“I–” He raised a hand, head tilting as if searching for why that wasn’t right. “Kahve is different.”
“How so?”
He stirred the small pot, lips pressed thin. A sharp, acrid scent filled the room, layered with deep, earthy notes that drowned out the herbs overhead.
“They’re roasted,” he blurted at last. “The fruit is roasted, not dried. Teas aren’t cooked before dehydration.”
Laughter slipped free. “Even so, I still think it’s more like tea.”
Surprise lifted his cheeks into a smile. He pulled the pot from the flame and let it rest, easing the boil.
“This gallery serves the royal house directly, Your Majesty. If you ever wish for food or drink from Draconia, all you need do is ask.” His gaze lingered on the darkened liquid. “The main kitchen oversees meals, of course, but if you crave rider’s tea or pickled herring, I am more than happy to oblige.”
“Traveler’s tea?” Surprise sparked through me. “The salted peppermint?”
His eyes brightened with his smile. “The very same. I’ve the recipe straight from the Draconis kitchens.”
“Tonight, before I retire.” A grin curved my mouth. “I would love a cup.”
“Then it shall be done!” He bustled around the room, grabbing a simple mug and a square of cheesecloth. He paused, frowning at the vessel. “Would you prefer earthenware, or something more proper?”
“What you have is perfect.” Warmth settled in my chest at the thoughtfulness. Kallias favored mugs for his cider and kahve, though when he entertained guests, finery mattered more. Power demanded display, not comfort.
He held the cheesecloth over the mug and poured the dark liquid through it. The fine weave trapped the spent grounds, and when he lifted it away and passed the cup to me, the scent and color matched Kallias’ favored beverage.
So unlike the bean tea I’d brewed for him in Draconia.
“Thank you,” I called as I left, slipping back into the winding corridors.
Drink in hand, I smiled when I spotted Greaves stationed before a closed door. If I ever questioned where to find my husband, his presence always provided the answer.
“Good day,” I greeted as I approached.
His gaze skimmed Claus, my dress, then settled on the cup. “My queen.”
“He’s alone?”
“At present.”
I stepped forward to open the door, but he held out his hand for the drink. With a resigned sigh, I surrendered it. He studied the dark ripples, sniffed once, then took a sip. His eyes stayed on me over the rim as he rolled the scalding liquid across his tongue. After a curt nod, the cup returned to my waiting hands.
I pushed the door open and closed it softly behind me, leaving both guards in the hall.
Kallias leaned over his desk, fingers kneading his temples. Parchments covered the surface, sorted into neat stacks, each pinned with a different paperweight. He dragged a hand down his face and tapped a scribbled line.
“As far south as Soreli. It’s impossible to know how many there are.”
“The Velli?”
His head snapped up, a lock of silvered hair slipping across his brow. His gaze swept over me with a frown. “Nienna, are you well?”
A scoff left me as I circled the desk, set the cup down, and braced a hip against the edge to study the reports.
If they were tracked that far south, they were nearly at the port. Soreli sat only a day’s journey north. If they reached a major harbor, the world lay open to them.
Draconia and the island nations knew to fire on Velli ships before they made landfall. But a Radaanian vessel? That posedanother threat. If they slipped aboard unnoticed, my homeland stood at risk, as did anyone daring to trade with Radaan.
The economic fallout chilled me.
