Chapter 2
two
Nesrina doesn’t love pink.
Achambermaid whisked Nes through the halls while peppering her with information about the twins’ schedule and their team of two nannies and two academic tutors.
With business out of the way, the maid lapsed into silence, and nothing but the tap tap tap of their shoes marked their movement down the spacious corridor.
They stopped before a glossy white panel, one of four in the short hallway, and when the young woman pushed open the door, Nes thought she’d died and gone to the stars.
The chamber was a dream come true . . . a very pink, very patterned, very plush dream come true.
Perhaps a little too pink for her tastes, but she couldn’t deny the room was gorgeous.
“Are you certain this is for me?” Nes breathed, peering in, unwilling to step over the threshold, positive a miscommunication must have happened somewhere along the line.
“Yes, my lady. Queen’s orders.” The maid bowed her head, looking terrified, as if Nesrina herself were a noble—a rude one, too—like that man from the grand hall.
As though her thoughts unwittingly summoned him, boot heels on the parquet called her attention down the long corridor to her left. His dark clothing and hair stood in stark contrast with the white paneled walls as he ambled in her direction, eyes cast down.
Go into the study. Go down the stairs. Turn. Turn. Turn.
He kept coming. She didn’t think he noticed her but couldn’t be sure.
It wasn’t as if he’d shout down the hall, “Potential staff shouldn’t be on this level!
” . . . probably. Still, fear of facing another awkward encounter vastly outweighed any trepidation Nes felt about entering her new room.
In a panicked move, she dashed in and hopped off to the side, crouching behind a dresser.
“Are you well, my lady?” The maid stepped into the doorway.
“Yes,” she squeaked in a whisper as the reedy man drifted past. One of the doors at the end of her short hall clicked closed, and she cursed under her breath—in Old Tongue so it still passed as ladylike.
“Of course, my lady. I’ll return in two hours to take you to dinner. Ring if you need anything.” She gestured to a cord on the wall, then dipped a curtsy and pulled the enormous door closed.
Nesrina slumped, releasing some of the tension wracking her. Only some, because she still had an important dinner to attend with the royal family. Shaking out her limbs in an effort to reset, she set about exploring her new room. So very pink.
Her massive bed looked plush, but pink. There was a tower sitting area—yes—with two pink chairs, and a private bathing chamber, with a tub that had taps—not pink.
Don’t lose yourself to the glitz. Nes recalled her papa’s proverb as she knelt beside her bathtub, eyeing the rushing water with reverence.
A familiar pulse of curiosity bled through her veins as she studied the technology.
Papa had told her about the palace’s indoor water, but she could not comprehend how it might function.
It must be the work of watercoursers. Making a mental note to learn more to share with her mother, a watercourser, she left the tub filling, gave the spigot a little pat, and went to unpack.
She wasn’t getting lost, she was learning.
With her finest dress drenched from the rain soaking through her bag, Nes settled for second best: a deep blue one with a wide neck that dipped below her collarbones.
It was an affordable plaid wool, it traveled well, and the style was acceptable, if not the newest fashion.
None of her clothes were from the current season, so it didn’t much matter what she picked.
When Papa unexpectedly passed, income came to a near standstill.
The money from Mama’s work as a laundress didn’t offer much, and what they did have went toward his funeral expenses and their mourning attire.
Black and lavender filled her meager closet for a full year.
And although Nes had been out of mourning for another year since, she hadn’t been willing to spend the coin on anything new when her old dresses were functional.
That was before the summons from the king.
Now, she wished she’d bought at least one or two new items.
For a brief moment, she considered creating a gown. It would be easy to pull one together with her magic. She had a few styles memorized for the odd formal occasion, and this fit the bill. But it wouldn’t be wise to split her focus, not when her own clothing was perfectly acceptable.
With that settled, she set off to impress the royal family.
Afamiliar golden-haired guard stood by the door outside the king and queen’s private dining chamber.
With a decidedly flirtatious smile, Rihan stepped forward, his voice barely a whisper as he said, “Sorry to have missed you earlier. We rotate shifts every few hours, to cover breaks.”
She nodded, hoping her blush hadn’t climbed past her neckline. She hated when that happened.
“I was covering for Aram when you met with the king, but now I’m on duty.”
He probably shouldn’t be telling her, a near stranger, quite so much about the guard rotations, but who was she to judge?
Instead, Nes smiled and nodded along as he spoke about shift changes and assignments, finding his handsome visage a welcome balm to the stress of her day.
Eventually, he remembered his duties and opened the door for her.
Thanking him, Nesrina was stepping forward, when a noise drew her attention down the hall.
That rude man ambled her way, yet again.
He’d changed his jacket, but there was no mistaking his wild hair or his imposing height.
Luckily, he seemed deep in thought, offering her a moment to escape and avoid possible confrontation.
She bestowed a smile on Rihan, then fled through the doorway to face the king and queen.
Already seated at the circular table, King Hethtar and Queen Hevva chatted quietly, sipping their goblets of wine. They stood when she entered, and Nes half-expected a butler or other servant to announce her arrival. But no one else was there.
The pair were dressed far more casually than earlier: the queen in a deceptively simple periwinkle gown that Nes could tell, even from a distance, was made of fine silk; and the king in a solid white tunic, his top buttons undone and chest hair poking free.
He reminded her of her father, and she swallowed down the bitter taste of melancholy.
Had they dressed down for her sake? Or was this how they typically dined?
“We like to keep things casual, whenever possible.” The king’s words from earlier rattled by, reassuring her she’d made the right choice by not crafting a glamorous dress for the meal.
“Miss Kiappa, welcome,” King Hethtar boomed, and she wondered if he was capable of a whisper.
Nes curtsied as his wife said, “The twins will join us shortly. Adella and Ataht are excited to meet you.”
Sitting in the chair the queen indicated, Nesrina crossed her ankles and tangled her fingers atop her lap. There were two empty seats to her left, between her and the king, and a single chair to her right, between her and the queen.
As if on cue, the door opened and the twins scampered in. The ten-year-olds were nearly the same height, but similarities ended there. Where Princess Adella was slender and fair-haired like her mother, Prince Ataht was stockier and had his father’s chestnut waves.
Nes moved to stand in the presence of the young royals, but the queen tutted softly and motioned that she should remain seated.
“Are you our new tutor?” the girl squealed as she bounced over and sat on Nesrina’s left.
The boy hurtled past, flying into the seat between his sister and papa so fast she thought the entire chair might tip. The king tossed out a steadying hand and scooted his son closer to the table.
“Della, Ataht, we have someone for you to meet.” Queen Hevva ignored their question, coaxing them to behave, all with the tone of her voice.
The twins sat tall on their chairs, and Nes had a feeling they were as settled and patient as they could manage. Two sets of legs swished beneath the table while they awaited their mother’s next words.
Introductions were made all around, and as Nesrina returned the princess’s adorable and unprompted handshake, several servants bustled in to place an array of dishes before them.
“Hmph,” the king grunted, looking pointedly at the empty chair on Nes’s right.
“I know.” The queen spoke softly, though her tone carried annoyance as well. Nesrina didn’t miss the way Queen Hevva placed her palm on the king’s burly forearm, placating him from whatever was bothering them both.
“Let’s eat,” King Hethtar proclaimed, the empty dining chair forgotten as he reached for a serving spoon that appeared normal-sized in his gigantic hands.
When their plates were filled, he raised his glass. “May we give thanks to the great people of Duhra whose toil ensures food upon our tables. May the gods bless our homes with honey, wheat, meat, and mead for many years to come.”
“To Duhra,” the group intoned.
“And to Selwas, may our forests grow green, our rivers reach the sea, and our honey flow free, forevermore.”
“To Selwas, forevermore.” They spoke in unison, lifted their goblets, and drank to the toast.
Not for the first time, Nes wondered how old the words of the common pre-meal toast could possibly be.
Each of the four territories were thanked: Selwas, their home, a huge producer of honey; Gramenia in the west, respected for its great harvests; Karova in the east, the land of meat and fur; and Domos in the north, best known for their delicious whiskies and decadent wines.
The words could be as old as the territories themselves. Older perhaps.