How very odd, Kazrian thought, then put the idea out of his mind as he reached the tea house’s back garden. The morning was bright and the beds were loud with bees and arguing flower pixies, and across the lawn littleEmeric was being pursued at speed by the children’s nurse, both of them shrieking.
Kazrian turned away with a laugh and let himself in through the kitchen door, then stopped in the doorway.
Coralie was sitting on the worktable.Onit, swinging her small feet over the edge and laughing as Orrit tossed a cloud of flour into the air above her and let it drift down like snow. The brownie’s ruddy face was creased with delight.
A smile returned to Kazrian’s lips as he headed past them toward the main area of the tea house. Apparently his grandmother was not the only one who had softened for the great-grandchildren.
The room was quiet, holding its breath before the afternoon. Tables arranged elegantly, the menu board on the wall reshaping its curling script as today’s offerings settled into place, vines trailing along the walls. By next week, the Season would have officially begun and this room would be positively buzzing—every table full, every alcove occupied. For now, there was only the quiet hum of a building at rest.
Kazrian could hear his grandmother’s voice, and Iris’s, from the small alcove near the window, which was partially concealed by a cascade of honeysuckle vines. He had never been allowed to sit there as a child. He had been convinced, in fact, up until the age of ten, that the vines would physically eject him if he tried.
As he approached, Iris’s voice carried through the honeysuckle.
“… you have felt it too?”
“Yes,” his grandmother answered. “A deep sense of foreboding.”
“Indeed. It is most uncomfortable. And I can see nothing specific, except that?—”
“—that it relates somehow to the tea house?”
Kazrian reached the alcove as Iris nodded in response. His grandmother sat at the small table with her hands folded; Iris occupied the cushioned window seat. They both looked up at his arrival.
“Ah. Kazrian,” his grandmother said. “There you are.”
“Grandmother. Iris.”
“Kazrian.” Iris smiled, but it was a touch distracted, as though some part of her attention remained on whatever ‘sense of foreboding’ the two of them had been discussing.
“You are here to give me your update on The Honeycomb, I presume?” his grandmother said, rising from the table.
“Yes.”
Iris rose as well. “I shall leave you to it. I ought to find the children’s nurse and have her take them home before we open.” She pressed Lady Rivenna’s hand briefly before slipping away.
“Shall we sit in the Crones’ Corner, then?” his grandmother said.
Though it was presented as a question, Kazrian knew it was not. He followed her across the room to the corner table she had occupied for years. It offered an excellent view of the entire floor, and she and her friends sat here and conducted what she preferred to call observation and everyone else called gossip.
Kazrian sat. A vine curled down from the wall and brushed his grandmother’s shoulder. She reached for the bowl of sugar cubes at the center of the table, selected one, and held it up without looking. The vine accepted it delicately and withdrew.
“Should I be concerned?” Kazrian asked, opening his portfolio.
His grandmother frowned. “About what?”
Kazrian raised a brow. “Foreboding? The tea house?”
She waved a hand as though he had taken leave of his senses. “I am sure I have no idea what you are referring to.”
Well then.
He decided it was not worth pursuing.
“Right. The Honeycomb. Nearly everything is resolved.” He looked over the lumyrite schematic and his additional notes. “The ovens are fully functional. The cooling cabinets are holding steady. The shelf that seemed opposed to anything blue has been persuaded otherwise. The extra step has stopped manifesting. The faelights are all working—including the stubborn one in the main shop. The pantry cupboard has stopped muttering the word ‘no’, and the small puddle that kept appearing on the front step for no discernible reason has stopped appearing.”
“And the upstairs storeroom door?”
“Remains stubborn. But I intend to address it today, and I am confident I shall have it resolved by this evening.”
