“Friday.”
“Will I be back for the town meeting?”
“It only takes a few hours to drive there.”
“Then it’s a plan. But that’s one less day I have to learn about tea, so I’ll need your help again tomorrow, all right?”
“That’s fine. We’ll start now. I’m going to teach you how to use a gaiwan.”
“A what?”
“It’s a piece of tea-making equipment.”
“More tea tonight?” I ask, glancing reluctantly at the cabinet.
“You said it yourself—you’re running out of time.”
“Right.” With a heavy sigh, I scoot my chair back, cringing as the feet scrape against the hardwood, and fetch the items from the cabinets as Rowan instructs.
I studythe GPS on my phone, trying to decide which route I want to take. I’m excited for a day trip, and even more excited about the coffee I’m going to buy once we’re on the road.
I like tea, but Ineedcoffee. Yesterday, Rowan urged me to explore Chinese tea. It’s a massive category, and he made me use the gaiwan all day—which turns out to be a little Chinese teapot that gets ridiculously hot and is stupidly difficult to pour without making a mess.
Despite my lack of finesse when it comes to holding the gaiwan, in one afternoon, I tasted thirty-eight teas. Though Rowan swore they all had different flavor notes, to me, theyblended together. In fact, the only teas I specifically remember are the ones Ididn’tlike.
We have so many more to get through, including the Taiwanese teas, Japanese greens, a few more Ceylon teas from Sri Lanka, African black teas, and a few varieties grown on Jeju Island in South Korea. But that’s going to have to wait until tomorrow.
The owl door makes its usual thunking noise as Rowan flies into the kitchen. He lands on his perch and tucks his wings close to his body. “Hudson is almost here with a buggy. Are you ready to leave?”
“Just about.” I stand, finishing the protein bar I’m eating because I’m feeling too lazy to make myself a real breakfast. “I just need to feed Chester.”
My dog dances around my feet as I grab his bowl, far more excited about his meal than I was mine.
As soon as I set the bowl back in the stand, the doorbell rings.
“I’ll meet you at the parking garage,” Rowan promises, and then he flies out the owl door again.
“Hi, Hudson,” I greet the large shifter when I answer the door. “Thank you for picking me up.”
“No problem. You need a ride to the parking garage?”
“That’s right.”
“Where are you headed?” he asks as we walk down the garden path toward the gate. “Anywhere fun?”
I still haven’t trimmed the flowers, so they brush against my legs, uncomfortably cold and wet with dew. It’s almost like they’re scolding me for not tending them, though that’s just a fanciful notion. Plants have emotions, but they’re not sentient like people.
“To Albany.” I almost tell him I’m going to the mage’s college, but then I realize he might ask me why.
Since I don’t have luggage this time, the large shifter has brought a cabriolet similar to Ash’s. His horse is a stout dappled gray with a dark mane—just about the prettiest animal I’ve ever seen.
“He’s beautiful,” I say to Hudson.
“That’s Ferdinand.” He looks at the horse with pride. “I raised him myself. He’s a good worker.”
“Like his owner, from what I’ve heard.”
Hudson looks over, smiling. “Who’s been telling rumors about me?”
