Chapter 12 #2
She wasn’t supposed to be interesting, but she was swiftly knocking sustainable mining practices out of first place. And her magic? The king’s magic, the twins’ . . . it was infinitely interesting, and he knew the moment he gave in and started learning about it in earnest, he’d be hooked.
The same went for studying her.
What he needed to do was finish his personal projects, then he could focus on earning Miss Kiappa’s goodwill.
But anxiety over whether she hated him or was temporarily disgruntled kept his focus split.
He didn’t need to be learning about naughtbirins .
. . or tutors. He needed to be getting his work done.
Perhaps, if he could answer one question, maybe a few, he could find his focus.
With his mount handed off to the grooms, Kas beelined to the trees, Vites and Enoth bounding out from somewhere to join him.
The day was pleasant, and Nesrina would have the twins out by the stream, he was certain of it.
Waltzing down the path to the clearing, Kas slowed his steps to half-skulk behind trees when he caught sight of Nesrina, speaking animatedly to the children. She was so lovely, tilal. Tilal’kalalitani, his lovely distraction, in her new coral gown, perched atop a stump with the stream at her back.
His dogs ran ahead, joining the group and earning a cheer from the children. When Nes looked up, glaring daggers down the shaded path—at him—he lifted his hand in a small wave, and stayed put.
He hoped she loved her new dresses; he truly had intended to tell her they were from him, but things snowballed, and he lost his chance.
He should have confessed when they met in the dining room, after he’d sent Rihan away, but before she knew the guard was gone.
That was the ideal time, and he’d missed his opportunity, spouting nonsense about the wardrobe being a gift from his sister, too.
He should’ve fessed up, told her he’d dismissed Rihan, and why, then admitted his affection for her.
Perhaps not all in the same conversation.
He still could, still should, but he needed the right time to crop up.
Life was full of bad timing and difficult situations.
Kas typically prided himself on putting his head down, gathering information, and getting through to the other side more educated and capable than before.
Like when he had to learn to balance the earldom with earning his credits at the Institute, and after that, balancing it with a brief stint in the Selwassan army, because it was what the nobility did—a service to the kingdom.
His father had been around though, for support. It was different than now, he supposed.
But even when his parents passed and he came into the dukedom too, Hevva had been there to prop him up.
She still was, but she had a whole country to run.
He hated to burden her. That’s what he needed though: someone to bounce ideas off of.
The problem was, he wanted to bounce ideas about Nesrina—and her magic—off the woman herself. That felt . . . scary.
Kas realized with a start that Miss Kiappa’s lesson was drawing to a close.
He hadn’t approached and had stayed awkwardly in the trees.
Worse still, he hadn’t learned anything new about naughtbirins.
How long had he been sitting out there, thinking about her?
With a stifled huff, he whistled for his dogs and began to pick his way back to the house.
“Uncle Kas!” Ataht shrieked.
Kas turned back, eyes wide as six sets of feet charged him.
His hounds he could handle, the twins were less predictable, so he sent out two thick ropes of air, snatching the children from behind and pulling them to a stop by their waists.
Della squealed and Ataht yelled, laughter spilling from them all.
Miss Kiappa watched with a grin on her face, and Kas knew, at that moment, her ire was temporary.
The duke proceeded to his office where necessity drove him to focus, and a lighter heart buoyed him through the final choppy waves of his project. As soon as he was done with this commitment, he could turn his attention to a new topic or two: naughtbirins and tutors.
Just two hours later, Kas added his final comma and shoved the many pages into a packet before hopping up and ringing for his housekeeper. Thera, who could always be trusted, took the package off his hands.
“Another, my lord?”
He winked, and she laughed. They’d been at this for years.
His private projects and his public-facing work occasionally aligned, occasionally did not, so he went to great pains to keep those two sides of his life separate.
Perhaps that was why he’d developed such a struggle with telling the damned truth.
After handing over a stack of mail, pre-prioritized for his perusal, Thera bade him farewell and slipped away, closing the door softly behind herself.
Taking a moment, Kas stretched and gazed out at the waning afternoon.
He pushed open both windows and welcomed fresh air into his stuffy office, encouraging the breeze to dance up his sleeves and around the back of his neck.
It was a bit too balmy, so he chilled it to a refreshingly icy temperature.
Eventually, he sat to review his correspondence, feeling lighter than he had for the past two months, despite having unknowingly gained a good six pounds in as many weeks.
The top letter was from his sister. She mentioned Nekash was being more lecherous than usual, still lamenting the absence of the twins’ tutor, weeks after her departure.
The prince admitted to Hevva and Ehmet that Miss Kiappa rebuffed his advances, and claimed, with time, he’d have won her over.
That disgusting, repugnant man. He was nearly twice her age!
Kas truly despised the younger Hethtar brother.
He was the type of man who gave the upper echelons of society a bad name.
No advances had been made on the other issue they’d discussed. While Hevva’s words were short on the matter, Kas knew she was referring to the rumblings of a potential uprising against the king.
His sister went on to ask about the children, urging him to hug them on behalf of her and Ehmet. Then she asked after the tutor—because of course she did. Hevva wondered how Nesrina was faring, both with her “Half-feral but incredibly adorable spawn” and in the absence of one particular guard.
Oh, swimmingly, sister. Kas growled.
“Tell me brother, with your wolfish demeanor, have you scared her off yet?” He wished he could take back that growl, even though she wasn’t there to laugh and say she told him so.
Hevva went on to say she hoped his work was going well, but he needed to take a break and enjoy the summer before the winds changed, bringing fall to Selwas.
“And brother,” she implored him, “don’t get so stressed that you start sleepwalking again like you did when we were children. Remember when I found you moonbathing nude in the garden?”
Kas laughed at the memory. But alas, his sister’s words were moments too late as the project she referenced was done.
Now he could relax, or rather, be on guard for Nesrina’s next attack.
A snort escaped him at the memory of her Appia Day remark.
She was so . . . silly. Smart and silly, a wonderful combination. He used to be that way, but—work.
Hevva went on, asking Kas to give the twins a break from their studies, a few days off to enjoy the weather.
She reminded him it was the time of year to cycle the children’s staff out on holiday and apologized for needing him to step in more than usual in her absence.
She hoped he understood, and urged him to remember she’d forever be his grateful big sister.
“Perhaps while you travel down to Rohilavol?”
So they can wreak havoc on Stormhill while I’m away? No. Best if he took a holiday with them. Maybe they’d like to visit a few quadrants of the estate, try a few unnamed village inns on for size? He’d figure it out.
“P.S.” she ended the letter, “Don’t forget to eat.”
He groaned, flailed, and knocked his mail onto the floor.
With a grumble, Kas sent a channel of air to scoop up one of the letters.
It fluttered into his open palm. He went through all of his scattered correspondence in this manner.
There were a few bits and pieces pertaining to the town at Stormhill, and mining updates from Kabuvirib.
A note from his friend, Isahn, Earl of Midlake, offered feedback on the new ideas Kas sent over a few weeks earlier, and he’d added an addendum confirming their lunch in Rohilavol in three weeks’ time.
Isahn understood the true breadth of Kas’s projects.
He snatched the last packet off the floor and was greeted by unmistakable green writing on an envelope of gold. Sighing through a smile, he broke open the emerald seal and extracted the program for this year’s Symposium of Prodigious Minds. Only three weeks to go. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.
His mind fluttered away on golden silk as he re-envisioned Miss Kiappa twirling around the dance floor at the symposium, in his own arms rather than Tavid Nithim’s.
What he wouldn’t give to make that dream a reality with the very real and no longer nameless Nesrina Tarisden Kiappa. His sister had nudged him to give the twins a break and let the staff cycle through holidays.
Something that felt suspiciously like Hevva’s meddling prickled his brain, but enough excitement fluttered in Kas’s chest that he didn’t care.
He fingered the two admission passes for himself and a guest. He had time now: time to spend with his niece and nephew, to spend learning about naughtbirins, to spend .
. . wooing her, or attempting to, at least. Then, he could work.
He needed a plan, something beyond strategically hanging around the library where she seemed to spend most of her free time.
Whether that choice was because she liked it, solely to annoy him, or because he’d placed her in rooms on that side of the house—on his side of the house—he wasn’t certain.
Either way, hovering wouldn’t be enough.
Oh, he fully intended to hover far more frequently now, but he needed concrete time to sit and chat, to get to know one another.
Dinner. The idea rang like a bell. With the twins. It was the perfect plan. She couldn’t deny such a friendly invitation, especially not whilst staying in his home. Why not make it a standing event . . .
Kas picked up a paperweight from his desk, a river-worn rock he’d collected on a walk years before.
Many, many birds with a single stone. This was the perfect solution.
He’d get to spend more quality time with the children, get Miss Kiappa to stop pestering him to eat during their every interaction, and most importantly, he’d be able to spend time with her in a setting where she couldn’t spin and dash away on a whim.
The next day, Kas took lunch in his chambers, feeling like a lad on summer holiday.
His only tasks were chewing his chicken and feeding the occasional bite to Lellin, curled up on his feet.
He watched out the open patio doors, a wistful smile blooming on his face as Nesrina walked the property with his other two wolfhounds in tow.
How he longed to join her. One of these days he would. Soon.
He had some tasks to see to, so he spent two hours, between lunch and lesson time, ensconced in his study.
When he emerged, his day’s work was complete.
He was free. Not bothering to don his jacket and cravat, Kas made his way out to the glade where he’d seen the trio disappear a few moments before.
They sat around a campfire, fanning themselves to stave off the unnecessary heat while Nesrina waved her arms around as she spoke.
“Greetings,” he called loudly, waltzing right into the glade. “Why do you have a fire?”
He earned himself a narrow-eyed look from Miss Kiappa when the twins rushed over, abandoning their disgruntled instructor.
Oops. Off to a great start already. He scolded himself for not waiting for a natural pause in their lesson. “I’ll only stay for a moment,” he offered apologetically to the woman perched atop a stump.
She nodded, terser than he would have preferred.
“I was hoping to speak with you all,” he explained, dragging one child on each foot back to the circle of stumps and producing a cool breeze to chase away the heat of the fire.
Miss Kiappa stopped fanning herself with her hands and spread her arms wide, welcoming his magic with a soft smile.
He nearly forgot what he’d come to say. “Dinner,” he blurted, earning a look from the tutor. “I’d like to invite you to join me in the formal dining chamber for dinner tonight, tomorrow, and so on.”
The twins shrieked with excitement, Della clapped with joy and Ataht bounced right off his stump.
Still seated, Nesrina seemed unconvinced, pointing at her chest. “Why . . .?” she asked, but he got the feeling she meant, “Me?”
Why was he requesting her presence? Because I must see more of you, he thought. Instead, he said, “Their magic,” and forced out a chuckle that sounded much calmer than he felt as he gestured to his niece and nephew, who didn’t seem one bit concerned that Kas was using them as an excuse.
“I’d like to spend more time with them and have no interest in dealing with any wayward magic alone during dinner. I don’t understand it enough. For example, why do you have a campfire out here in the summer heat? Is that connected to your magic? Is it for ambiance?”
Her lips quivered. “It’s for the lesson, yes. And their control has vastly improved these past few weeks, Lord Kahoth. I’m not sure my presence is necessary?”
He wasn’t about to let her wriggle out of this one. “An abundance of caution.” He waved off her lack of concern. “I insist.”
She blinked at him before nodding. “Splendid.” A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, and he knew what she was going to say before the words were out: “I can ensure you eat.”
He couldn’t help the grin that split his face in response. With that settled, Kas stood from his stump and said goodbye to the group. He had to get back to the house where he’d enlisted one doting housekeeper to give him a much-needed haircut.