A Pirate’s Life for Tea (Tomes & Tea #2)

1. Reyna

Chapter one

Reyna

T here were days when Reyna missed the heart-pounding thrill of guarding a queen.

It wasn’t often. She rather loved her quiet life as a teamaker in the small, icy town of Tawney. Loved her friends and their daily drama. Loved the cozy barn-turned-bookstore she’d created with her partner, Kianthe, and the warmth that filled it. Entire days were spent watching the clouds pass. Reyna’s biggest concern was how well her baby griffon would take to training that day. Accomplishments came in the form of a quiet kiss or a particularly tasty blend of tea.

But against all odds, Reyna had a certain nostalgia for her old job. Guarding a notoriously vicious queen. Stalking assassins through crowded ballrooms. Hunting down conspirators in back alleys. Besting the most skilled swordsmen in the Queendom in private duels.

Again, it wasn’t often .

But sometimes.

So, a thrill raced through Reyna as she and her fiancée crested the hill and surveyed the organized chaos of Diarn Arlon’s home.

“A ball?” Reyna couldn’t keep the intrigue out of her voice. “Diarn Arlon is hosting a ball tonight?”

“That would explain why no one but the stable boy was around to greet us.” Kianthe crossed her arms. “Gotta admit, I didn’t see this coming.”

The diarn’s riverside estate was massive, spanning an area that could have fit the entire town of Tawney comfortably. But the party was centralized to a manicured lawn beside the powerful Nacean River—Shepara’s largest river, so wide the opposite bank was barely visible. A six-piece orchestra filled the nighttime air with gentle swells of music. Torches illuminated a well-stocked buffet table, and square tiles constructed a dance floor over the spongy grass. All of it was visible from their position at the top of the hill, where she and Kianthe perched in the shadows of Diarn Arlon’s looming mansion.

But the best part? Constables—Diarn Arlon’s private guards—patrolled everywhere. Their black uniforms and silver badges reminded Reyna vividly of her own cohorts, of the days when she and Venne would prowl the edges of Her Excellency’s ballrooms clad in crimson and gold.

Her hand drifted to the sword at her hip, and she bounced on her toes. What was Diarn Arlon expecting tonight? Bandits? An assassin, perhaps? She hadn’t drawn her weapon for anything other than practice drills in so long.

Beside her, Kianthe bounced for a different reason. “Well, no complaints. By the Stone, that’s so much food. Do you think it’s free?”

Reyna snorted. “Darling, we’ve hardly starved up to this point.”

“Okay, sure, but home-grown plants only go so far.” Kianthe gestured down the hillside. “Look at that spread! Turkey, pork, fish… The salmon here is incredible. You have to try it.”

“We’re here for a reason, Key. We don’t have time for—” Reyna paused as movement caught her eye, “—for salmon,” she finished lamely.

Down near the riverbank, one of the constables glanced over her shoulder, then slipped into the pine forest that circled the manicured lawn in a dark embrace. The constable vanished in a breath.

Hmm.

“Rain?” Kianthe poked her shoulder, then followed her gaze to the forest. “You have that ‘something’s wrong’ look. What’s happening?”

“I don’t have a ‘something’s wrong’ look,” Reyna replied.

“Sure, you do. Your eyebrows twitch, and you start smiling.”

Reyna smoothed her expression, but inside her chest warmed. No one else had ever noticed anything like that, not until she started dating Kianthe.

The Arcandor continued, amused now: “You’re also the only person I know who smiles at the first sign of trouble.” She tossed her short, dark hair over her shoulder and casually ignited one palm in flames. “So, who’s causing problems tonight? The food can wait.”

They’d been dating for years, but Reyna would never get used to seeing a mage just… light themselves on fire. It was lucky everyone else was near the river—otherwise, they’d definitely be attracting attention.

Reyna squeezed Kianthe’s arm, feeling the heat of the flames and trusting she’d never be burned. “First, you are wonderful, and I love you dearly. Second, not everything is a problem.”

“Mmm. Sure. But when you get that look, something usually is.”

Reyna squinted again at the trees. “It’s probably nothing. A constable went into the forest, that’s all. It’s odd that she’d leave her rotation.”

“It is odd she’d… leaf… like that.”

Reyna leveled an unamused stare at her fiancée.

Kianthe grinned. “Okay, sorry. Maybe that is her rotation.” The mage extinguished her palm by shaking the flames out, like one might after dunking their hand in water. She rocked back on her heels, tugging her cloak tighter around her shoulders as a chill swept off the river. Kianthe didn’t love the cold.

“The diarn—is he a diarn or a councilman?”

“Well, technically he’s a diarn who serves on the Council, but his title will be ‘diarn.’”

Reyna nodded, then moved on: “Well, Diarn Arlon has established eight points of focus around the party, and six additional rotations covered by eighteen constables. Seventeen, now.” Her thumb rubbed circles over the clay disc on her sword’s pommel, the one Kianthe had magicked to cover Queen Tilaine’s royal insignia. “Every rotation stays within sight of the grounds. It’s possible he’d have more in the woods, but no one else is crossing lines.”

Kianthe stared at her.

Reyna quirked an eyebrow. “Something to say, love?”

“You’re sexy as hells when you talk like that, and now I’m wondering if I can take you off rotation by dragging you into the forest.”

It shouldn’t have taken Reyna by surprise, but it did. She snorted, then covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “There are days where I wonder what the Realm would think if they truly knew what the Mage of Ages was like.”

“They’d probably think I’m sexy as hells, too.” Kianthe grinned, rocking back on her heels. “So, let me guess. You’re going to investigate the constable… and you’re sticking me with the boring job of confronting Arlon about that shipment.”

“It’s important to cover our bases,” Reyna replied steadily. “And I’d hardly be of help with Diarn Arlon. He’ll be more receptive to the Arcandor requesting information than an ex-royal guard from the Queendom.”

Kianthe set her jaw. Reyna couldn’t blame her; they’d encountered that prejudice more than once on their journey through Shepara. The mage’s words were clipped. “Not like our countries are at peace, or anything. Not like you don’t make the best cup of tea in Shepara or the Queendom.”

“Ah, yes. A cup of tea. The best way to sway international politics.” Reyna winked and started down the hillside. “See you in a bit, darling.”

She dove into the forest, casting only a brief glance over her shoulder to see Kianthe trudging down the carefully marked path to the river’s edge. A fond smile crossed Reyna’s lips. Hopefully Kianthe could stay focused—that was always the question with her fiancée.

Reyna, meanwhile, moved swiftly and silently through the forest, ever-alert, years of training resurfacing as easy as breathing. This far north, the pine trees loomed thick and heavy overhead, their boughs swaying in the ever-present wind coming off the massive river. It didn’t take long for the orchestra’s melody to quiet to a whisper. When Reyna reached the river’s shore, she homed in on the subtle tip-tip-tip of a constable’s footsteps over fallen pine needles.

She was just about to approach when movement on the river caught her eye: an ominous shape moving fast away from the party.

Reyna stepped to the river’s edge, boots slipping in soft mud as she craned to see details. It must be a ship, with the smooth way it cruised across the water’s surface. But if it used sails, they were black cloth, nearly invisible, and there wasn’t a lantern at the bow to signify its presence.

“Excuse me,” a sharp voice said behind her.

Reyna whirled, one hand on her sword’s hilt.

The constable had found her. With skin the pigment of burnt umber and a uniform of black velvet, she was almost as difficult to see as whatever was drifting downriver. But her tone couldn’t be mistaken—it was one Reyna often used while patrolling.

“Are you a guest of the party?” She also reached for her weapon. Unlike the long, thin blades used by the Queensguard, Diarn Arlon equipped his constables with a shorter sword that curved into a point at the end.

Neither woman unsheathed their sword, but the air was tense with anticipation.

“Something like that,” Reyna answered.

The constable frowned at her accent. “You’re from the Queendom.”

Of course. The constable’s tone wasn’t shocking—Queen Tilaine had a bad reputation heavily steeped in truth—but considering how many people she’d heard it from, Reyna was getting a bit irritated. After all, she’d separated from that life and was trying to build a new one.

It never seemed to matter.

The constable was still waiting for an answer, so Reyna nodded curtly. “I am. But today, I’m on business with the Arcandor.”

“The Arcandor.” The constable’s tone was deadpan. She didn’t remove her hand from her sword. “Last I heard, the Arcandor was in Tawney.”

Reyna drew a short breath, focusing on the scent of pine, moss, and wet soil.

“We’ve come west. Fortunately, the Arcandor isn’t tethered to one singular location.” Reyna maintained an amicable disposition, even as sarcasm lurked on the edges of her statement.

The constable frowned. “Hmm. Regardless, weapons aren’t allowed at the diarn’s ball.”

Reyna could respect that. She’d collected many from nobles who thought it appropriate to arrive at the Grand Palace with decorative swords or daggers. But she had no plans to relinquish her own, so she diverted: “I’ll remember that when I enter. What is Diarn Arlon celebrating?”

The constable looked like she wanted to push the issue, but she didn’t. She shifted in the soft soil of the riverbank, glancing at the full moon through the snarl of pine needles. “He hosts one every year on the second full moon of fall. It’s meant to evaluate the year’s crops and award the highest performing farmers with bonuses.”

“Bonuses?” Reyna’s brow furrowed.

“An idea he implemented years ago to encourage the highest yield from his lands. Our barley and wheat exports are the best in the Realm.”

Reyna tilted her head in consideration, fingers idly tapping the sheath of her sword. Abundant crops were certainly where Diarn Arlon earned his reputation. Without the rich soil of the Nacean River, Shepara would be facing a food shortage. Even the Queendom, far to the east, purchased his yields in bulk.

Reyna spoke neutrally: “I see.”

“You shouldn’t be wandering the estate. Come along; I’ll escort you back to the party and you can point out the Arcandor.” A threat lingered in that statement, like she didn’t believe Reyna had arrived with the famous mage. The constable motioned for her to move in front—but her eyes cut to the riverbank only briefly.

Looking for… what? That dark shape?

Then Reyna hadn’t been seeing things.

She opened her mouth to ask—and at that moment, an explosion shattered the air.

The blast shook the forest, sending a smattering of birds screeching into the nighttime sky—a sky suddenly ablaze with orange light. The constable flinched, but Reyna was moving before the echoes had faded, instinct taking over.

Kianthe .

Abandoning the constable, Reyna sprinted through the trees. Fear compounded in her chest as the partygoers’ shock faded and their terror grew. Screams and shouts filtered through the crisp air. The constable’s footsteps pounded behind her, even as the acrid scent of smoke assaulted them. Reyna covered her nose with her sleeve, ducking past the final line of trees.

“Key,” she gasped.

Fire snarled the riverbank, spreading like water from an overturned bucket. The long wooden buffet table was alight, the copious amounts of food igniting fast, too fast. Magic? Or some form of an accelerant?

It hardly mattered now. Heavy smoke and cold dread made it hard to breathe.

To her credit, the constable only hesitated for a moment before leaping into the chaos.

“Evacuate up the hillside. Gather by the mansion,” the constable shouted, her commands allowing no argument. People sprinted up the cobblestone path, and she physically shoved those who were too stunned to move. A harpist struggled with his instrument, but the constable hollered, “Leave it,” and the man reluctantly obeyed.

The other constables were evacuating in a similar fashion, moving in cohesion as they corralled the guests away from danger.

Reyna ignored them all and ran towards the riverbank instead—because if Kianthe was anywhere, it’d be there. She’d just reached the fire’s edge, heat washing over her, when the flames lifted off the ground.

This was no simple shift of the wind.

No, this was magical intervention. The flames flowed to a center point and formed a growing, undulating sphere—like the sun had been plucked from the noonday sky with all its brilliance and heat condensed to this new, smaller form. The sphere rose high into the air and dissipated gently, glimmering like stars before vanishing into the night.

Not even the smoke remained. Only the charred wood and scorched earth signified anything had been amiss at all.

In the center of everything, knee-deep in river mud, Kianthe quirked an eyebrow. “Rain, please tell me you weren’t about to run into a literal wall of flame to save an elemental mage.”

Reyna had a lifetime of practice mitigating the physical symptoms of fear, but it didn’t stop her pounding heart or the sweat in her palms. She waded into the river, pulled Kianthe into a passionate kiss—just to reassure herself that the mage was here, alive, and safe.

“If I was,” she murmured against Kianthe’s lips, “it’s a testament to how deeply I love you—and how little faith I have in your ability to prioritize in an emergency.”

“Touching.” Kianthe chuckled, her hands winding around Reyna’s waist—and maybe a little lower. She kissed Reyna again, slow and deliberate, and pulled back. “Public displays of affection? Maybe I should almost explode more often.”

“You should remember what I said about unnecessary risks.” Reyna tapped Kianthe’s nose, disentangling herself, smoothing her shirt. “And the punishment that comes with them.”

“Punishment, you say.” Kianthe’s eyes sparkled.

Reyna rolled her eyes and tugged her fiancée out of the mud, squeezing her hand as they reached the riverbank. “Any idea what caused the explosion?”

“Oh, I know this one. I’m going with, ‘something ignitable.’” Kianthe smirked.

“How insightful. Anything else?”

“Listen, you’re the one who loves a good mystery. I’m just wet and cold.” Kianthe began magicking the mud and water out of her clothes.

With a sigh, Reyna knelt beside the buffet table, inspecting it visually before feeling around its charred surface. As she ran a finger along the table’s underside, an old conversation settled into her mind—something Kianthe had once said during a quiet forest walk near Tawney. "Did you know? The resin of a ponderous pine can be explosive."

At the time, Reyna had laughed, rolled her eyes—convinced it was a prank. Those were Kianthe’s specialty, after all; no one would dare contradict the Arcandor’s knowledge of nature. It was a power her fiancée used liberally, much to Reyna’s exasperation. Now she frowned, tapping a sticky substance under the table.

“Someone really doesn’t like Diarn Arlon,” she commented.

“No shit,” Kianthe rolled her eyes. “An all-powerful councilman with more land than any other diarn in Shepara? Whoever would make him a target?”

With the fire gone, the screaming had stopped, but what filled its wake was a steady buzz of chatter—akin to a swarm of angry bees. No one seemed to have been seriously hurt, thanks to the constables’ quick response. Of course, that didn’t stop the guests’ obvious fear and confusion at what just happened.

Diarn Arlon, flanked by two constables with silver epaulets, stalked down the hillside.

There was no doubt that this was the man they’d come to see. He was about Reyna’s height, with a strong build and fierce eyes. He moved like a king, so accustomed to power and privilege that he expected people to move out of his way—and they did, scurrying like mice facing a feral cat. His skin was ruddy, something he’d clearly attempted to hide beneath pale powder. He scanned the constables gathering the crowds, patrolling the forest, or picking through the wreckage of the buffet table.

“Barylea,” he bellowed.

“It’s Bobbie, sir,” the constable flanking Diarn Arlon’s left shoulder said quietly.

Diarn Arlon offered him a dirty look. “Someone just ignited my ball, and that’s your concern?” He noted Kianthe and said, “Stay put, Arcandor. I’ll get to you in a moment. Constable Bobbie , report.”

The constable who’d confronted Reyna in the woods approached, straightening her uniform in an almost nervous tic. She held her chin high and her shoulders back and didn’t look at Reyna or Kianthe.

“The explosion appears to have originated from—”

“I know where it originated, and it wasn’t a buffet table. You promised to fix this.”

Bobbie winced, but kept her eyes glued to an imaginary point just above the diarn’s head. In the moonlight, Reyna could see her eyes were a magnificent green, the color of rich moss or deep agate. “Sir, I have no excuses.”

Diarn Arlon didn’t like that. “Are you going to find this pirate, or do I need to assign someone more experienced to the case? Test me on this, Bobbie, and I’m happy to send you right back to dock duty in Lathe.”

Bobbie swallowed, barely perceptible.

“I’ll find her,” the constable said.

“You have until the new moon. This ridiculous plunderer will be brought to justice… one way or another.” Diarn Arlon waved a hand to dismiss Bobbie, the gesture almost violent. Bobbie saluted sharply, rapping her fist against her silver badge. Her eyes briefly met Reyna’s, then Kianthe’s, and then she was gone, moving back into the forest with purpose.

So, the constable knew who’d caused the explosion.

A pirate?

Reyna had never dealt with pirates before. She released a long breath, her lips tilting upwards in anticipation.

At her side, Kianthe bumped her shoulder. “There’s that ‘I see trouble’ look. Why do I get the feeling that you’re going hunting and leaving me to deal with him?”

She wasn’t quiet about it. Diarn Arlon straightened indignantly, as if he hadn’t dismissed her in a similar fashion mere moments ago. The only reason he hadn’t approached them yet was because one of his constables was murmuring in his ear, gesturing at the guests milling near his hilltop mansion.

Reyna refocused on her fiancée. “That was always our arrangement, darling. Divide and conquer, remember?” She pressed two fingers to her lips and whistled sharply. A griffon’s screech filled the air, and a quieter one followed. Lilac, Reyna’s ill-tempered horse, had been stabled when they arrived at the diarn’s estate—but Visk and Ponder preferred the wilderness.

Kianthe pouted. “Okay, but we agreed on that before pirates came into play.”

“Key, remember the dragons. And the fiery hells they can bring on our dearest friends if we don’t appease them.” Reyna squeezed her arm reassuringly. “I saw a ship sailing upriver; I think Visk and I can catch it. It shouldn’t take long.”

“But— pirates .”

“You are an international icon. A negotiator of the highest accord, one who has a very important mission here.” Reyna smirked. “I’m merely a tea maker; I’ll hardly be missed.”

Kianthe grumbled under her breath. “Tea makers don’t hunt pirates.”

Reyna tilted her head, her mind already sailing upriver with that ship. “Curious. The ones from the Queendom do.”

A flurry of wings beat the air as their griffons landed in the clearing. Visk—a massive beast with deep brown coloring—chittered, nibbling first Kianthe’s hair, then Reyna’s tunic. His daughter Ponder—who was a bit larger than a house cat right now and growing every day—landed on Reyna’s shoulder, undoing her meticulous bun as the baby creature scrabbled onto Reyna’s head, wings spread for balance.

Diarn Arlon had stopped short, since anyone sensible was cautious about approaching griffons, wild or not.

Reyna pushed Ponder back into the air, then smoothly mounted Visk. Unlike a horse, griffons didn’t use saddles, but Visk didn’t move until Reyna was well-situated.

“This hopefully won’t take long.” Her eyes flashed to Diarn Arlon, and amusement infiltrated her tone. “Enjoy the politics, love.”

Kianthe grumbled, stalking petulantly to the diarn.

Meanwhile, Reyna clicked her tongue, and Visk took to the skies.