Art by Brooklynn Bourdeau

This is a "Tasting," a short-short story inspired by a tea I made at my tea company. This particular one is for the "Red Wedding," a cardamom vanilla black tea. I suggest ordering a little bag of the tea to drink while reading the story, but I'm certainly not biased in this matter.

She smiled with her heart, which translated into her face as happiest grin it could muster. Her wife laughed.

“You have the stupidest grin on your face right now.”

“You’re my wife. How can I not be stupidly happy?”

“Say that again.”

“You’re my wife.”

“I’m never gonna get tired of that.”

They kissed and the crowd cheered, and Tulsi blushed. “They’re like a damn cue card. We kiss, they cheer.”

“It’s a wedding, love. I think that comes with the territory.”

“Our wedding.”

“Our wedding.” Saanvi kissed her again to much noise and excitement. “I’m gonna rock your world tonight, baby,” she muttered as they knocked their foreheads together.

“Not if I rock yours first.”

“Is it time for tea?”

“I think it’s time for tea.”

Saanvi rose and faced the crowd, mostly her family and their friends. Tulsi’s family was small to begin with, and those left didn’t support their idea of love much. The crowd they had was excited, exuberant, and elated.

“Thank you all so much for coming, it means the world to us. Thank you for supporting us through the battles we’ve faced, both literal and metaphorical. We fought long and hard, but the war is over. This is as much a celebration of the end of the bloodshed as it is of our love.

“And thank you for this enormous stack of gifts towering in the corner of the room. I don’t know where we’ll put all of it, but I can tell you we appreciate each and every one. Thank you all for your extreme generosity.

“Now if you wouldn’t mind engaging in some ceremony, I’d like to have tea. We have tea masters here for the tables, but my good buddy Vivaan wanted to make ours. Mom, Dad, if you could please join us. Dhruv, Sara, you guys too. Aarav and Aanya… Well, I guess you can come.”

The crowd laughed, and their pre-ordained tablemates joined them at their round table. Their mutual friend walked through the small gap in the table and situated himself in the hole at the dead center.

Saanvi passed him a tin and smiled. “Thank you for doing this for us, Vivaan.”

“Anything for you beautiful ladies. You both look so great. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier.”

“Thanks, Viv.” Tulsi let a tear slip out and smiled. “It’s a good day.”

He opened the tin and the smell of spice washed over the table. Rich cardamom mixed with a smooth Vanilla from across the world, all wrapped around a simple black tea base. The perfect makings of a traditional wedding tea.

Vivaan scooped them into the teapot, swished it about, smelled, looked at the color, swished it again, then poured over the cups, letting an amber-gold colored liquid spill from the pot. They all took in the smell and smiled. Tulsi sipped, and groaned at the flavor. She could tell, he went out of his way sourcing the best quality spices possible for this blend.

“It’s incredible, Viv.”

“Thanks. You deserve it all.”

“All?”

“Something good, before—”

A scream cut him off, and they whipped around to a spray of blood and multiple tables littered with corpses. Viv drew a sword from inside his coat and swiftly beheaded the guests at their table. Before she could scream, the blade sunk into Saanvi’s throat.

Tulsi stared at the room of dead and the teamasters cleaning their blades, then at her friend.

“Why?”

“The war is never over. Just delayed for a time. Your people killed my family, my friends… Your wife killed my brother herself. She just didn’t know it…”

“But… But I thought—” His blade cut her off, letting her head fall to the side, her eyes staring wide at nothing.

“No more lies,” he wiped his blade. “No more lies.”