For a moment, Zaeryn thought Viora hated the coffee.
The way she set the cup down, that careful, deliberate control, it had the energy of someone trying very hard not to insult their host. And she was royalty. Maybe she was expecting some rare imported blend from the northern mountains, not whatever Ysmeine kept in the plain ceramic canister by the stove.
But then Viora picked the cup back up.
She took another sip, taking it slow this time, and her eyes did this thing where they went distant and focused at the same time, like she was trying to solve a particularly interesting puzzle with her taste buds.
"This is incredible," she said, and the surprise in her voice was so genuine it almost sounded like an accusation. "Where did you get this blend?"
"Oh, it's nothing special," Ysmeine said, which was a complete lie. Everything Ysmeine made was special, she just didn't like admitting it. "Just something I've been working on. I roast the beans myself, mix in a few things."
