthday came and went without a whisper of power, Iris had become more and more convinced that it would never happen.

And then there had been the bookstore incident. Iris winced inwardly at the memory.

But the bookstore pixies had all been rescued, the owner of the shop generously compensated, and Iris’s wounds had quickly been healed by magic. After that was all dealt with, Iris’s father had announced his grand plan: the three of them would travel to Bloomhaven so that Iris’s magic could reach its full potential, and, more importantly, so that she could secure an advantageous match with a fae lord.

Oh, and so that she could finally meet her grandparents, though that certainly hadn’t been at the top of her father’s list of reasons to return. The older Starspuns, like several other elite fae families—and, of course, the middle-class fae and human professionals of Bloomhaven—had chosen some years ago to live permanently in Bloomhaven. Iris’s father had never seemed eager to visit them.

“Oh, that’s her,” Iris’s father whispered suddenly, his posture straightening. “Lady Rivenna Rowanwood.”

Iris sat a little straighter, hating herself for wanting to impress the regal, silver-haired woman who now approached their table. Her father had told her all about the Rowanwoods—the most influential family not just in Bloomhaven, but possibly across all the United Fae Isles. Their power lay primarily in earth magic, a gift that had made them wealthy beyond measure when their ancestor first discovered he could sense lumyrite deposits deep within the ground.

Lumyrite crystal was essential to fae society, powering everything from the faelights that illuminated their homes to the enchanted fountains that graced Bloomhaven’s squares. Iris had even read about dresses embedded with lumyrite dust that could change color at will. Without lumyrite, much of their everyday convenience magic—as well as many of the elegant enchantments that adorned the homes and garments of the elite—would cease to function. And the Rowanwoods controlled nearly all of it. Iris’s father hadn’t precisely used the phrase “obscenely wealthy,” but Iris could read between the lines.

“Lady Rivenna resides in Bloomhaven throughout the year, does she not?” her mother inquired softly, arranging her skirts.

“Indeed,” Iris’s father replied. “Her daughter-in-law and five grandchildren will likely be with her at Rowanwood House for the season. Her eldest grandson now stands as head of the family since her son’s unfortunate passing in the mines several years past.” He lowered his voice further. “Though if Lady Rivenna remains true to her character, I dare say she considers herself the true authority of the Rowanwood line.”

“Hush, my dear,” her mother whispered urgently. “She approaches!”

But before Lady Rivenna Rowanwood could reach their table, a commotion erupted near the kitchen. Something small and glowing shot through the air, trailing sparks and causing several patrons to duck. Lady Rivenna turned swiftly and hurried toward the disturbance, calling out, “That’s quite enough of that, you troublesome little sprite!”

She reached up and snatched the luminous creature mid-somersault as it twirled between the flowers draped across the ceiling. Cupping the tiny being carefully between her palms, she slipped quickly through a doorway at the back of the shop into what appeared to be the kitchen. Iris watched as the other patrons returned to their conversations and tea as if nothing unusual had occurred.

The woman in green returned to their table. “Might I tempt you with some refreshment to accompany your tea?” she inquired politely. “Our kitchen has prepared several delicacies this morning.”

“Oh!” Iris’s mother exclaimed, her gaze lifting. “I see the offerings there.” She gestured toward the far wall where an elegant board hung, surrounded by a frame of carved vines. Upon its surface, names of various baked goods appeared in flowing golden script. Around the edges of the board, delicate illustrations of pastries, scones, and steaming teacups moved subtly—a scone breaking apart, steam rising from a teacup.

“Are there different varieties of tea available?” her mother asked hesitantly. “Perhaps a selection of blends?”

“Oh, the tea house generally decides what tea is best for each patron,” the hostess explained with practiced patience.

“Ah.” Her mother’s brows drew together in polite confusion, and Iris didn’t blame her. Since when did buildings have opinions on what drinks to serve? “I see.”

Sensing her mother’s discomfort and noticing her father was still frowning at the board, Iris added, “What would you recommend for first-time visitors? We’re entirely unfamiliar with the house specialties.”

With a thin-lipped smile, the woman said, “We are known for our scones.”

“Lovely,” Iris’s father said, his attention on the hostess once more. “We’ll have some of those, then,” he added with a smile that Iris recognized as his public mask—bright and entirely artificial.

The whispers continued around them as they attempted polite conversation. Iris noticed her father’s voice growing incrementally louder each time he mentioned how proud he was of her manifestation and her upcoming presentation at the Opening Ball.

When the human serving girl arrived with their tea and scones, she caught Iris’s eye and offered a genuine smile. Iris found herself smiling back, feeling the first hint of warmth since entering the tea house. At least someone wasn’t looking at her as if she were some sort of magical curiosity. “Thank you,” she said as the girl placed a delicate porcelain cup before her—lavender with gold filigree around the rim and tiny vines painted along the handle.

Iris lifted the teacup, inhaling the fragrant steam. Notes of hibiscus and blackberry and something zesty—orange peel? When she sipped, the flavor bloomed across her tongue, warm yet refreshing and somehow exactly what she craved without having known it. She set the cup down, noticing the tea leaves swirling at the bottom. “They haven’t strained the tea,” she remarked quietly to her mother, slightly perplexed.

Her mother glanced uncertainly at her father, who leaned forward. “It is tradition here. The older generation once believed fortunes could be read in tea leaf patterns. Few practice such arts now, of course, but Lady Rivenna is known for her appreciation of tradition. Hence, the tea is served in the old manner.”

“Sip carefully, dear,” her mother advised. “So as not to disturb the leaves.”

“I believe the teacups themselves may be charmed,” her father added, “to prevent the leaves from being caught up in the tea while drinking.”

The scones, Iris had to admit, were extraordinary. Light and buttery with a perfect crumb that practically melted on her tongue. As they ate, the tension at their table gradually eased. Perhaps it was the tea’s soothing qualities, or simply the comfort of familiar family conversation, but Iris found herself relaxing despite the occasional curious glances from nearby patrons.

The atmosphere between them had been growing steadily more strained since they’d departed their home on one of the western-most isles, the demands of travel wearing on their nerves as they journeyed across the United Fae Isles. Their lengthy passage by ship followed by days of carriage travel had left them all exhausted and irritable.

The wealthiest families would have arrived in Bloomhaven via ley line gliders, of course. Enchanted vessels that hovered above ancient magical currents and carried passengers at extraordinary speeds when guided by specially gifted flow-weavers. Iris had glimpsed what must have been The Confluence that very morning, a circular pavilion at Bloomhaven’s eastern edge where these magical conveyances docked after riding the ethereal tides.

Meanwhile, Iris’s family had endured weeks of travel from their distant island to reach this nexus at the heart of the United Fae Isles. Had they possessed the means to secure passage on a ley glider, Iris realized, their entire journey might have been condensed to mere hours instead of the grueling weeks they’d endured.

But now, after savoring scones that seemed to melt on the tongue and tea that soothed their frayed nerves, they had settled into the first comfortable conversation since their arrival. Iris’s father’s shoulders lowered from their defensive posture, and her mother’s smile grew more genuine as they discussed the charming architecture they’d passed on their journey through Bloomhaven that morning.

Still, it was with some relief that they made their way outside after finishing their refreshments, leaving the oppressive weight of curious stares and barely concealed whispers behind. Iris breathed deeply, noting once again that the air seemed fresher here in Bloomhaven, and the colors brighter. The town truly was saturated with magic unlike anywhere she had been before. Having spent most of her life in the quiet university town where her parents had met, with only occasional short journeys to neighboring areas, she found Bloomhaven almost overwhelming in its magical presence.

Clusters of flowers whispered to each other in the flowerbeds alongside the streets, cobblestones subtly shifted colors, and there was even the occasional pegasus flying overhead. Iris knew of pegasi, of course, but in the way that someone who didn’t live near the ocean knew of sea creatures. She’d never personally witnessed one and had only ever seen drawings of anyone riding them. Where she had lived, the most exciting thing anyone ever rode upon was a horse with charmed horse shoes to give it extra speed.

They had barely taken more than a few steps away from The Charmed Leaf Tea House when a sharp voice cut through the air. “Lord Errisen Starspun? Can it really be? I heard the name Starspun, but I had to see for myself.”

They stopped abruptly as a woman crossed the road toward them. She was tall and striking, her pumpkin orange hair piled atop her head in an elaborate arrangement secured with jeweled pins. She appeared to be of an age with Iris’s father—perhaps a few years older.

“Clemenbell?” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Lady Brightcrest. It’s been quite some time. Allow me to introduce my wife, Matilda Starspun, and my daughter, Lady Iris Starspun.”

Iris still felt a peculiar flutter whenever she heard herself addressed as ‘Lady.’ After years of being ‘Miss Starspun,’ the elevation to ‘Lady’ still felt like a borrowed garment, one not quite fitted to her yet.

“Indeed, it is you!” Lady Brightcrest said, stopping in front of them as her eyes swept up and down Iris’s father before moving to examine her mother and then Iris herself. “And your—family.”

“News travels fast,” Iris commented quietly.

“It’s the gossip birds, dear.” The woman’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ah, there is one now!” She pointed to a creature perched on a branch near the tea house—sleek and glossy, about the size of a starling but with a longer, more elegant tail. Its feathers appeared black at first glance, but as it turned its head, the sunlight revealed an iridescent sheen of purple-blue that rippled across its plumage. “They do fly quickly, and all about town they can be heard squawking one thing.”

Iris blinked, waiting, but the woman held back the news like a cat toying with a particularly entertaining mouse.

“And what is that?” her father asked, his tone carefully neutral.

There was a cruel glint in the woman’s eye as she replied, “Starspun half-breed.”