Chapter 5
five
Kas fears a distraction.
“They’re expected in six hours, my lord.” A servant delivered Kas’s breakfast and answered his question before ducking out of the room.
He’d ordered the meal as a consolation prize after thoughts of her pulled him from his project, yet again. Absolutely ridiculous. It would have been more productive to ride out and survey the overland drainage being put in in quadrant seven—more productive than daydreaming of Miss Kiappa.
Gods. She wasn’t that interesting.
He thought he’d get over this passing interest after one year and ten months. Yet here he was, still, and he had a name to go with the rest of her.
Kas sniffed, and Lellin, his oldest wolfhound, lifted her head from her spot near the fire to let out a whine.
Tossing her a strip of bacon, he said, “For you, old girl.” She might be named for the ancient goddess of death, but the real Lellin hadn’t come for her yet, and he’d had the hound since he was a teen.
As he finished the last of his meal, Kas took what was left of his tea and moved to his apartment’s patio to gaze at the loch.
Lellin joined him and sprawled upon the sun-warmed tiles.
The distant shore of Karova was invisible across the vast, fog-laden expanse, but he still spotted a few small boats, fishermen and pleasure-seekers, dotting the nearby waves.
None went past, or even got close to, the small island in the middle that marked the border with the tribal-run lands to the east.
What will she think of the view? How would the illustrious Miss Kiappa find his estate and his humble home at Stormhill? Fine, maybe not humble, but smaller than the palace.
With a heavy sigh, laden with too many responsibilities and not enough free time to follow his whims, Lord Kahoth reflected on those days at Kirce.
Each time he ran back over the details, he noticed something new.
It was getting to the point where he couldn’t help but question both his sanity and the reliability of said memories.
Still, he let his mind skate over their meetings again.
It was better than replaying when he’d spotted her at the symposium for the thousandth time.
He really did have a lot to do, and if her stay at Stormhill was anything like Kirce, he’d be drawn to her like a moth to certain death from the moment she arrived to the moment she left.
There was a significant difference between the golden-clad woman from the symposium, whom he’d memorialized like one of the gods and popped up on a pedestal, and the flesh and blood creature who’d stood before him at the palace—who was coming to stay at his home.
Sighing mid-sip, Kas blew a splatter of tea into his face. He swiped the mess away and lingered, dragging his palm down his cheek. She wasn’t all that interesting, a distraction more than anything else. If he cleared a few things off his never-ending to-do list, maybe he could consider her more.
For now, it was time to get back to work. Mouth caught somewhere between a scowl and smile, Kas made his way to his study to write to his steward in Kabuvirib, double-check the last quarter’s accounts, and make headway on his personal pursuits.
Aknock on the study door tore Kas away from his notes. Bleary-eyed, he grumbled under his breath and attempted to focus on the two overlapping door handles hovering across the room.
“What?” he barked, squeezing his eyes closed to reset his vision. Too many small words for too many hours always did that to him.
Thera, his housekeeper, responded, her muffled voice kindly as always, even in response to his attitude, “They’re here.”
His heart rate spiked, and he began shuffling papers.
“Sorry,” he offered when he finally opened the door. Across the hall, Thera stood with her arms crossed over her enormous bosom. “Work.”
She nodded before turning toward the main entrance.
Kas followed her onto the steps where, a few hundred yards away, a pair of carriages rumbled toward Stormhill, backed by a cloud of dust kicked up by their horses.
He muttered something about not having any more time to finish his tasks, missing deadlines, and so on and so forth. Despite protestations, his heart danced a happy little jig he found quite obnoxious.
“My lord?” Thera looked up at him.
“Hmph. It’s nothing.” It was nothing, he needed to stop being such a grump.
The twins were coming, ostensibly because their magic was out of control.
But on his recent visit to Serkath, Kas learned from Hevva that there were other, potentially darker, issues at play that the king and queen wanted to protect their family from.
It wasn’t anything to be concerned about, Hevva claimed, minor rumblings about a potential usurper working behind the scenes.
It reminded Kas of when the late Duke of Kashoorcih had tried to garner support to overthrow Ehmet over a decade earlier.
But his sister assured him this was nowhere near that level of annoyance.
The first carriage came to a stop, closely followed by the second. Before the coachmen even had a chance to hop down and open the doors, the front coach flew open and a whirlwind containing two tiny gremlins burst forth.
“Uncle Kas! Uncle Kas!” one, or both of the twins screeched as they raced across the cobbled drive.
Crouching, he threw his arms wide, silently reaffirming his standing promise to keep them safe from harm.
“My little hellions.” He squeezed the children into a tight hug, bonking their heads together.
“Ow!” Della cried.
Ataht laughed, bringing a small hand up to rub his temple.
“Are we on holiday?” Something about Della’s huge puppy dog eyes had Kas wondering whether her question was genuine, or a feeble attempt to avoid lessons. He knew the move well from several years spent as a youth. Though he couldn’t say he’d ever tried to avoid learning something new.
“You are not. I am not. We both have school and work to get done.” He tousled the princess’s hair.
“Stop that!” she squeaked, bringing both hands up in an attempt to smooth down her silvery locks.
“Why can’t we have a holiday, Uncle Kas?”
Kas watched as the first carriage’s coachman folded down a set of steps in front of the door. That bloody blond soldier climbed out, then extended a hand back inside to aid her—his distraction—in her departure from the vehicle.
Miss Kiappa twisted sideways as she came through the doorway, and her dress snagged on something inside, pulling the skirts tight against her shapely legs for the briefest moment. For having such a petite build, she sure has a delightfully rounded—
“Uncle Kas?” Ataht prodded impatiently.
“We’ll have a holiday next month when we meet your parents at Summer Cottage for—”
“Yay!” The twins’ volume forced Kas back to his full height.
Despite retracting himself from the group hug, the children stayed close, clinging with two hands each to his much larger ones.
“I’ll take the prince and princess to their rooms.”
Thera nodded, watching the familial interaction with a small smile on her weathered face. She knew the twins well. And him. And his sister. Thera had been on staff at Stormhill since before his parents brought him into the world, when Hevva was a few years old.
The duke continued, tipping his head toward the second carriage. “Please, show them to their rooms.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I’ll escort Miss Kiappa to the Tarisden Suite.”
Thera’s eyes widened.
“I need her near the children. Their magic.” He shrugged.
She nodded with a quick sidelong glance at the tutor, who was, at the moment, standing some distance from the group, gazing doe-eyed at the stupid, rosy-faced member of the guard.
“Miss Kiappa.” Effective, but harsher than he’d intended, Kas immediately drew her attention.
The early-evening sun cast molten copper across her lovely heart-shaped face.
She stood, framed in a halo of gold, with light illuminating the jumble of waves that had escaped her thick braid.
And he smiled, a little, when she squinted and surveyed the house.
Blinded by the sunlight bouncing off the windows, she raised a dainty hand to her brow and scanned the facade until her eyes found him—no, found the twins.
His beautiful distraction hurried over to join them, and he couldn’t help the way his chest tightened.
She’s here. “Thank you for joining us.”
Miss Kiappa’s face reddened, and she studied the cobbles. “I’m sorry for the delay, Your Grace.”
Damn it, did he sound like an arse? There was nothing for it. In an attempt to earn her goodwill, he offered to carry her bag. Which she accepted.
Hefting her large tote, he asked, “What is in here? An entire library?”
“About half?” Her smile was small, but it was there. He saw it.
Still holding Della’s hands and prodding Ataht with a palm of air, Kas turned their trio toward the main door.
A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Miss Kiappa rooted to the cobbles, her eyes darting back and forth between Thera and the other staff members, and the twins and him.
She rubbed the fingers of her right hand together nervously. It was adorable.
“Come along, Miss Kiappa.” There. That was the kinder tone he’d been aiming for earlier. “I’m pleased to welcome you to Stormhill.”
Though she followed behind, Kas was fairly certain she let out a little gasp when they made it into the entrance hall.
His manor was nowhere near as grand as Kirce Palace, but he was proud of his ancestral home.
He’d put in work to make it his own after unexpectedly assuming the dukedom three years earlier.
“Oh, I love what you’ve done with the place,” the princess squeaked, sounding so much like a miniature version of Hevva that a laugh leapt from his chest.
“Thank you, Della.” He grinned.
“I liked it better before.” Ataht shared his opinion, too.
“Oh!”