Chương 24: Chapter 23: The Tea Test

Once the tears dried and her friend's embrace slowly calmed her, relief washed over her with unexpected force, like a wave cleansing the shore after a storm. But the sunset, its coppery light staining the waters of the estuary, reminded them of the tyranny of time, that implacable demand for a roof that only waited until the sun touched the western edge of the wall. Kaela patted her head as they pulled apart, a gesture so simple and maternal it made Selena's heart ache.

Then, with a smile of pure adolescent mischief, the tanner spoke: —We're late again— And without another word, she began to run. Selena followed. She ran breathlessly behind her, feeling her legs stretch into longer and longer strides. Kaela's figure danced ahead of her, dodging passersby and weaving through obstacles; panting, Selena discovered that in this frantic race toward shelter, there was something that already began to feel like a habit a shared one. A few minutes later, they neared the hostel.

They stopped at the corner, doubled over, lungs burning and laughter bubbling up between gasps. Then they saw the scene, and what they witnessed unleashed a playful laugh that shook their tired bodies with the liberating force of the unexpected. Anya, the sister of charity the practical, maternal woman who handed out chores and comfort with equal efficiency was whispering into Kael's ear.

The impassive guardian, the man of stone who always looked like a statue carved from granite, listened with his head tilted slightly toward her. And then it happened: a faint, almost imperceptible flush crept up his weathered cheeks. Kael the serious one, the quiet one, the one who responded to Anya's jokes with a silence that seemed eternal was blushing like a teenager. When Anya saw his reaction and mirrored the gesture, it was she who turned red in turn, covering her mouth with the back of a flour-stained hand.

Selena and Kaela looked at each other. No words were needed. The complicity that blossomed between them in that instant was stronger than any confession. They approached on tiptoe, with the caution of those who do not want to break a spell but cannot resist witnessing it. When they were close enough, they interrupted the moment with the deliberate clumsiness of someone clearing their throat to announce their presence. Anya straightened up like spring.

The blush, far from fading, spread across her face with intensity. She pressed her lips together, seeking a composure that slipped through her fingers like water, and though she didn't comment on the moment, even as her eyes avoided meeting the girls, she ushered them both inside without a single word about their lateness.

It was while she was guiding them toward Elara's office, in that brief trek over packed earth and gravel stones, that the confession escaped her lips like a bird that can no longer be contained in its cage. —I was telling him not to worry so much about that scar on his eyebrow— Anya murmured, not daring to look at them, her eyes fixed on the path. —I tell him it makes him look incredibly handsome. Silence lasted for a second. Then, the three of them burst into laughter.

It was a clean, warm laugh that momentarily erased Anya's lines of worry and the shadows of exhaustion from the girls' faces. Complicit glances flew between them like butterflies, and Anya, still flushed but smiling, pulled away from the group with a parting gesture. They had reached Elara's office. The room, as always, seemed frozen in time. The woman's implacable order crystallized everything: the perfectly aligned papers, the stainless tunic, the white hair imprisoned in a bun of surgical precision.

There she sat behind her imposing desk, with the same inscrutable expression as always, as if minutes, hours, and days passed by without being able to touch her. —Kaela, go in first— she said with her usual coldness, and the tanner obeyed. Selena waited outside, listening to the scratch of the quill and the unintelligible murmur of clipped responses. After a few minutes, Kaela came out. On her face was a look of ill-contained annoyance.

The moment her back was turned to the woman, Kaela made a face of disgust exaggerated, theatrical, and directed straight at Selena. The gesture amused her. Selena felt a silly, almost childish smile form on her lips. It seemed absurd, nearly surreal, that this teenage girl making faces behind authority's back was the same one who had comforted her barely an hour ago, the one who had held her while she cried under the shade of the coral tree.

The same one who had moved through her own tragedies and yet still had arms to hold another. The comparison struck her as both strange and beautiful: strength and mischief living together in the same young, weathered body. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. —Selena, come in and sit down. Elara's voice cut through her thoughts with the precision of a scalpel.

Selena obeyed, taking a seat in the straight-backed chair, feeling the rigidity of the furniture straighten her spine almost by reflex. Elara held out the registry sheet and the pen. Selena signed, as she always did, her name traced in that perfect Spanish that was her secret, her silent heresy, her anchor to a world that perhaps only existed now in the recesses of her memory. And then it happened.

Elara the woman of inflexible protocol, of metallic coldness, of words measured like beads on an abacus broke the script. —Child— she said, and her voice, without entirely losing its efficiency, took on a different hue. —I wanted to thank you in a better way for returning the silver crown. Selena looked at her, surprised. Imperturbable, Elara pulled a ceramic teapot decorated with simple but elegant floral motifs from somewhere hidden behind her desk.

She placed two matching cups on the wood —small and delicate— with silver spoons that reflected the yellowish light of the lamp. Then, a small sugar bowl with perfectly carved white cubes. —I shall compensate you with a high-quality tea— Elara continued, pouring the steaming liquid with precise movements. —I understand much would have been lost were it not for your honesty. And Our Lady teaches compassion, gratitude, and the flow that compensates. Selena watched the scene with a mix of awe and mistrust.

Elara, the same woman who had received her with military questions and iron warnings, was offering her tea in a decorated ceramic cup. This was no idle gesture. In this world of scarce resources and daily survival, quality tea, decorated cups, and silver spoons were small luxuries currency of a different value. The woman also produced a small plate with two biscuits. They were tiny, barely one for each, but they were there, like a pact sealed in dough and sugar. Selena was wary.

She had learned in these days of borrowed skin and hostile streets: Elara's gestures were never spontaneous. They were meditated, calculated each word a piece on a board only she knew. But suspicion did not stop her from taking the cup carefully, feeling the warmth of the ceramic against her palms, and adding a sugar cube with the silver spoon.

Elara watched her movements closely, and then, as she slowly sipped her tea, she continued: —Did you know that one of the greatest saints is the saint of justice, of unity, and of the correct cycle? Selena shook her head gently, maintaining the expression of respectful interest she had learned to sculpt onto her face.

—The Book of the Eternal Cycle does not mention his name— Elara went on, her pale fingers stroking the rim of the cup —but he is immortalized in the Holy See of the temple of 'The Root of the World,' in the Great Duchy of Aelthria. Selena nodded, measuring her words with the care of someone walking on thin ice. —I was unaware— she said, putting just the right touch of humility into her voice. —When I arrived here at the temple, I was taught the saints of the days for the first time.

Mother was a believer, but she died when I was a child, and Father only believed in Solendri. I am ignorant of much regarding her. Forgive me. Elara sighed, a sound that, for her, was equivalent to a full declaration of emotion. —It is a pity one does not learn as one should when one is a child. She took one of the biscuits, broke it delicately, and brought half to her lips. Selena, imitating her, did the same with hers. The flavor was subtle a blend of butter and sugar and it tasted exquisite in its simplicity.

—In the Holy Scriptures— Elara continued, chewing slowly, —Aelthra, our adored mother, teaches us that to know the flow is also to understand the problem that leads to its deviation. That is why we must observe those failings. Selena finished her biscuit. Then, her tea. The hot liquid left a smooth, comforting aftertaste in her throat. As she lowered the cup, she noticed that Elara had also finished hers, and that her gray eyes were watching her with a new intensity. Selena looked down at her dress. Crumbs.

Tiny fragments of biscuit had fallen onto the brown fabric, a minimal mess, but visible in the immaculate order of the office. She brushed them off discreetly, trying to make the gesture go unnoticed. It didn't. Elara shook her head slowly. It was a barely perceptible movement but loaded with meaning. Then she spoke again, her voice having that texture of someone closing a circle. —Child, it has been a pleasure to speak of the Scriptures with you.

—She made her usual hand gesture the same as always, the mechanical dismissal. But this time she added: —You may go. Selena rose from the chair. Before turning around, she bowed her head slightly a gesture of respect that wasn't entirely feigned. —Thank you for sharing with me. Elara smiled. It was a brief, bitter smile, almost imperceptible, but Selena saw it. And in that smile, in that fleeting flash that crossed the old woman's impassive face, Selena knew. She had passed another test.

She had known it from the moment Elara broke protocol, from the moment the teapot appeared on the desk, from the moment the biscuits and sugar and silver spoons transformed the office into a stage for silent evaluation. The returned crown hadn't just been an act of honesty; it had been a key, a door.

Elara, with her tea and her questions about saints and Scriptures, had been scrutinizing not just her integrity, but her place in the world, her relationship with faith, her ability to move within the cracks of the established order. By the woman's gesture, by that bitter smile burned into Selena's memory, she knew she had passed. Again. Breaking the erroneous expectations Elara had placed upon her. She walked out of the office with her back straight, feeling the weight of that small victory in her chest.

Outside, night had fallen completely, and the courtyard torches burned with an orange flicker, drawing dancing shadows against the adobe. Kaela was waiting for her, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and an eyebrow arched in that expression that was already so familiar.