Page 8 of Tempests & Tea Leaves (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #1)

Chapter Eight

The clock in the drawing room of Starspun House ticked away with merciless precision, each second punctuated by a sharp click that seemed to mock Iris as she paced from one end of the room to the other. She paused at the window for the fifth time in as many minutes, pressing her fingertips against the glass as she gazed longingly at the street below. Though Starspun House occupied a less prestigious corner of Bloomhaven—not in the central or wealthiest district, which now made perfect sense to Iris—there was still a comfortable flow of activity in the street below. Elegant carriages rolled past occasionally, while small groups of people and couples wandered arm in arm, enjoying the pleasant spring morning.

She turned from the window and crossed the room once more. Unlike the warm, cluttered home she’d left behind, Starspun House was all formal elegance and untouchable perfection—polished surfaces, stiff brocade, and gleaming silver that seemed more for display than use. Even the floral arrangements were pristine and scentless, preserved by magic in a state of perpetual bloom that somehow rendered them lifeless.

“Iris, please sit down,” her mother said without looking up from her light-weaving. The delicate strands of enchanted light refused to hold their pattern between her fingers as she attempted to perfect the spells, clearly more difficult for her without any magic of her own. “Your constant movement is rather distracting.”

“How can I possibly sit still?” Iris drummed her fingers against her skirts. “We’ve been trapped in this house all morning.”

Her grandparents had departed for their promenade at Elderbloom Park over an hour ago, pointedly not inviting them to join. “After last night’s unfortunate display,” her grandmother had said with a thin smile, “perhaps it would be best if you remained here today. Allow the initial whispers to die down before presenting yourself in public again.”

Translation: hide your shameful face until people have found something new to gossip about.

Her father, who sat stiffly in the chair across from her mother while pretending to read a newspaper, sighed heavily. “You exaggerate the situation, Iris. No one is keeping you prisoner here. Your grandparents are merely being cautious. The social fallout from your confrontation with Lord Jasvian Rowanwood could be significant.”

Lord Jasvian Rowanwood. His name alone caused a flare of anger in her chest. That arrogant, disdainful face came to mind immediately—the way his dark eyes had swept over her with such dismissal, how his voice had dripped with condescension as he’d deemed her magic “paper-folding nonsense” and called her a “half-breed.”

But beneath the anger lay the sharp sting of something else. His words had sliced deeply because they’d echoed her own fears. Her magic was frivolous compared to the abilities of full-blooded fae. Her father had diluted the Starspun bloodline by marrying her mother. The great celestial magic of her ancestors had indeed been reduced to mere paper manipulation in her hands.

“All the more reason I should be out there,” Iris insisted, resuming her pacing. “If I’m to repair the damage to my reputation and present myself as a worthy prospect to the eligible gentlemen of Bloomhaven, I can’t be confined to Starspun House.”

The weight of their conversation from the previous night pressed down on her shoulders even as she tried to outpace it with her restless movement. If she couldn’t find another solution, marriage to some wealthy lord was her only option. The thought made her stomach twist with dread. To be bound forever to a man who viewed her primarily as a means to continue his bloodline, who would likely choose her only because the Starspun name still carried the weight of respectability and ancient lineage worthy of alliance. How could she possibly bear such a fate?

Her father shook his head, his expression grave. “After last night, we need to proceed carefully. Your grandparents went out this morning specifically to gauge the reaction in society. When they return, we’ll have a better sense of our standing.”

With a sigh, Iris returned to the window, watching as a small flock of those awful gossip birds flew past, their dreadful squawking indecipherable but clearly excited as they darted from rooftop to rooftop. With any luck, they were now spreading some new piece of social misfortune instead of shrieking about her own indiscretion.

She turned away from the window and eyed the formal settee she’d abandoned earlier with its rigid back and thinly cushioned seat. Everything in this room was designed for appearance rather than comfort—much like the facade her grandparents presented to society. The warm spring sunlight that streamed through the windows seemed unable to penetrate the room’s austere atmosphere.

She turned away from the window and dropped into a chair beside a potted fern, her energy momentarily exhausted though her mind continued to race. The chair, like all the furniture, was clearly designed for perfect posture rather than relaxation, its ornate wooden arms unyielding beneath her fingers. Even the very air in the room seemed to demand formality, as if casual conversation or genuine emotion might somehow tarnish the perfect surfaces.

As she picked up the volume of poetry she’d abandoned earlier and began aimlessly leafing through it, one of the fern’s delicate fronds stretched outward, brushing against her wrist with a touch so gentle she might have imagined it. She glanced down as the plant appeared to reach for her deliberately, its leaves curling softly around her fingers in what felt remarkably like comfort.

“Thank you,” she murmured, stroking the frond with her fingertip.

Her mother looked up, a question forming on her lips, but before she could speak, the drawing room door opened. “Lady Rivenna Rowanwood,” announced the butler, his face betraying a flicker of astonishment that his impassive voice managed to conceal.

All three Starspuns shot to their feet as the formidable matriarch of the Rowanwood family swept into the room.

“Lady Rowanwood,” Iris’s father said, executing a bow that was perhaps a touch too deep. “What an unexpected honor.”

“Indeed.” Lady Rivenna’s sharp gaze swept the room before settling on Iris. “I trust I find you recovered from last night’s excitement, Lady Iris?”

Iris swallowed, unsure how to respond. Should she apologize for her heated exchange with Lord Jasvian? Express regret for her part in the chandelier incident? “I … that is …”

“Tea!” her mother exclaimed. “We simply must have tea.” With a swift motion, she reached back for the long cord of braided silk hanging against the wall and gave it a firm tug.

Lady Rivenna lowered herself into a chair with the easy confidence of one accustomed to commanding every space she occupied. “I must say, that was quite the display of temper last night. From both parties involved.”

Iris’s throat went dry. “My lady, I?—”

“Do you know,” Lady Rivenna continued as if Iris hadn’t spoken, “I cannot recall the last time I saw my grandson lose control of his magic like that. He insists it was not him, of course. I, on the other hand, find myself rather convinced that it was both of you.”

“I’m so terribly sorry about that,” Iris’s father said quickly. “We will, of course, cover any damages?—”

Lady Rivenna waved away his concerns, which was just as well, given that Iris had no idea how her father would cover said damages. “Nonsense. That chandelier was ghastly anyway. The High Lady has been looking for an excuse to replace it for years.” Her lips curved. “Though I doubt she expected quite such a dramatic catalyst.”

A parlourmaid arrived with the tea service, and Iris’s mother busied herself preparing cups with slightly trembling hands. When she passed one to Lady Rivenna, the older woman took a delicate sip, then pursed her lips. “Ah. Well. I suppose not everyone can maintain The Charmed Leaf’s standards.”

“At least we don’t have to drink the leaves,” Iris muttered into her own teacup before she could stop herself.

Her mother released a barely audible gasp, but Lady Rivenna’s eyes sparked with something that might have been amusement. “My dear, if you find yourself consuming the leaves rather than reading them, I fear you’ve misunderstood the entire practice.”

Iris hesitated with her teacup halfway to her lips, but before she could think of an appropriate response, Lady Rivenna forged on. “Now, let me not waste time with any more pleasantries. The events of last evening have solidified something I’ve been considering since you first entered my tea house.” She turned to address Iris directly. “Lady Iris, I would like to offer you the position of apprentice at The Charmed Leaf Tea House.”

Iris stared at her, certain she had misheard. Carefully, she lowered her cup to its saucer. “I … beg your pardon?”

“An apprenticeship,” Lady Rivenna repeated, her tone suggesting she was unaccustomed to repeating herself. “I am not getting any younger, despite my best efforts, and I have known for years that The Charmed Leaf requires a successor. Someone who can learn its ways, who can eventually assume responsibility for its operation when I am no longer able to do so. I have simply been waiting for the right person.”

“I, uh …” Iris glanced at her parents, who appeared equally stunned. Her gaze swung back to Lady Rivenna. “Forgive me, my lady, but … you’re offering this position to me ?”

“Indeed. It is a position that many have sought over the years. The Charmed Leaf is not merely a tea house—it stands at the very intersection of information, influence, and magic, at the beating heart of Bloomhaven society. Its proprietress holds a unique position of respect and … shall we say, insight.” A slight smile curved her lips. “The financial benefits are not inconsiderable either.”

At the mention of financial benefits, Iris felt her pulse quicken. Could this be it? A path to independence that would also secure her family’s future? Had providence delivered the very solution she had been hoping to find, presenting itself far sooner than she might have hoped?

“Lady Rivenna,” her father said carefully, his brow furrowed, “while we are naturally honored by your offer, I must express some concern. Iris’s purpose in Bloomhaven this season is quite specific. She has social obligations that must take priority?—”

“Social obligations,” Lady Rivenna echoed, her tone dry. “By which you mean securing an advantageous match.”

Iris’s father cleared his throat. “Well, yes. That is the tradition of the Bloom Season, after all.”

“And how do you imagine that pursuit is progressing after last night’s exchange with my grandson?”

A pained expression crossed her father’s face, and Iris felt a fresh wave of guilt.

“The apprenticeship need not interfere with Lady Iris’s social calendar,” Lady Rivenna continued smoothly. “Indeed, her position at The Charmed Leaf may well enhance her standing. As my chosen successor, she would be viewed with new interest by certain families who might otherwise hesitate to form connections with someone of her … unique heritage.”

“And you mentioned … financial benefits?”

“The tea house generates considerable income,” Lady Rivenna confirmed. “As my apprentice, Iris would receive a stipend immediately, with her share increasing as she assumes more responsibility.”

Iris felt her initial spark of hope dim slightly. A mere stipend would scarcely address the mountain of debt her father had described. Would such a modest sum truly be sufficient to maintain them until she advanced to a position of greater responsibility and remuneration? Might their creditors be willing to extend further patience if they saw a legitimate prospect of eventual repayment?

“But why Iris?” her father asked, giving voice to the question that had been echoing in Iris’s own mind. “Surely there are many worthy candidates. Full-blooded fae from established families who have been waiting for such an opportunity.”

Lady Rivenna’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you suggesting your daughter is unworthy of the position, Lord Starspun?”

“No! Of course not,” he said hastily.

“I believe he means to say that surely there are others more qualified,” Iris said, echoing the very doubts that circled in her own thoughts. “Someone with more practical magic, or?—”

“More qualified? You mean someone who fits more neatly into society’s expectations? Someone who wouldn’t cause the gossip birds to molt in shock?” Lady Rivenna smiled. “My dear, that is one of the reasons I’m interested in you.”

Iris frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“The Charmed Leaf requires someone who can see beyond the surface of things. Someone who isn’t afraid to challenge convention.” Her smile widened. “Someone who might suggest that the heir to the Rowanwood fortune merely ‘senses rocks.’”

Iris felt her face flame. “About that?—”

“Oh, don’t apologize. Jasvian could do with someone pointing out his occasional stuffiness. Though perhaps with slightly more subtlety next time.”

“Next time?” Iris’s father’s voice cracked slightly.

“Of course. The Season has barely begun, after all.”

“I’m still not sure,” Iris said, “how seeing beyond the surface of things or challenging convention?—”

“It matters not,” Lady Rivenna interjected with a dismissive wave of her hand. “To be perfectly honest, you have already satisfied the most crucial requirement: the tea house itself selected you the moment you crossed its threshold.”

A beat of silence followed her pronouncement. “The tea house … chose me?”

“Indeed.” Lady Rivenna reached into her elegant reticule and withdrew something small, which she placed on the table beside her teacup.

“What is that?” Iris’s mother asked curiously.

“A petal,” Lady Rivenna said. “Or, more precisely, a paper petal.”

They all stared at the innocuous object in silence. Lady Rivenna appeared to be making some profound connection between this paper petal and Iris’s folding abilities, but surely she hadn’t based such a momentous decision about her successor on the tea house producing a single paper fragment? Such a coincidence could signify any number of things! Iris, however, wasn’t about to voice these doubts. Her mind was already racing with possibilities. This opportunity excited her not merely as a potential path to independence and her family’s salvation, but because the tea house itself fascinated her.

Sitting forward on the edge of her chair, she asked, “What exactly would this apprenticeship entail?”

“I cannot divulge the specifics to anyone but you, Lady Iris,” Lady Rivenna said with a glance at Iris’s parents, “and only after you have accepted the position. But in essence, you would learn everything there is to know about the tea house—its magic, its secrets, its operation. By the time your training concludes, all the knowledge I have cultivated over decades will be yours to wield.”

“And when would this apprenticeship begin?” her father asked.

“Immediately. Time is precious, and there is much to learn.”

Iris couldn’t contain herself any longer. “I want to accept,” she said, sitting forward on the edge of her chair now. “This is an incredible opportunity.”

Her parents exchanged a look that spoke volumes. Her father turned to Lady Rivenna. “Perhaps we might have a moment to discuss this privately?”

“There is nothing to discuss,” Iris insisted. “This is exactly what I need—a purpose beyond merely seeking a husband.”

“Iris,” her mother began gently, “we understand how appealing this offer must seem, especially after … recent revelations. But marriage is still …” She hesitated, glanced at Lady Rivenna, and lowered her voice slightly. “It is still the surest path to security.”

“You must consider this carefully,” her father urged. “What if you were to receive an offer of marriage and accept, only to discover your husband expects to return to his country estate after the Bloom Season? You cannot possibly manage the tea house from a distant property.”

Lady Rivenna cleared her throat. “When I first established The Charmed Leaf, I too had family obligations—young children requiring my attention. For many years, I closed the tea house at the conclusion of each Bloom Season while returning to our country estate, reopening only when most of society gathered in Bloomhaven again. Once the tea house belongs solely to her, Lady Iris would have the freedom to make similar arrangements.”

A tense silence fell over the room. Iris looked between her parents, silently willing them to say yes. Her father’s gaze swept back to Lady Rivenna. “If Iris begins this apprenticeship and circumstances then prove unfavorable, would she be permitted to withdraw from this arrangement?”

“If Lady Iris were to decide this,” she said, and Iris noticed the emphasis Lady Rivenna placed on her name, “then of course she would not be forced to remain.”

Iris’s father considered this in silence for another few moments, then sighed. “If Iris wishes to accept your offer, Lady Rivenna, we will not stand in her way. However, we must insist upon certain conditions.”

“Name them,” Lady Rivenna said, inclining her head.

“First, the apprenticeship must not interfere with her social obligations. She will attend all significant events of the Bloom Season and maintain her place in society.”

“Agreed.”

“And second, she must continue to develop her magic in preparation for the Summer Solstice Grand Ball. Her presentation there is vital.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Lady Rivenna replied. “Her magical growth will only benefit the tea house.”

“Then …” he glanced at Iris’s mother before returning his gaze to Lady Rivenna. “I suppose that is all. We shall support Iris if she wishes to accept your offer.”

Lady Rivenna’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Your conditions are reasonable, Lord Starspun. I accept them.” She turned to Iris. “And you, Lady Iris? Do you accept my offer with these stipulations?”

Iris nodded, a strange sense of exhilaration coursing through her. “I do.”

“Excellent.” Lady Rivenna rose to her feet. “Then I shall expect you at The Charmed Leaf tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock precisely. We have much to cover. Oh, and do wear something practical, dear. The hearth sprites can be quite mischievous with newcomers.”