Chapter 3 #2
“It does, but not without focus. And if you’re too focused on the wrong thing, our magic can get out of control. That’s why it’s incredibly important for us to learn how to release our power.”
“That’s why you taught us the breathing thing?”
“It is.” Nesrina held her hands out for the dolls and swapped them for fresh creations. “Now tell me what you know about Domossan sensory magic.”
As the lesson wound down, with their heads hat-free, the prince and princess chatted and made their own animated dolls and figurines. Their little miniature knights on horses were working against all odds to rescue a princess who was under attack by a terrifying dragon, coming to steal her away.
“It’s blue,” Ataht insisted.
“No, it’s green.”
“It looks kind of blue sometimes, and green sometimes, yeah?”
“Yeah. That’s how the scales are.” The princess nodded.
Nesrina leaned back on her arms, tipping her face toward the sun, eyes closed in bliss as the children debated the qualities of their imaginary dragon. A shadow passed over, and she cracked open one lid as it reappeared overhead.
She leapt up as the creature circled again and locked eyes on them. Its jaws opened wide, revealing a mouth of sharp teeth that sparkled as it beat its wings and began its attack.
“All right, I need—” Nes was cut off by a squeaky roar and an unfurling banner, for lack of a better description.
A glowing orange-red flap of not-fabric, but not fire, rolled from the dragon’s mouth.
The approximation of flames seemed to burn bright, and heat flowed from it as the beast passed over their heads.
Oh, shit! How?! Could one of them produce light and heat along with their base magic? She could manage temperature, but never luminescence.
“Uh oh,” one of the twins commented nervously, yanking Nes out of her thoughts.
“I need you to stay calm, and whichever one of you created our new friend needs to tell me so we can breathe through this and let it go.”
“It wasn’t me!” Ataht shrieked, cowering beneath his hands as the dragon swooped again, this time mercifully not blasting faux flame at them.
“Wasn’t me!”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t me!” Nesrina replied, agitated and beginning to worry that the monstrosity might hurt one of them. “It must have been one of you!”
“It wasn’t!” the twins screeched in unison.
Both. The word zipped into her mind and stuck there. They both created it. Shit. The young prince and princess were far more powerful than she imagined, on par with her, apparently, when their powers were combined.
As much as Nes wanted to coach them into releasing the magic without her interference, their safety and her job were at risk. She had no choice but to act as the creature dove again, flying straight toward them, its floppy fire-banner lolled from its mouth, long enough to crisp the green grass.
Great, now she was responsible for destruction of the palace grounds, too. Nes shot her own magic into the air, creating a golden bird to draw the dragon’s attention away.
How did this happen? The abomination flew so close to the palace she was afraid the king’s soldiers would appear on the battlements to shoot it down. When it was in hot pursuit of her golden bird, she instructed the children to scatter. “Get to the trees!”
“Miss Kiappa!” Della screamed.
“Behind you!”
Nes spun to face the illusion head on, raising her palm and coiling in as much chaos as she could manage as the dragon unfurled its flame-tongue in her direction.
Heat licked her face, and she smelled the acrid scent of singed hair when the faux fire came too close for comfort.
In a burst of golden birds, she released her magic, willing them to lead the horrible creature away before splitting off in a dozen directions—a distraction tactic that mercifully worked.
“Come,” she shouted, arms open. The kids launched into her, nearly knocking her over as they quivered in fear. “My friends,” she kept her voice calm, a true feat, “I want you both to close your eyes.”
They gazed up at her, eyes definitely not closed.
“I’ve got you, don’t worry, it’s all right to relax.” Adella burrowed into her chest, and Ataht tucked himself beneath her arm. “Now take a deep breath through your nose . . . and out through your mouth.”
The twins kept up their breathing while she murmured reminders that the dragon was not real, it was only a silly squeaking shell they created, it was harmless—a lie, but a critical one in the moment—and that they had to relax together and wish it gone as a team.
She heard the pop as the creature vanished.
“My little royals,” Nesrina began, and the ten-year-olds peeled open their eyes, “that was an interesting first lesson, wouldn’t you say?”
They relaxed in her hold.
“Is it gone?” Della whispered.
“It is. I know that was very scary, but you were fantastic at remaining calm and releasing the magic you created.”
“How did we do it together?” Ataht asked. “We haven’t done that before.”
Miss Kiappa released the kids and dipped slightly, bringing herself eye level with the two of them. “Naughtbirins come in pairs. You have a powerful twin connection, and since you were imagining the same thing at the same time, you created it together. Which one of you can make light?”
“Me!” Adella proclaimed. “Like Dad.”
“I do hot and cold,” Ataht announced. “Like no one.”
“That’s not true, I can influence temperature too. It looks like you have fun gifts to explore. But with our type of magic, only the weaver can release their own illusion. When you make something together, you have to be extra conscious of that.”
They looked at her curiously. “We don’t understand,” Adella replied on behalf of her and her sibling.
She chuckled. “You will, in time. Tomorrow we’ll practice releasing what we create. And my friends . . .?”
“Yes?”
“What do you say we keep this between us?”
They eagerly agreed, tension melting from their frames. She felt the same relief at deciding not to tell the royals about the mayhem, and a greater sense of calm when she spied the handsome guard approaching their outdoor classroom.
The Duke of Stormhill went straight back to the library after lunch.
He’d been forced by his sister to join her for yet another meal.
Eating wasn’t the problem; it was breaking from his work that bothered him.
But, as always, once Hevva ripped him from his reverie and had him seated with a plate in his face and her conversation in his ear, he enjoyed himself—enough.
Back in the company of books, where he felt most secure, Kas selected one of the chairs on the upper balcony overlooking the west lawn to, hopefully, get back to his holiday. Opening his text and the notes he’d been carrying around, he settled in.
With his two estates in the safe hands of his stewards, he’d arrived at the palace on a dual-purpose mission the week before: to visit his family, and further his pleasure projects in the two large libraries.
The trip went to plan for several days. He worked in the morning, lunched with his sister, worked in the afternoon, dined with the family, played with the twins, worked in the evening, slept, and repeated.
It was a steady routine. Until it wasn’t.
First, she was in the grand hall. Her. His distraction. The woman from the bloody symposium.
Kas’s heart had beat so hard he thought it might crack a rib.
He’d lost control of his magic for the first time in over a decade, inadvertently hitting her with a breeze before pulling back and pretending he hadn’t seen her approach.
It had been two years—one year and ten months, to be exact—and she’d never seen him.
But she did then. And he botched it, of course.
Then his sister, or the fates, he wasn’t sure whom, decided to fuck with him by putting the mysterious woman in the room next to his suite.
Then, she turned up at dinner. Though he couldn’t say he minded her presence, any of the times, in any of the places, it threw him off kilter. It messed with his plans.
After so many years of wondering who she was, he’d been mortified to learn she was the daughter of Hothan Tarisden.
But he wasn’t totally surprised. It made sense.
He’d idolized that man as a teenager, corresponded with him for many years until they eventually lost touch.
It saddened Kas to hear of his passing, and he’d need to make his condolences known.
He just couldn’t believe he didn’t realize she, the woman from the symposium, was Hothan’s daughter.
To be fair, Hothan was very tall, and Miss Kiappa was very short .
. . still, their intellect should’ve tipped him off.
Earlier that morning, he was deep in an article on the lexical differences between the people of western and eastern Selwas when she surprised him.
He hadn’t been on his best behavior, scolding her for her food, but the next time they conversed, Kas vowed to do better and stop being such a curmudgeon.
It wasn’t her fault he’d scheduled these three weeks specifically to free his mind of distractions, so he could make headway on his personal work.
His dukedom and his earldom consumed quite a lot of time, and Kas was counting on his holiday.
Now she was there, twenty or so feet away, following behind his rambunctious niece and nephew as they made their way out onto the west lawn, marring—no, enhancing, definitely enhancing—his idyllic view.
She was in the same pale pink dress as when she’d interrupted his morning work. Miss Kiappa was too far to see in detail, but Kas recalled the way the floral fabric clung to her curves up close.
Work. He was supposed to be doing work. This was his time, no mining efforts to strategize for his earldom, no agricultural efforts to weigh in on for the dukedom, no construction projects under way—just him and his books and whatever topic he felt like exploring next.