Chapter 6 #2
Gazing up at the clouds as she floated, Nes practiced weaving and releasing balls of chaos in the air.
Eventually, she noticed the billowy front that so often hung over the Dhegur Peaks was creeping in their direction, expanding over the lands to the south of the mountain range. A storm was coming soon.
Making her way back to the house, she spotted the duke out for a stroll in the gardens rather than cooped up in his study. He eyed her strangely as she passed, probably wondering at her soaked hair.
Changed into fresh clothes, tangled locks braided, she grabbed her current book and went off to the northern gardens.
There was a great willow tree to read beneath.
Later, one particular guard would get off shift and come to find her.
They’d share a few kisses amidst the summer blooms before heading inside for dinner with their peers.
She had a nice routine.
Rihan held open the north door, ushering her into Stormhill after their . . . walk in the garden. Slipping by, Nes batted her lashes, looking up into his golden-brown eyes.
“Miss Kiappa.”
Her attention was forced from the beam of light that was the guard to the encroaching shadow of the duke.
“Lord Kahoth.” She nodded, retaking Rihan’s arm, ready to continue on her way to the kitchens.
“A word?”
Nesrina stopped before the impossibly tall man, reluctantly letting her guard go. Rihan drifted down the hall, bestowing her one of his signature winks and mouthing, “Have fun,” before disappearing around the corner.
“Yes?”
He had no words, only handed her a letter from her mother and stood there, silently, blocking her egress.
She could walk back outside, but that would be odd. Did he want her to read it in front of him? Never mind his intent, she was too excited to hear from her mama. Breaking open the simple seal, she smiled at the familiar script.
It was a note of thanks for the extra funds.
Mama was now in a position to retire in the coming months.
She hoped Nesrina was doing well, making new friends, getting on with her charges, and— Suddenly aware that the duke stood not three feet away, fiddling with his shirt cuff, Nes pocketed her letter and stopped tapping her foot beneath her skirts.
“Good?” he asked.
“Good news? Yes.” She beamed, far too happy for her mother to care that she was conversing with the bizarre duke. He was, in a roundabout way, the reason for her happiness—him and his shoddy diet. Ah. She should earn that extra coin. “Have you eaten dinner today?”
He grunted. “Is your mother in on this plot to make me gain weight?” His tone was inscrutable.
“She is not, but . . . consider her a stakeholder.”
He snorted, and she hoped it was one of amusement.
She couldn’t make sense of the duke. He seemed to drift about his own home: sometimes in the library, sometimes out in the grass, sometimes in a hallway, standing awkwardly or rushing away.
Was she doing something wrong? It was genuinely hard to tell.
He wasn’t like other aristocrats. Not that she knew many.
Papa always said they were sociable but smarmy, ingratiating when there was something to be gained.
And if there was something for her to gain in return, Nes should tread lightly and get away before she lost herself to the glitz.
It was time to find Rihan—and the staff—and eat with her people in the kitchen.
“I must return to work,” the duke declared, as if she was the one keeping him in the hall.
Perfectly timed. Nesrina smirked as he walked away, his tan trousers tight across his bottom. She wasn’t looking—not really. He towered, and she was tiny. His arse was basically eye level.
“Miss Kiappa—” He paused, and she flung her gaze to a painting of a wolfhound on the wall. “Should the weather turn, the central parlor can be used for your lessons.”
When the door to his office clicked closed, followed by the telltale thunk of the lock sliding into place, Nesrina turned down the north gallery and scurried away to catch up with her guard.
Her third day at Stormhill had ended in a downpour, and her fourth began with a drizzle. It showed no sign of stopping. Nesrina followed her morning routine to a T: breakfast and tea, locate a book to read, read said book, lunch, then teach.
She’d found the central parlor the duke mentioned; it was a spacious and empty room caught between stairwells and salons. Contained, with thick, windowless walls, it proved the perfect place to work with the children.
Nes circled the room as the twins, in the center, focused on a sustaining exercise. With the chaos from two candles, they created usable pens. Their type of magic was tricky to work with: They could make an imitation of anything they imagined, but they had to imagine it precisely in order to do so.
To test their proficiency, they would be writing letters to their parents before releasing their magic.
As Nes looped the room a second time, she noticed the outlines on the walls, and imprints on the floor: great squares and rectangles where paintings and tapestries once hung, and marks where furniture legs engraved divots in the carpet over time.
How thoughtful . . . perhaps. He either had everything removed for their safety, or to protect his possessions. Rubbing her temples, she pictured those flying blades winging around the palace ballroom with all its priceless artifacts.
“We should thank your uncle for his thoughtfulness in preparing this room for us,” she addressed the twins.
“Can we do it now?” Ataht asked, bouncing up and down, ready to scrap his lesson and get on with the day.
“We can’t. He’s busy with work at the moment.”
“He’s always busy with work.” Della sulked. “He never has time to play with us like you do, Miss Kiappa.”
Nes bit back a smile, not wanting to tell the twins that her “playing with them” was definitely a part of her workday. “I understand it’s difficult. I am certain he loves you very much. But when you grow up, you’ll find there’s always work to be done.”
The children grumbled that, if that was the case, they never wanted to grow up.
“My little hellions.” The duke’s voice tumbled through the unfurnished room.
He stood in the west doorway, a platter in his hands and a wolfhound at his side.
This one, Nes had learned, was named Lellin, after the goddess of death, and she seemed to stay inside most of the time in her dotage.
He had two others she’d met, an Enoth and a Vites. Big boys. Jumpy.
What a theme. Perhaps he has an Appia, a Demir, maybe an Ahninia, multiple Fates?
“Uncle Kas!” Hurling themselves across the room, the twins hopped, trying to glimpse what he carried on his chest-level tray.
“Are you being good pupils for Miss Kiappa?” His question was directed at the prince and princess, but Lord Kahoth eyed Nes as he spoke, clearly checking to ensure the kids hadn’t sapped the life from her, being cooped up inside and all.
“We are, we are!” Della assured him.
“Want to see what we can do?” Ataht asked, already tugging his uncle’s arm.
The duke eyed Nesrina warily.
“Let’s make it a brief demonstration,” she chimed in, hoping to manage the twins’ expectations. Their uncle had better places to be.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he began, capturing the children’s attention as he lowered the platter for them.
“Cookies!”
“You show me what you can do, and I’ll share my snack with you.”
Nesrina highly doubted he planned to eat a dozen treats himself, but still, she was surprised by his kind gesture. Did he hear them lamenting his absence? They certainly did it a lot.
Della and Ataht demonstrated their pens, and he humored them by asking questions about their magic. Ataht’s gigantic quill was the brightest unnatural green Nes had ever seen. Della crafted a glowing purple pen of spiraled glass.
Satisfied with the attention and desserts garnered from their elusive uncle, the children trotted off to enjoy their treat and give Lellin pets.
“Would you like one?” His long arm was extended, a miniature-looking cookie pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
She shrugged, thanked him, and reached up to take the treat, which he, for some reason, retracted. The way he kept eyeing her made her wonder if she had something on her face. Ink, perhaps? She tried to snatch the cookie from his hand again.
“Hmm.” He feigned thinking—dramatically. “On second thought, maybe I should eat this . . .”
She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled free. As she was about to pull her hand back, he passed it to her, long fingers brushing warmly against hers.
“Lord Kahoth,” she began. It was as good a moment as any.
She kept her voice low, so the twins wouldn’t hear what she was about to ask.
He cocked his head in a move that reminded her of their second battle at the dinner with the royal family.
“I know you’re a busy man, But—” She stood on her tiptoes and beckoned him closer as she whispered, “If you were able to, say, take breakfast with the children, I think it would mean quite a lot to them.”
He lifted a brow and stepped back.
“Oh! I didn’t mean—that’s not me telling you to eat. It was a genuine suggestion.” Nes pointed at his cookies with her own and smirked. “I can see you don’t need reminding this afternoon. Quite the model pupil, my lord.”
His lips twitched. Then, he was gone, hound on his heels. Back to work.
The skies opened up after dinner, which Nesrina shared with Rihan . . . and Mila, the other tutors, and a few other members of the duke’s staff. She’d left the kitchens alone that evening, since Rihan was graciously covering an overnight shift for an ill member of the duke’s guard.
When Nes expressed concern over his being alone in the woods during a rainstorm, patrolling the estate’s perimeter, Rihan chuckled and reminded her he was an earthshaper: The trees parted at his whim and would protect him from the weather, so he’d be the most frightening creature in the woods, not the greenery.
Bored and left to her own devices, Nesrina took a walk indoors, glaring out the windows at the incessant rain.
Can’t the duke do something about that? With a sigh, she tamped down her worries for Rihan and continued into the north gallery. This was the perfect evening for a dark, mysterious novel—not that she ever needed an excuse to dive into a good book.
To combat the premature darkness, someone had lit stray candles around the library. With rain battering the windows and ever-changing shadows flickering over the shelves and floor, Nes began to reconsider which genre she was truly in the mood for.
Lightning flashed and thunder clapped, rattling the enormous windows. She yelped, and made the decision that a dark mystery was off the table. Instead, she drifted to the history books, a comfortable standard, and slid her finger along the spines, perusing the section.
One book in particular, an ancient leather-bound tome, caught her attention. Reaching for it, she even hopped but couldn’t make contact with the spine. So, Nes sought out the step stool that seemed to be in a different spot each time she visited and hoisted it over to where she needed it now.
The Foundations of Karovian Clan Structure.
Perfect.
Cuddled into the plush chaise lounge in the little alcove she’d designated her favorite corner, Nes settled the book atop her knees.
Light from the wall sconce danced across its wrinkled cover, enhancing the engraved lettering and highlighting its age.
She cracked it open as a clap of thunder boomed, startling her into jostling the ancient book, releasing a cloud of three-hundred-year-old dust.
Particles of prehistoric candle soot and the skin of people long dead pushed straight into her eyes, nose, and mouth.
The image alone—about the dead people’s skin—was enough to make her gag.
But before she could even process her own train of thought, her eyes began to water, and a coughing fit took hold.