Chapter 13
thirteen
Nesrina changes her tune, kind of.
Nesrina sat at the dressing table in her private washroom, tugging at her unwieldy locks after trying several hairstyles, none of which seemed to want to stay put.
“Miss Kiappa.” Aylin stood in the closet doorway with one of Nesrina’s new gowns in hand—the blue and copper one.
“Oh, thank the gods you’re here. I didn’t even hear you come in.” She dropped her tangle of wayward waves. “Do you have time to help me manage this?”
“Of course, my dear, I have nothing but time for you.” With a smile that bunched her rosy cheeks, Aylin hung the gown behind the door and joined her before the mirror.
She was a miracle worker, and Nes’s hair came out styled in an intricate updo, accented with a bronze ribbon wrapped thrice around her head. She’d never seen her curls so frizzless. “How?” she whispered, blinking stupidly at her own appearance.
“Years of practice, my dear.” Aylin smiled. “I was Lady—sorry, Queen Hevva’s lady’s maid for many years.”
Nes returned the smile, but her heart pinched.
This was what Papa’d been talking about.
She was getting swept up in the glitz, the glamor of an aristocratic lifestyle.
He said it was one of the most idiotic things he’d ever done and warned her away from it.
Still, Nes was excessively grateful for Aylin’s assistance, even though she had no idea why a former lady’s maid was working as a chambermaid in the duke’s home. A question for later, she supposed.
“I think I prefer casual dinners with the tutors over formal affairs with tempestuous dukes,” Nes grumbled as Aylin helped her into the lovely, but too-exquisite-to-relax-in ensemble.
She would wear one of her old dresses on principle, but she knew the children were dressing up and didn’t want to stand out.
The maid’s mouth curved up as she buttoned up the back and tugged the ribbon into a tight bow. “I won’t even begin to respond to that,” she quipped, and Nesrina laughed.
When she walked into the formal dining room, she nearly did a double-take at the sight of the Duke of Stormhill.
He was dressed in the same green jacket he’d worn when she first saw him at the palace.
That didn’t surprise her. What did was that he’d finally cut his wild hair.
Gone was the untamed riot that once fluffed off his noggin; in its place, his perfect coif was short on the sides and long on top, allowing his waves to whorl elegantly over his forehead, clear of his pale eyes.
He sat midway down the table looking, for all intents and purposes, like he should be her husband.
That intrusive thought nearly had her spinning on her heel and marching out of the room.
“Tilal. You look lovely this evening.” His voice washed through the chamber, flooding her face with heat.
For some bloody reason she dropped into a curtsy before bouncing back to her full height. Get to the symposium, she reminded herself, as if she had to lie when she said, “You clean up nicely yourself.”
The children joined them, saving her from any further awkwardness. She was only there at his behest to ensure they didn’t summon another dragon or globular flying knives. That was it.
The food was delicious and warm, but conversation was tepid at best. Lord Kahoth directed several questions at the kids, mostly boring them by asking about the ins and outs of their magic.
He knew they didn’t use their well of power to create, but asked if they had one, to which the twins said no.
Nesrina promptly corrected that misnomer, reminding them they did have a well, but it wasn’t needed in their regular magic use.
“Interesting,” Lord Kahoth muttered, fighting peas onto his fork.
She wasn’t sure how much he meant that, so she stopped talking.
Conversation shifted as the duke asked the kids about their favorite foods, favorite colors, hobbies, and more.
Surely he knows his niece and nephew better than this?
Nes wondered more than once as he asked question after question of their small group, always giving her a chance to respond too, as if she weren’t merely a chaperone.
It was interesting to learn, however, that Lord Kahoth’s favorite food was bacon.
His favorite color used to be blue but had recently become green.
And, his favorite hobby was reading, which she found unsurprising, given the number of books she found interesting that later went missing from his library.
Her favorites were bread and honey, blue, and reading, too, respectively.
She must have imagined the extent of his kinship with the twins. The duke had been rather distracted until that afternoon. These dinners, she rationalized, must be his attempt to get to know them.
It was a nice gesture, but she could see plain as day what he was doing. Luckily, the children seemed none-the-wiser. He asked for their birthday—her own was in the early fall, she replied when prodded. And yes, she was nearly twenty-two.
It was plain to Nes that the man had somehow earned the idolization of the prince and princess in spite of his aloof attitude and distant nature.
Ah, well. No matter the reasoning behind it, she was happy to see the twins so happy. That’s certainly what had her flushed and giddy by the end of supper.
As she retreated to her room, gown amazingly unmarred by oil from the asparagus tips, or red from the raspberry tarts, her mind wandered back to the symposium and that envelope of green and gold. Nesrina desperately wanted to bring up the event to the duke, but how?
What if he’s not going? She froze on the stairs, unsure how the symposium worked behind the scenes. It was funded by the crown. It was entirely possible Akkas received tickets because he was a member of the peerage, had no intention of going, and her own commitment to play nice was all in vain.
She’d had a lovely meal, though.
By the third dinner, conversation flowed freely.
Over a dessert of macaroons and sugar biscuits, the topic of their animal counterparts was raised and debated at length.
Nesrina found herself distracted by the lack of shadows on the lanky lord’s previously hollow cheeks.
It appeared as though her constant pestering to take meals was working.
He was looking less gaunt—angular, yes, but that was different.
At least Queen Hevva will know her gold wasn’t spent in vain.
The duke laughed when Ataht and Della agreed he must be a snake, faint lines fanning from the corners of his happy eyes.
“Why a snake?” he asked.
“For your sometimes friendly, sometimes snappy demeanor. And your length, obviously,” Nes chimed in, waving her hand vertically to indicate his height.
“Length?” he smirked, lifting a brow.
“Snakes aren’t tall, they’re long. Consider it a compromise.”
He snorted.
“I think you’re an owl,” Ataht announced.
“Who?” Della asked.
“Miss Kiappa.”
The duke laughed, and she side-eyed him.
“Not an owl?” she checked. Apparently Akkas Kahoth disagreed.
“I’d say you’re more of a puppy.”
“What? Yappy and always underfoot?” she shot back, trying to preempt his sure-to-be-vexatious reasoning.
His lips pursed as he held back a smile, silvery eyes twinkling. “I was thinking more along the lines of precious and endlessly distracting.”
“Oh.” Precious? That was disarming.
“What animal am I, Uncle Kas?”
The conversation moved on, and Nes was struck by the fact he was so much . . . nicer than she first thought.