“I like pixies just fine,” he insists. “Some seasons more than others.”
“Which seasons don’t you like?”
“Spring.”
“Spring?” I ask, surprised because I expected him to say winter. Spring is the vivacious season, the one most people adore…whether they choose to or not.
He extends his wings, looking like he’s shrugging.
“But you admit you don’t mind summer pixies?”
“Your magic is cute, though arguably worthless, and most of you are pleasant enough to be around even if your season has a tendency to be a bit vapid.”
“Careful—I think you’d fit in a soup pot.”
He chuckles, and it’s a nice sound.
At least he has a sense of humor. Maybe we’ll figure out how to become friends. Though I wish someone had warned me I’d be living with a mage-turned-owl and not a regular owl. Rowan went from a pet to a roommate the moment he started talking, and I wasn’t prepared.
“I’m going to go inside and start unpacking,” I say. “I don’t suppose Laverna had tea, did she?”
“Of course there’s tea,” he scoffs, following me. “Laverna owned a tea shop. And I’ll take a cup as well.”
“You can drink tea?”
“I’ve been craving a nice Taiwanese oolong—high mountain preferably. Jin Xuan, I think.”
I hold the door for him. “I have no idea what that is, but I guess that answers my question. Come on—show me where to find everything.”
“Will your rat dog be all right out here by himself? It would be a shame if something large and carnivorous were to take off with him.”
I give him a grim smile. “He’ll be fine, but thank you for your concern.”
Rowan leads me to the kitchen and lands on a perch near the breakfast nook table. There’s a small pet door installed in the wall behind it. At least I won’t have to let him in and out constantly.
“The kettle is on the stove,” he says.
Even though the cottage looks like it was plucked from a fairy tale, the appliances are modern. The gas range is built into the butcher-block countertop. There are two stacked stainless-steel ovens set into the wall, and a tall, elegant faucet lords over the sink.
“Where’s the fridge?” I ask, scanning the kitchen. “And is there a dishwasher?”
Please let there be a dishwasher.
“They’re designed to blend in with the cabinets,” Rowan says proudly, like it was his idea. And maybe it was. “The dishwasher is to the right of the sink. The refrigerator is directly behind you.”
I turn, and sure enough, the panels on the front of the fridge perfectly match the sage-green cabinets. An open doorway next to it leads into a small dining room with a dark wooden table and a side buffet.
Feeling like I’m snooping, I acquaint myself with the kitchen. Someone cleaned out the fridge, leaving nothing but an open box of baking soda. The cabinets hold glass jars of flour, sugar, and other long-lasting baking items.
And one cabinet is filled with nothing but tins of loose-leaf tea and glass jars of flavored honey.
“There are so many types,” I say, browsing the collection. “I don’t recognize half of these. Longjing, CTC Assam, First Flush Darjeeling FTGFOP, Alishan Oolong, Jin Jun Mei… Oh. Earl Grey. I’m familiar with that one.”
“Laverna loved all tea,” Rowan says.
I open a tin and sniff the contents. “I’ve never made loose tea like this—only the stuff that comes in tea bags.”
“Help us all,” he mutters. Then, louder, he says, “You can use the teapot, or there are various infusers in the drawer under the tea cabinet—though I warn you, many are novelty creations Laverna received as gifts and won’t make a proper cup of tea.”
