Royal tea service, p.1
Royal Tea Service, page 1
Royal Tea Service
Tea Princess Chronicles Book 3
Casey Blair
ROYAL TEA SERVICE
Tea Princess Chronicles: Book 3
Copyright © 2022 Casey Blair,
All rights reserved.
No part of this edition may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, or used in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations in a book review. For permission requests, email Casey.L.Blair@gmail.com.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Hampton Lamoureux of TS95 Studios, 2021.
Author photograph by Mariah Bush, 2013.
Ebook ISBN: 9798985110142.
Paperback ISBN: 9798985110159.
www.caseyblair.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue: Part 1
Epilogue: Part 2
Epilogue: Part 3
Thank You
About the Author
Also By
Chapter 1
I try not to collapse onto the couch, exhausted to my core. I ignore my awareness that this is a losing battle: Deniel hasn’t collapsed, and since I’m responsible for this, I don’t get to either.
I drag myself towards his—our—kitchen. “I’m going to make some tea.”
“That’s the same tone you used reading the story to Yorani with the warrior charging grimly into battle,” Deniel says, amusement in his tone, but not so much that it disguises his own weariness.
He follows me into the kitchen, and I stop and watch him in confusion.
“The neighbors brought us a pot of pre-cooked dinner to welcome you, remember?” Deniel asks. “And there’s my mother’s cake. I think we could both use some food before we run out of energy to eat it.”
I had forgotten, but now I glance around the kitchen hopelessly. “Where?”
Moving into Risteri’s grandmother’s cottage had been easy: I’d had no possessions, so Risteri had set me up with the essentials until I had time to acquire more gradually on my own.
Moving in with Risteri had been a production, but I’d expected that: neither of us had any furniture or supplies to our names, so we’d had to effectively start over. With the political circumstances mandating our move, our community had turned out to help.
Today came as a surprise. Deniel’s home was already set up, after all. But I was barely involved in helping Lorwyn move in, as preoccupied as I was with moving out, or in, myself.
In retrospect, perhaps I should have expected this, or forgive myself for not expecting it, because I’ve never moved in where another person already lived. I hadn’t had to make the choices of who kept what, or how to make a space designed for one hold two instead, and make that space feel like it belonged to both of them. Us. It had felt like home before, but it had also felt like his, not mine, or ours.
We both agree that’s what we want, but it’s difficult to tell, in the mess of rearranging, if we are succeeding in any meaningful way.
“How is there still this much stuff everywhere?” I wonder. “We’ve been at this all day.”
“It’s a sign that you’re settling in here, I think,” Deniel answers. “You’ve begun to accumulate objects that reflect your priorities and that you’re thus attached to.”
“But so much? I haven’t been here that long.”
Deniel smiles faintly. “You’re making up for lost time. Though if you continue to acquire things at this rate, we may have to move elsewhere.”
I wince. “No. Perish the thought. I’m never moving again.”
“Not even to the couch?”
Deniel reaches onto the top of cooler, back past where I can see, and pulls down a bag.
His smile grows at my perplexed expression.
“It’s not my first time helping with a move,” Deniel says. “I figured we wouldn’t store anything there, since you’re not tall enough to reach. So our dinner is safely findable.”
“You are a perfect person,” I say fervently, and he laughs.
In short order, we have cleared space on the low table in front of the couch by expediently setting more things that will need sorting on the ground. I know better than to relax into the couch, but before I can take a sip of tea Deniel plucks the cup out of my hand and replaces it with a soup spoon.
“Please eat first,” he says. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”
I sigh. My body may need food, but my spirit needs tea. Still, I don’t argue. At least not about the eating.
“You shouldn’t have to be taking care of me right now,” I say. “You’ve worked just as hard as I have.”
Deniel pauses in reaching for his own food. “Amazing. Those are both completely nonsensical statements.”
“Are they?” I don’t mean it as a challenge—he appears to have made some connection I’ve completely missed.
I am too tired for this conversation, but that won’t stop us from having it.
Deniel prudently eats a few spoonfuls of soup before answering. “Firstly, no one is making me take care of you. I am helping you because I want to and because I can, and you would do the same for me, so let’s not backtrack into a conversation about obligation. We are partners. We help each other when we can. Right?”
I wince, nodding. He’s right, and I am falling back on bad mental habits.
“Secondly, we are not in competition. The same work doesn’t have to take the same amount out of each of us. We can have different levels of energy. It’s silly to compare in that way, but since you’ve started, please allow me to note that your exhaustion is probably not only due to physical work, but also mental.”
“Because of all the decisions,” I murmur.
“Right. These kinds of everyday life decisions—they’re things I’ve been doing for longer than you. It makes sense that they would be easier for me. And before you worry that will be an imbalance forever—”
“I’m already much further on this path than I was weeks ago, I know,” I interrupt. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Deniel says, bumping his leg into mine. I smile faintly at him, and we both settle into silence but for the slurping.
I bolt upright. “Where’s Yorani?”
“Last I saw, investigating the pile of boxes outside with Talsu,” Deniel says. “Cats and boxes are natural friends. Or enemies, I suppose, but they go together one way or another. I should warn you, we won’t be able to get rid of all the boxes at once because Talsion will keep sitting in them.”
“But they’re not soft.”
“I don’t think that’s the appeal. Though I do wonder how Yorani will react to them. She seems to find teapots comfortable enough.”
I stop inhaling my soup and settle back with the cup of tea, gazing at the wreckage around us. “Maybe Lorwyn could make me into a cat. Then I’d be comfortable sitting anywhere here without having to do anything about the situation.”
“She did permanently turn your hair green,” Deniel says. “I’m sure cat is the next logical step. You and Talsu will look very cute sharing a box together.”
“Apparently Talmeri hasn’t ordered new Cataclysm ingredients for Lorwyn to experiment with since the tournament started, so Lorwyn’s taking the opportunity to focus on magecraft, and body changes in particular. She says she’ll get in touch with Ari once she’s confident in what she can offer them.”
“I don’t mean to question her abilities,” Deniel says gravely, “but I fear I must point out that body changes are not the same as species transformations.”
“Sad but true.” I sigh. “A life full of naps remains regrettably out of reach for me.”
Deniel smiles, leaning back now with his cup of tea so our shoulders touch. “You’d be bored.”
I shift so I can tuck myself more fluidly against his side, curving into him. Deniel obligingly slides an arm around me, and this time when I sip my tea, I can feel the warmth spreading through me.
The real perfection of a cup of tea is about feelings, after all. I should know that better than anyone.
Except perhaps another tea master.
Like the one I still need to arrange lessons with, because apparently I will never be done.
“At this point, I wonder if I could do with a little more boredom,” I admit. “I was in such a rush to figure out how I can serve, and now… I’
“You’ve also been going nonstop, and you need to live, too,” Deniel says.
I glance sideways at him, not turning completely. “Serving people will always be the most important thing I do with my life.”
It’s something we haven’t talked about, that I simply took as self-evident, and now I wonder if it’s a problem. I love Deniel, but if being with him kept me from being able to serve people, I wouldn’t be able to do it. The very thought of having to choose—
Fortunately, I have no cause for concern on that front, as Deniel responds, “I’m aware, but I think it’s also important to remember it’s not the only thing in your life, nor should it be.”
Ah. I close my eyes, relaxing again. “Yes. I can’t serve well if I don’t remember what it’s like to live.”
“That’s true, but you also to deserve to live for your own sake, not just to make sure you’re fit to serve others.”
That makes me blink and sit up. Spirits, I have so much work to do—on myself, first and always.
I believe everyone is inherently valuable beyond their utility, but if I don’t also believe the same of myself, how can I model that so others will believe it for themselves?
“Miyara?”
I set my cup down, brushing my bracelets for reassurance. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to check on Yorani.”
“Miyara.”
“I don’t disagree, Deniel. Just give me a minute?”
Deniel subsides, watching me carefully, as I step out into the front.
Yorani is toddling around, pushing a small box into position against a stack of boxes.
Once she’s finished, she chirps, and Talsion regally climbs the staircase Yorani has created to sit on the top of the boxes.
Yorani crows and flaps up to join him there, and then they both stare at me expectantly.
My eyes blur a bit as I go to pet them both.
Deniel was right, as usual.
Especially after the events surrounding the tournament, if I don’t want people to see Yorani as a tool to be used, but an autonomous being inherently deserving of respect, she has to have the freedom to build box forts with her feline best friend if she wants to.
Yorani is herself, but she is also my familiar, and this is not so different from what I need, too.
Which, I smile to myself, is not Talsion’s need to imperiously look down on his work from above but Yorani’s desire to build together with her friend.
“Here,” Deniel says, coming up behind me. “Yorani, flap up for a moment?”
To my surprise, Yorani complies, as Deniel lifts Talsu with one hand and places a small woven blanket on top of the box with the other. Cat and baby tea spirit settle back down together, looking somehow smugger.
“Where did that blanket come from?” I ask.
“I have no idea,” Deniel says. “Or rather, I don’t know where it was stored, but all the reorganization produced it somehow. I made that ages ago.”
“You can weave, too? Oh, what am I saying, of course you can weave.”
Deniel laughs, hugging me from behind. “I’ve always liked working with my hands. Before I settled into pottery, I tried all kinds of crafts. That was supposed to be a gift when my father’s friend was having a baby, but I wasn’t happy with how it turned out and begged Glynis’ mom for scraps to try making a baby quilt instead.” He settles his chin on top of my head.
“Always the perfectionist,” I tease. “I bet it was your first quilt, too, and nevertheless worked fabulously.”
I can feel him shrug. “I don’t remember what it looked like now, but I must have been happier with it since I was willing to give it as a gift. And you’re hardly one to talk.”
“I am not the one who’s an expert at anything involving their hands.”
“What a thing to say, now of all times when I can’t prove it,” Deniel says softly into my ear.
I smile, suppressing a shiver. “Why, because we’re both too tired for more physical activity?”
Then Deniel’s hands slowly begin sliding up my sides, and I catch my breath.
I may be feeling a boost of vim.
“Because we’re both outside, in full view—of neighbors and companions,” he murmurs.
I am abruptly aware that Yorani and Talsion are both staring directly at us, and I turn in Deniel’s arms, laughing into his shoulder.
“It would be wrong to scandalize an impressionable young tea spirit,” Deniel manages with some solemnity. “Talsion, I’m afraid, is a hopeless case. Are you satisfied?”
That Yorani is safe and happy for the time being and I don’t need to hover? Yes.
“Never, I fear,” I say, but I tug him back into the house by the hand regardless. “And you agreed to give me a minute.”
“I did,” Deniel says. “One minute exactly.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m going to regret getting the best lawyer I know to tutor you, aren’t I?”
“I hope not,” he answers more seriously.
“I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t,” he says. “I think this is a perfectionism thing again.”
I should sit back down and take a break, but seeing the physical mess of our lives surrounding us is making me feel like a mess, so instead I start tidying again as we talk.
I’m tired, but I don’t misunderstand him. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to expect to have internalized more by now,” I say. “Of course you’re right. How long until I stop thinking of my own life as transactional, when I don’t for anyone else?”
“Miyara, you haven’t had time,” Deniel says, joining me in the work. “How long have you thought of your purpose in life as existing to serve others?”
“As long as I can remember,” I say, surprised. “That service to our fellow humans is service to the spirits is the foundation of our spiritual labor.”
“And how long have you been preparing yourself to serve, and searching for the form that would take?”
Ah, that’s where he’s going with this. “And I’ve only been on this specific path for weeks, so it’s natural that I haven’t worked it out? That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t expect myself to figure it out.”
“No,” Deniel says gently, “but it does mean you have time. You don’t have to do everything perfectly right away.”
I carry a load to our rapidly filling trash box. “That, I’m not sure I agree with,” I admit. “It still feels… precarious. Like I can’t really settle, like it’s only my constant movement that’s holding this place together. First I thought my family would find me, and then there was Kustio’s threat, and needing to become a tea master right away. And then of course my family did find me and try to take me back, and the tea mastery alone wasn’t enough to protect me or anyone else. Saiyana has backed down, but what’s next? What now? I somehow both can’t believe there can be anything more and yet can’t not believe it, either.”
“You have time,” Deniel repeats, and this his hands are steering me toward the pedestal.
The pedestal Thiano procured for me for an altar. It’s one of the few pieces of furniture I moved in here. It’s been updated since, combined with pieces from Deniel’s prior altar. But it’s mine: a physical space for me in our life together.
“I’m not saying what you’ve done up to now didn’t matter—the opposite, actually,” Deniel says. “I think you’ve won yourself a grace period to re-center and decide where you want to go. Take a breath.”
I do.
Breath, for air.
Air that fills me inside; air that can blow in so many directions.
I want everything, and I want to be able to do it all at once. I want to serve people, I want to have friends and family, I want to be my whole self—
“I want to be with you,” I say, turning to face Deniel.
He gestures around wryly. “We are making good progress on that being an always thing.”
I grip his hands, silently, and his expression turns soft.
Our relationship, and exploring it, together, is a priority, and Deniel is right.
I have time. We have time. And I know what I want to do with it first.
I lean forward and kiss him.
His fingers tighten on mine, and I smile against his mouth.
“About those hands,” I say, before I can over-think it.
