Chapter 39
thirty-nine
Nesrina fears she is dead.
Nes awoke in a dark tomb. Her head pounded and she breathed in the repulsive smell of rotting flesh.
Oh my gods, I’m dead.
She flailed, half out of panic and half to see if she could. It worked, and she ended up falling off her cot, onto the floor.
A low, rumbling growl rent the air.
Shit, shit. Nesrina stayed on the ground, hoping to the gods that her captor would go away. Another rumble. A snore. She sighed into her arm before breathing in again. Oh, ew, comfrey.
It hadn’t been rotting flesh she’d smelled, but a healing poultice bandaged to her forearms. The room was dark, and she couldn’t see much of anything, but if she was right, the cold hearth was ahead, and the door was to her right.
She would escape. She had to. Kas Kahoth, connoisseur of fine facts, definitely needed to know about her recent breakthrough on the subject of love. He deserved the knowledge.
Nesrina’s attacker snored loudly. He sat in a chair facing her cot. She could make out the darker form of his silhouette in the black room. He had a horse outside, somewhere. She’d need it to get away. With a quiet but necessary round of calming breaths, she steeled herself for what had to be done.
Drawing on her chaos, Nes wove a large dagger, closer to a short-sword than a pocketknife. Carefully, on bare feet, she crept around behind the sleeping figure. Where are my lened shoes? She’d had them on earlier.
Her kidnapper shifted, and a surge of energy jolted her into action.
Deftly, she yanked his head back and placed the sharp edge of her blade against his skin.
The man’s eyes snapped open, their whites barely visible in the gloom.
A burst of wind propelled Nes back, but she clung to her captor for dear life.
While its intention failed, the bluster had the secondary effect of clearing away the smell of her poultice.
Nes inhaled as she prepared to slide the blade against her attacker’s throat.
His scent overwhelmed her, a heady blend, familiar and cozy.
Flinging out her arm, she dropped her knife, and dissipated it back to chaos before it could clatter to the floor. Releasing him, she stepped back with an, “Oh!”
He stood and moved toward her in one long step, sweeping her into an embrace. “Mi rasdekina. You’re safe. You’re all right.” Kas breathed against the crown of her head.
She wanted to sink into him but stiffened instead. There was something niggling at her. Like she was leaving on holiday and forgot to pack a necessity.
Kas released her without warning and went to the door. “You should lie back down.”
He left the room, his room. She was in his chambers. Oh. Kas called for a healer as his muffled voice drifted away.
Said healer arrived soon after, along with one of the housemaids, a firebearer, who flung flames out to each of the candles before she slipped away.
The healer, a gruff older man named Letif, ushered Nesrina back to Kas’s bed and checked her over. He told her she was not to get up for at least another day; they’d be bringing a hearty stew soon and she needed to eat it all, every drop.
Nes nodded as she reclined against a stack of pillows, even finer quality than those on her bed upstairs. “How long have I been here?”
“Two days.”
She balked.
The healer packed up his kit as he muttered additional instructions.
One of his staff would come in a few hours to change out her bandages.
If she needed to use the washroom, the distance between the bed and the bathing chamber was acceptable.
Though, she was not to walk there alone and must always ring for assistance.
“I feel fine . . . ish,” Nes amended. “I’m safe here, I don’t think I require an escort within the duke’s apartment.”
Letif pierced her with his stern gaze. “It’s not a guard, Miss Kiappa. You’ve lost quite a lot of blood. You’ll be faint for a time still and will require physical support.”
Not a guard . . .
A realization slammed into her, stealing her breath away. “I need to speak with the duke.”
“He’s with the prince.” Letif moved toward the door.
“How is Ataht?”
“Recovering well.”
Nes sighed, thanking the gods.
“Remember to stay put, Miss Kiappa. I’ll tell Lord Kahoth you’ve asked for him after he’s done spending time with the prince.”
Letif made it clear who he believed took priority. To be fair, Ataht was up there. But she needed to speak with Kas immediately, it involved their safety—all of them.
The moment the door closed, she hopped down from the bed and shuffled into the bathing chamber.
She was fine . . . ish, as long as she kept a hand on the wall for balance.
She tugged Kas’s robe off the hook and wrapped it around herself to cover her thin shift.
His scent enveloped her, reminding her of that hug, of the night she’d snuck in, of the symposium, of everything.
She shivered, popped the panel, and began to climb the stairs very, very gingerly.