Chapter 31 Kas gets caught. #2
He jabbed her with a burst of magic sending Hevva into peals of laughter.
“We need to tell her.” Kas retained his seriousness.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Kas. It’s unwise. Why are you so adamant? You understand the sensitivity of this issue, right?” Her tone kicked up an octave, a sure sign she was growing annoyed with his petulance.
Kas drummed his fingers atop the wood before reclaiming his whiskey and drowning himself in the rest of the glass. “You can’t think she knows or is a traitor, can you?”
“Gods, no, you fool. We fear someone is trying to prove Ehmet’s illegitimacy, obviously. What if they came for her next to try to get a confession out of her? Would it not be best if she knows nothing, should that worst case scenario come to pass?”
Kas sighed and attempted to drink from his empty tumbler. “Yes. Fine. I won’t say a word.”
“Don’t look so morose, brother.”
He glared at Hevva. “I don’t like lying to the woman I—” He cut himself off.
“The woman you, what? Do you love her?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
Hevva’s face split into a grin so bright that Kas couldn’t help but reflect back one of his own. “How fantastic! I needed positive news this week. Tell me everything.” She lifted the decanter and topped up both of their glasses.
That evening, Kas sat in the dining room with Hevva, catching up on the lighter aspects of the past few weeks, and enjoying crisp glasses of water, as they’d done quite a lot of drinking earlier in the day.
The siblings determined it was best to keep the grittier details of the situation in Serkath from the children and Nesrina.
Everyone was aware that the king had been injured, of course.
And Nes knew more than the prince and princess, but her knowledge was going to have to stop where it stood, for the time being.
Keeping a devastatingly big secret from her made Kas feel so horrendous he nearly poured himself a small glass of wine, before his headache decided against it.
It wasn’t long before the twins bounded in, closely followed by Nesrina, looking resplendent in green and gold.
“Oh, I love your dress,” his sister gushed. Hevva was far quicker than him at regaining her composure and moving past the somber mood.
“You’re too kind.” Nesrina smiled. “I believe I owe you a very large and belated thank you for the wardrobe, Your Majesty.”
“I didn’t . . .” Hevva frowned.
Fuck. Kas blasted his sister with a jab of air on the arm. Cover for me, cover for me.
“Oh, how silly of me, I forgot! Things have been in upheaval recently. You’re most welcome, Nesrina.”
A quick glance told him Nes didn’t buy the lie. She pulled out her chair like it had personally wronged her and sat down. Hard. The gulp of wine she drank did little to cover the grinding of her teeth, and nothing to hide the blush rising up her neck.
Shit. He meant to send Hevva a note ages ago on this very matter, but he’d forgotten.
And now Nes knew. She definitely knew, based on the way she kept tugging at the fabric of her skirts and avoiding eye contact with him.
Damn it. Leneteki. Shit. He gulped and took a healthy sip of his water.
Then he did it again, as if it would somehow contain alcohol the second time around.
Oh, this was terrible. Not only was he tasked with keeping an exceptionally sensitive secret from Nesrina, he was also in her bad graces for .
. . a fashion faux pas, of a variety. The Big Secret alone was enough to drive him to apoplexy, and she was angry on top of it? !
As if socializing properly wasn’t difficult under ideal circumstances, now he looked upon her and knew something life-changing, and he couldn’t say a godsdamned thing! Rather than scream, which would’ve been disruptive, Kas groaned into his glass while the first course was served.
He spent the duration of dinner splitting his focus between his plate, the ongoing conversation with his family, and making intermittent attempts to draw Nesrina’s attention. It was unwise, considering her anger and the Big Secret, but he’d grown fond of doing unwise things of late.
Aiming questions in Nes’s direction garnered him the most perfunctory responses.
So, Kas upped the ante by pestering her with his magic.
First, he ran a breeze up and down her legs.
Nothing. He tried swirling cool air at the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, earning a flick of her hand in irritation.
Next, he brushed warm, featherlight kisses over Nes’s adorable rosebud lips as she observed the conversation.
She lifted a finger to her mouth.
Finally.
He had her attention. She still actively avoided his gaze, but the pad of her pointer finger lingering on her plump lower lip said she was aware. Ignoring him, but aware.
The problem now was that every ounce of blood in Kas’s damned body decided to flood one specific appendage, forcing him to shift in his seat. Patience.
When their dinner plates had been replaced by smaller dishes laden with delicate tarts, Kas turned the conversation to the Domossan delegation and asked his sister for her thoughts. The twins were happy to discuss it, in excessive detail.
Although he’d vowed to stop pestering Nes with air, that didn’t mean Kas had stopped stealing glances in her direction.
In fact, he tried over and over again to get her to look at him.
About once out of every seventeen attempts, not that he was counting, she pierced him with a sharp glare.
Her coldness was starting to worry him, and a maze of anxiety formed around his thoughts, one he tried to logic his way out of:
Women like clothes. She needed them. Fripperies and frills are fun, right? Sure, the gifts weren’t actually from Hevva, but that wasn’t of great import . . .? A second, more rational voice in Kas’s mind told him to shut up and speak with her before drawing any more daft conclusions.
As dinner wound down, he caught Hevva’s gaze across the table. In desperate need of support, he widened his eyes and flicked his pupils imperceptibly, he hoped, in Nesrina’s direction.
Hevva shook her head half an inch.
Kas inclined his just as much. Widening his eyes again and shaping his lips into a pronounced pout, he begged.
She rolled hers and then nodded, minutely.
“Well,” Hevva announced as they finished the last of their dessert, “I’ll be taking the children for a walk in the gardens.” With that she abruptly wrangled her confused twins.
Kas thanked the gods for giving him such a great big sister.
The moment the door clicked behind them, Nesrina pushed her chair away from the table and hopped to her feet. He did too, rushing to stand maybe a little closer than necessary.
She huffed.
The door swung open, and a pair of maids bustled in, took one look at him, and retreated.
Nesrina, who hadn’t seen his glare, spoke to his staff, “Please, don’t let us keep you from your work.”
Us. The simple pronoun made his heart clench, and he could have sworn it skipped a beat. Us. How he liked the sound of that. Would there be an “us” with the dresses and the whole “the king is your secret brother” situation?
“I was just leaving for my room.” She glided to the door.
His muse. His love. Everything about Nes occupied his mind from dawn till dusk. Often beyond, through the long nights he spent alone in his bed, wishing she were beside him as she had been at the symposium. Even when everything was askew, she brought balance to his life. He needed to fix this.
There she goes again.
In less than five strides Kas caught up to her, matching her pace as she walked down the foyer, past the main stairs, and on toward his office. She intended to take a back staircase to her room. Or perhaps she was heading to the library.
“Miss Kiappa, may I escort you to your chamber?” Kas intentionally raised his voice enough that anyone nearby would hear his thoroughly proper gesture. It would be rather rude, after all, if she were to refuse.
“Of course you may.” She lifted her hand, resting it in his already crooked elbow.
Her action didn’t surprise him; it was exactly as he’d anticipated. Nesrina’s tone, however, proved unnerving. She sounded almost cheerful? Her sugary voice didn’t fit with the way she’d ignored him through most of dinner.
Kas escorted her down the short hall past his office.
He dropped her hand to open the door to the stairwell in the library.
Nes was about to proceed ahead of him when he dashed up the steps first, making the split-second decision to remain in front rather than allow her to take the lead and rush off again.
He could feel her staring daggers, could practically hear her cursing at him in her mind as she followed him to the top of the stairs.
He figured he deserved it, for the clothing .
. . and the secret. As Kas moved to turn left, toward her chamber, a dainty set of fingers grasped his forearm and yanked him in the opposite direction.
In truth, she applied light pressure, and he followed along, unwilling to part from Nes even if it would save him from the fire she was about to let loose.
He’d rather face a dragon.
“I was hoping we could speak in private.” Nesrina’s voice was steel as she dragged him into a workroom off the end of the hall, shoving him in ahead of her and pushing the door closed.
She nearly slammed it, but her hand darted out at the last possible moment, shutting it delicately, so it wouldn’t notify the household of their whereabouts.
He gazed down at her as she turned to face him. From his vantage point, Kas forced himself to focus on her curls rather than her tantalizing breasts, their tops visible above the neckline of her green and gold gown. Patience. A gown he’d picked out specifically for her. Kas, patience.
He should have told her the truth about the gift. He should have, but he didn’t. And now everything was convoluted. Even if he somehow managed to salvage things, Nesrina would eventually learn that he knew the Big Secret before she did. She was mad now . . . how much worse would it get?
For a moment, she stared at his chest, a statue save the muscle ticking in her jaw. Her breasts—that he wasn’t supposed to be looking at—rose and fell with her shallow breaths as she gathered herself.
She’s organizing before she speaks? This was a new sort of anger, a variety he’d yet to experience. Kas recognized the conversation wasn’t going to go well for him.
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips before she opened her mouth. She closed it again, swallowing her first set of words. A beat passed, then her lips parted again—and closed.
It took everything in Kas not to cock his head at Nes in that needling way he knew would annoy her.
But she was mad enough at him, truly angry this time, worse than when he sent the insipid guard away, and Kas didn’t want to dig himself a deeper hole than he was already in.
Despite the drastic difference in their heights, in that moment he felt like a child about to be scolded by his nanny rather than the six-and-a-half-foot-tall man he was, and the five-foot-nothing woman she was.
Kas felt even smaller when she raised her hands and planted them on his chest, urging him back a few steps.
He knew it was so she wouldn’t have to tilt her head up.
But he still heated from her touch and hated the distance between them.
Nes anchored her fists to her hips and raised her gaze to his, glaring into his soul.
You love her. That has to count for something, right? His heart raced, out of control.
Oh my gods. Not the time.
How could a few dresses have gone so wrong? Would there be any coming back from this?