Chapter 3
three
Nesrina and Kas do some work.
Morning brought a letter from the queen. A servant’s departure must have awoken Nesrina, because a small tray sat on the table near her door. They’d brought her a muffin, a hot cup of tea, and correspondence.
With the windows open, she welcomed the late spring breeze into her pervasively pink chamber and sat in the tower to look over her schedule. It appeared she had several hours before meeting with the children. Next, she opened the note, peeling away the queen’s seal to find a swirling script:
Miss Kiappa,
We cannot thank you enough for agreeing to join our household. You’ll find the children’s daily schedule attached. Do make yourself at home and enjoy your free time. The grounds are yours to explore. Ehmet and I think you may particularly like the library. Please, borrow any books you desire.
Kindest regards,
Queen Hevva
With a smile, Nes folded up the parchment and tucked it away in one of her desk’s many drawers.
For all the stories her father told her of his time at the palace, it remained untenable, almost fantastical.
And now, here she was, in Serkath. She had her own room at Kirce Palace; she had a note from the queen; she’d dined with the king and his family; and, she was about to take a luxurious bath before exploring the palace library.
Her father’s tales didn’t seem so foreign after all.
An enormous, carved set of doors stood ahead, and Nes let out a happy sigh. With her remaining breakfast in one hand, she stepped inside.
She’d belonged to a small circulating library in Napivol for many years, until her father passed and they could no longer justify the expense. It was one story with eight hundred books, tops.
This was a drastic departure from the thatched roof business back home.
The palace library was two stories with thousands of books, easily.
Standing at the railing, it was easy to imagine her papa in the room, researching mythology in one of those little reading nooks at the ends of the balcony.
Maybe he’d sat in those deep leather chairs tucked between a fig tree and a parlor palm, spending the afternoon critiquing an author he found daft.
“No lened experience. Speaking on what he does not know,” he’d have complained.
Down on the ground floor, tables, chairs, and colorful rugs peppered the ornate parquet.
Maybe Papa had stood at those massive windows and looked out upon the city.
He’d mentioned the room, in his old stories, but he’d never described the view.
Then there were the books—of course—endless, breaking up the vast space and lining every inch of free wall.
Inhaling the scent of old texts and the promise of new knowledge, she made her way to the spiral stairs. First, she’d tour the library in its entirety, try to establish how it was organized, then she’d dive in and explore the texts. Having a plan, no matter how small, always put her mind at ease.
On the ground floor, Nes found herself in a short corridor.
The door to her left surely led back to the stacks, so she pushed through and looked up, ready to begin her perusal.
Rather than walnut shelves stocked with tomes, she faced a tower of black fabric topped with stormy eyes and a disheveled mass of hair.
Biting back a sigh, she lifted her chin nearly ninety degrees.
The infuriating duke towered over her, blocking her path forward.
His height was even more impressive than she’d initially thought. Most people—aside from children—had her beat by several inches, but he dwarfed her. She was fairly certain she was eye level with his nipples. Her cheeks heated, and her breath squeezed out her nose.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was rough, rolling through her, and sending the strangest shiver down her spine.
She stood up a little taller in response. “I—”
“You can’t—” he interrupted with a half sentence and a vague gesture at her muffin. “Hmph.”
“Oh.” Unsure of what to do, or say, Nesrina stuffed the rest of her breakfast into her mouth and stared wide-eyed.
He watched her chew for a single, heart-stopping moment, before returning to the table where he’d apparently been working.
Without another comprehensible word, although he offered a fine sampling of grunts and humphs, he hastily gathered up his papers, slammed his book closed, and faced her again with everything tucked to his chest.
Like a child clutching a dolly. She bit back a laugh that would surely have covered the duke in bits of crumb. Instead, Nes swallowed the last of her muffin and continued to study him with open curiosity. Was he so perturbed that she’d brought food into the library?
With an almost imperceptible, terse nod, the duke hurried from the room.
Well . . . good. She hadn’t intended to spend time with anyone anyway. The pull of books had her straightening her dress and wandering off to explore the shelves, her heart hammering in staccato.
Nesrina’s first day of tutoring went surprisingly well, for a while.
She earned the twins’ immediate love by suggesting they have their lesson outside.
The day was stunning, and she couldn’t help but propose the uncouth idea to the ten-year-olds, who responded with shrieks and little hops of delight.
Out on the west lawn, they began with the basics. To set the tone, Nes offered to make them silly hats to help with the learning.
“I don’t see how this will help,” Prince Ataht pointed out, before asking for a knight’s helmet, complete with a working visor he insisted on keeping closed.
Adella and Nes both wore straw hats. The princess chose a wide-brimmed concoction covered in huge plumes of otherworldly feathers and flowers. Nes made herself a practical bonnet, aside from the absurdly long brim.
Today was about play to help dispel the children’s fears around their abilities. To go along with the hats, she wove them little figurines to enjoy while they conversed.
“Tell me, what do you know about elemental magic?” Nesrina asked as she smoothed the hair on her own magically-crafted doll.
“There are four types,” the prince began. “Water, air, earth, and fire.”
“Maybe five, if we’re elementals!”
“Correct, both of you. Who can tell me how elemental mages operate their magic?”
Princess Adella chewed her lip and made her doll pace.
The prince had an answer. “They can move and make their element using their well of power.” He held out his doll’s hand over a patch of grass, then plucked a bit of the greenery to simulate the doll doing earth magic.
“Good. Would you like to add anything?” she coaxed the princess.
“When the well runs out, their power is used up until they’ve had time to recharge.”
“Fantastic. Is each person’s well the same size?”
“No!” the twins answered in unison before meeting each other’s eyes and devolving into giggles.
She gave them a few moments to calm down before continuing her line of questioning. “What might it mean if someone has a small well?”
“They might be able to make enough water for a pot of tea,” the princess supplied.
“Or maybe they’re strong enough to light one fireplace?”
“That’s a definite possibility. And if they have a very deep well?”
“An earthshaper could carve out a pond.” Adella grinned.
“Yeah, and then their watercourser friend could fill it up!”
“Absolutely.” Nes nodded. “Here’s a tricky question. Would the pond be permanent?”
“Ohhh,” Princess Adella thought aloud while the prince tapped his chin to indicate the same process.
“I don’t think so, because when a watercourser makes it from their hands, it disappears after they stop the magic. The pond would be empty.” Ataht fidgeted with his doll.
“Nuh-uh. It would stay, because when Mum changes the earth, it stays the way she makes it, forever.” Adella spoke reverently.
“Oh.” The boy looked dejected.
“You’re both correct, don’t fret.” Nesrina patted the prince on the back of his hand.
“Even if one of you had been incorrect, that would also be perfectly fine. It’s important to share knowledge and be willing to learn new things.
” She smiled wistfully, wondering if her papa would agree with the sentiment.
He sure had been set in his ways. “Do you want to know why you’re both correct about the pond? ”
“Yes.” Ataht grinned.
“When an elemental mage uses their power to move their element, as it exists in nature, what they do with it is permanent. But when they’ve created the element from within, it disappears once they stop actively producing it.”
“So, if Mum scooped out a hole, and a watercourser filled it up with water from another lake, or the sea, it would stay in the new spot?”
The girl’s statement ended up being more of a question, which Nes affirmed with yet another nod.
“If my mum made a pond out of dirt from her hands, and then someone filled it with water from their hands, then it would all disappear eventually. Right, Miss Kiappa?” Ataht dropped his doll as his confidence grew and the distraction was no longer a necessity.
“Absolutely. The two of you have a wonderful grasp on elemental magic. Now, what about our magic? Do we have a well of power?”
“I don’t think so?” The princess looked to Nesrina.
“Trick question. We do have a well, but we don’t need it to work our magic. All magic works like a muscle. With years of practice, you’ll get stronger. And for us naughtbirins, once we’re as strong as we can be, as long as there are resources to use, we can craft anything we need.”
“Anything at all?” Adella’s eyes grew wide.
“Could you make a person?” Ataht asked.
“Almost anything,” Nesrina clarified. “And no, not flesh and blood, but perhaps a representation. It’s an illusion, an impression of what we’re imagining.”
“If we aren’t using our well of power, does that mean we can hold our creations as long as we want?” the little girl inquired.