A nervous laugh escaped. I laced my fingers to stop from hugging my arms. “Yes. A tea made from beans. Do you know it?”
“I have beans, your highness, but I’ve never steeped them.” She pursed her lips in thought and tapped a finger along her chin.
“They’re from Radaan.” I lowered my voice, insecure by my request. Perhaps it was exclusive to their kingdom, and I was a fool for asking.
Recognition lit her face. She beckoned me to follow. “I’ve got Radaanian black beans—fresh off the ship yesterday! Never thought of them for tea, but if you’re sure…”
We moved between rows of heavy tables and stacks of pots. The area was clean and organized, but packed. With what little space we had, every inch of the Spire had been claimed.
“Yes, though the beans are removed before serving,” I said. Truthfully, I had no idea what made it work, only that it eased something in Kallias I couldn’t reach with words. I feared the burden of these negotiations was weighing far heavier on him than he’d admit.
“Sit, I’ll make it!” She pulled out a chair near a wall where the heat thinned and voices quieted.
I sank into it, breath slowing as Gertrude vanished into the pantry. Around me, the kitchen kept moving. Two girls laughed near a sink. One yelped, then slapped her friend with a wet, limp fish.
A smile pulled at my mouth.
They bickered, teasing over chores and whispered gossip. My chest tightened. Scythe would’ve joined me here, settled across from me, offered silence or sarcasm. I still had Freya and planned to ask for her and Edith to attend me in Radaan. I wouldn’t face it alone. And this time, I’d bring riders. My people. A tether back to who I was.
“Here, drink this while you wait.” Gertrude handed me a small teacup filled with familiar green liquid, then bustled away with a rattling mug in her grip.
Mint cooled my throat. Salty water clung to the roof of my mouth. Travelers Tea—brisk and briny—dragged me back to the memory of my brother teasing me. He claimed it was only for riders after a hard flight. Father had scolded him, then passed me his cup. The first time I had it, I nearly gagged. But I smiled through it, determined to show Ronan up. After that, I drank it whenever I could.
Now, it tasted like home. Harsh and grounding. One of the many things I’d miss.
Across the kitchen, Gertrude hummed, bent over a steaming pot. She stirred, cringing at the scent. Her nose wrinkled. She gave the concoction another sniff, then glanced at me with unease.
“This is common there?” she asked, poking the contents again.
“It’s a luxury,” I said.
She tied her stained apron over a faded gray dress. Frowning, she muttered under her breath as she adjusted the knot.
I sipped my tea and let my thoughts slip toward Kallias. Father was likely prying for answers. Ronan probably couldn’t help himself—twisting the topic with some tasteless joke. The conversation about heirs should have ended once Kallias explained I would rule Radaan and my child would follow. Even if it wasn’t his.
One generation. That’s all it would take to seize his kingdom, break the reign of farmer kings, and root dragons in their soil. My dragons.
Abyss, he was going to die before me.
The thought knocked the air from my lungs. I stared at the empty cup in my hands. He was twice my age. I knew this. But love makes a fool of time. Unless I died in the unlikely event of childbirth, I’d bury him one day.
Life was brutal. It made no room for lovers who found each other too late.
“I fear there’s something wrong.”
I wiped the grief from my face. Gertrude stood in front of me, holding a cup with both hands. She swirled the contents, her frown etched deep.
“I assure you, it’s a simple tea,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely certain. When Kallias first offered it, there were no spices. No honey or citrus. Just dark, acrid liquid reminiscent of ash and soil.
She placed the cup in front of me with care. I leaned over, studying the black surface. Thick and opaque.
“The color looks right,” I told her. I took a sniff and flinched. It wasn’t acidic. More musky, with something damp clinging beneath it. Maybe the sea voyage spoiled it. I swallowed down the revulsion, curled my fingers around the warmth, and stood.
“Will you be testing it?” she asked. Worry pinched her face as her eyes locked on the cup as if it were a snake ready to strike.
“It’s an acquired taste, and not one I have. Thank you!”
The heat soaked into my palms. I lingered in the hallway, taking a slow path toward Father’s study. Ronan’s presence in that room still baffled me. He had no filter. No place in delicate talks.
