Rayan’s pantry was poorly stocked for most trivialities, which meant Keles had little to sweeten the green tea once the iron kettle over his hearth reached a boil. The teacups and plates, however, were exquisite. They were a pale white with intricate carvings painted blue along the sides depicting both Lycaena and Endarius. Queen Holly Lythan had presented them as a gift to one of his ancestors for their loyal service, and the set had been cherished ever since. Possessing them put Rayan’s life at risk should they be discovered, but given his lectures and his missions with Thorda, keeping a little tea set paled in comparison.

Rayan let Keles do all the preparations, for she seemed filled with a nervous energy, and the focus of a small, insignificant task did her well. They chatted while she worked, little inconsequential things about her own daily life as a messenger scribe, the position afforded to her given her paladin training in letters and numbers. It seemed absurd, to discuss trade minutiae and the status of the island’s roads mere moments after standing before a swaying corpse, yet somehow it made the horror bearable. He immersed himself in Keles’s life so he might endure the loss of Luke’s and the sorrow of his own.

“This really is quite nice,” he said once he had a chance to sip the tea she presented to him. “Though still not better than what I myself am capable of.”

“So unbecoming for a paladin to brag,” Keles said, but her laughter was light and precious. She sat on the floor opposite him at their little table. “I don’t remember the priests teaching us anything beyond swordplay and prayers. My mother taught me how to make tea. When did you learn?”

Rayan smiled at a warm memory of Yvonne, his cousin and Keles’s mother. They had played often when children, for both their parents lived in the castle as part of their familial duty to safeguard the throne. He kept the memory to himself. The young rarely wanted to listen to such stories, especially when the telling tended to have little point beyond the teller indulging themselves with fond memories.

“I forced myself to learn over the years,” he said. “Our duties as paladins may require the sword to protect Thanet, but they more often mean telling stories around dinner tables or praying over the unwell. A good cup of tea can open up hearts that a thousand sermons may leave closed.”

Keles sipped her tea, and he noted a sudden shift in her mood.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I forsook my duties. If I can’t make tea, I guess I’m not much of a paladin.”