Can't Spell Treason Without Tea (Tomes & Tea, #1)

by Rebecca Thorne

Just a consistent, pulsing weariness for her profession, growing more profound each day.

“You like tea. I like books. Let’s open a shop somewhere remote and forget the world exists.”

You like tea. I like books. Let’s open a shop somewhere remote and forget the world exists.

She slept until the ballroom cleared out, until the early-morning hours when the moon hung low and the palace guards had reduced to a skeleton staff.

She was an excellent guard. She was a terrible girlfriend.

“You’re beautiful.” As always, Reyna rolled her eyes, but a blush tinged her cheeks. It was delightful, and Kianthe grinned. Reyna shoved her shoulder, flushing now. “Don’t look so smug. That was a mediocre compliment at best.” “Please. All of my compliments are mediocre at best.”

“Run away with me. You like tea. I like books. Care to open a shop and forget the world exists?”

A bookstore that served tea, perched in the most remote corner of the world.

She paused. As much as she loved Kianthe, she didn’t want the mage helpfully suggesting new ambitions. It was important that Reyna didn’t replace the queen with the Arcandor.

But owning in the Queendom—hells, owning anywhere—was expensive, and her savings over years of service felt very small when she checked the numbers.

“Is it offensive to call someone a witch, as a magic user yourself?” The mage snorted. “It’s because I’m a magic user that I can get away with it, love.”

“Which, of course, means all my funds are routed through the Magicary. So … no. Did you think I chose you for your looks?” Reyna forced a smile. “I’m quite certain the Arcandor, Mage of Ages, could find a wealthier woman to bankroll her endeavors.”

“Rain. It was a joke. You know I wouldn’t choose someone for their coin. I love you because you’re amazing. You find worth in me, not my title or magic.”

Her professional attitude was always sexy, but Kianthe had voiced that before and it never won any favors.

“Only one bed? Are you planning something untoward, Key?”

“What an unfulfilling life that would be,” Reyna said. “All the best things come alongside responsibility.”

Kianthe shrugged. “We’re in love. How hard can it be?” Matild burst into laughter. Tarly rolled his eyes, but a smile played on his lips.

Nothing better than plants welcoming people inside,

“I think your devotion to Cya is admirable. But a good relationship thrives on distance, sometimes.”

“Do you know how easy it would have been to avoid this? You just … climb down the ladder. You don’t stay on the roof during a rainstorm. You don’t go back up.”

Her body had glimpsed a rare chance for sleep and was seizing every opportunity with gleeful pleasure. Even sitting upright was a bit of a struggle.

Once one of them asked that question, they stayed quiet until the other was absolutely finished. Sometimes, a person just needed to verbally work through their feelings. Sometimes, the first thing out of their mouth wasn’t really the problem.

“I like everything about you. Even your wild choice in décor.”

I love you, but I signed up for a partner, not a protector.”

Well, Kianthe couldn’t fault Reyna for that. Everyone needed a life independent of their partner.

“Don’t plant anything without me.” “Anything I plant will die in hours, so never fear.”

It was exhilarating. Kianthe loved having someone who genuinely anticipated her return, but this felt bigger. Not just returning to Reyna … but to the home they were building together.

“Not until Kianthe gets back. I can’t move in without her.” “But you already bought a bed, I heard,” Matild replied with a sly grin. Reyna quirked an eyebrow. “Does everyone in this town gossip about everything, or is this a special occurrence for us?”

“Does everyone in this town gossip about everything, or is this a special occurrence for us?”

The shop’s western side was Kianthe’s haven: bookshelves, heavy rugs, comfy seats. A reading oasis. The east was Reyna’s domain, with three booths, four small tables, and a larger round table that came with the barn. The perfect spot for sipping tea and conducting conversation.

She even had a smudge of flour on her cheek, and she looked so domestic that Kianthe couldn’t help stomping over and sweeping her into a dramatic kiss.

On the breast, someone had stitched the words I cook, you clean in white thread.

“Cya, look! One Baker’s Dozen: Recipes for the Culinarily Adept.” She waved the book at Reyna, who quirked an eyebrow over the copper kettle. “Is that a hint?” “Nooo.” Kianthe tugged out another book. A Gentleperson’s Guide to Sex and Sensuality. She didn’t bother quelling her suggestive smile as she tucked that one away for later.

There was a thrill to losing herself within the pages of a new story, and it’d been a while since she’d had this wide a selection. The tome on her bedside table had been reread four times, and while she didn’t mind the familiarity, there was a novelty to something new.

A person could work and work and work, and still never “earn” their dues. Sometimes success meant determination … and sometimes, it was just luck.

“I want you to feel loved without earning it. Because that’s how you make me feel every Stone-damned day.”

“Reyna. This is important: you never have to earn me. I’m not ‘payment for services rendered.’” A pause for breath, almost pained. “Please don’t reduce me to that.”

Their book-lending program was a success, and they had a steady business selling the tomes that lined their massive shelves, but her tea was their biggest draw.

There was something pleasing about having productive conversations, rather than burning bridges with fiery emotion. When they first started dating, Kianthe had never considered the little tactics Reyna often employed: separating from impulse, practicing empathy, repeating another’s sentence to prove she’d been listening.

“You want to know what I think?” “No. Because you’re going to spout logic, and I’d rather ruminate, thank you.”

There wasn’t a hierarchy in the Magicary, not really. There were old mages (the Zenith) who felt they knew best, young mages (like Allayan) who often did know best, and middling mages (Harold) who loathed them all.

The hushed silence was broken when Lord Wylan asked, “Why do you want this town at all, Feo? What does Tawney have that’s so interesting to you?” Reyna almost said, It has you, my lord, but she doubted Diarn Feo would appreciate that.

“Let them cool.” “I’m the Arcandor.” “As far as I can tell, your magic doesn’t extend to cookies.” Reyna pinched her brow. “Gods, you have the patience of a five-year-old.

Kianthe started by checking Reyna’s griffon egg—which, surprise, had not moved at all, since it was an egg.

“They’d better not be writing in our books,” Kianthe said hypocritically, since she wrote in her personal tomes all the time. It was the best way to remember her favorite lines, or emotional moments that really punched her in the gut.

“Honestly? I’ve always wanted to open a bookshop. Something with a cozy hearth and lots of armchairs and good company.”

All the best bookstores have food and drink, I believe.”

“I thought all stories needed heart-pounding action, but that one proved me wrong. You’re right; the princess lives her best life by abandoning it all.”