Chapter 35 Nesrina makes a target.
thirty-five
Nesrina makes a target.
Four days later Nesrina was semi-successfully avoiding being alone with Kas—aside from their secret dinner and, before that, the .
. . incident . . . in the library. She’d taken to referring to the situation by various names but never dared to call it what it was.
Nes wouldn’t even so much as think the p-word.
In addition to avoiding Kas’s presence, she found she’d also become quite the kitchen cat, constantly chasing away thoughts of him as they scurried through her mind.
She’d spent time attempting to determine the meaning of m’ekina, which he’d said to her not once, but twice at their dinner days before.
But the word, or any variation of it, wasn’t in the Old Tongue book he’d given her.
She’d checked several times. All in all, she appeared to be doing fine.
But, in actuality, her thoughts and emotions had become a tangled mess that bled a consistent stream of anxiety into her system.
It was making her snappy and, she assumed, rather unpleasant to be around.
Even the twins began giving her space outside of their lessons and mealtime.
Mealtime, just the one, supper to be precise.
Kas had stopped putting up a fight over her skipping breakfast. But he’d drawn the line at missing dinner.
So, she’d continued to attend. Nesrina didn’t know what to do, had not a clue.
No idea. No amount of research, no number of books or academic journals, no matter how advanced, could help her out of this one: She loved him.
She wasn’t sure when that snuck up on her; months earlier, most likely. Though, Nes suspected she wouldn’t have been able to accept the emotion and name it before the present, regardless.
Her first significant clue was when he’d listed off all the meddling he’d done, and she found she didn’t mind much at all. His behavior was unconscionable, to be sure. She’d never let him live it down, but she found it rather . . . sweet. Very Kas.
Regardless of how irrational her feelings were, she had them. She loved him, and that was that. In accepting her emotions toward Kas, Nesrina had also come to realize something crucial: She was allowing herself to be haunted by a ghost.
Hothan Tarisden was a wonderful father, a talented tutor, and an accomplished academic. But he was still just a man. Nes loved Papa. She respected the fates out of him. But he had his own life, his own experiences, his own reasons for feeling the way he did about the aristocracy, and she had hers.
And that’s all right.
If he were still around and she was able to sit and speak with him openly about Lord Kahoth, her papa would likely have pressed his lips together in a disapproving manner.
But she also knew the moment he met adult Kas and saw the man he’d become, Papa’s negative notions would have melted away.
He would have approved of Kas, if not the match itself, and he’d have gotten over that part eventually, once he saw how happy the duke made her.
She loved him.
That fact was there, at the root of it all once Nesrina had gone over each and every one of the accusations Kas had thrown her way.
They held water, when it came down to it.
He’d laid her strongest argument, the duke vs.
tutor thing, to rest over their secret dinner a few nights earlier.
Further, Nes had been a bit too harsh when it came to accusing him of coercion and manipulation.
She’d made him feel as though he’d been treating her horribly, which wasn’t true.
He’d run amok when it came to his envy of Tavid Nithim and Rihan, but he seemed contrite. The whole thing with the clothing and the symposium was absurd, to be sure, but not unforgivable. And Kas was absurd, so his odd behavior lined up.
Nes did have hangups when it came to her beliefs about commoners and aristocrats.
Namely, she wasn’t sure exactly what she thought.
But she’d sort it out in time; she always did.
When it came down to it, maybe she didn’t have quite as much of an issue with the two classes commingling as she so loudly and so often proclaimed. She’d certainly embraced the lifestyle.
Nesrina conceded that might be the case as she looked around her spacious and perfectly appointed bedroom.
There was her day dress, too; the gifted white eyelet lace that was perfect for hot summer days.
She’d attended the symposium as his guest, stayed at the Elk & Heron, worn the golden gown.
If he’d been upfront, she’d likely have decided it was all charity, or quid pro quo.
Now, she saw it differently: He was an awkward man with a good heart. She couldn’t fault him for that. As it was, she’d accepted his gifts, she’d attended events, and she’d enjoyed herself doing it.
Yes, there were issues to consider regarding the wealth gap in Selwas and land ownership and such. But for the most part, it seemed the bulk of aristocrats simply . . . did the jobs their parents had done. They carried on legacies—like her.
She sighed. Point taken.
Why did she always assume he wanted to own her like some pretty bauble?
Was it her projecting her father’s feelings onto her relationship?
Was Kas truly offering her the same comforts he considered a part of everyday life?
It lined up with his other claims. He’d just gone and done it all in a needlessly secretive manner.
He’s never said he loves me. She chewed her lip.
As Nesrina reminded herself she’d never said she loved him, a series of quiet raps sounded on her bedroom door.
Ecstatic for the distraction, she bounced up from the bed and met Aylin as she entered the room.
The maid came bearing a smile and carrying a delivery, a thick letter wrapped in brown paper. She also brought news from Kirce. Pinging around the sitting area, Aylin set out lunch and neatened aimlessly as she gave an update.
The king, Nes learned, was recovering rapidly. He’d been awake and alert for several days by the time his letter arrived at Stormhill, and he’d likely be walking again before the new moon.
She warmed at the news, and a small thread of her ever-present ball of nerves loosened, slithering free.
“Did you hear about the guard’s heroics?”
Nes shook her head.
“Oh! That young man, the flaxen-haired soldier—”
“Rihan?”
“That’s the one! I heard he saved King Ehmet after the accident. A stray spear, they say . . . Anyway! He was there in an instant. Removed the weapon, stanched the bleeding. It was bad. I heard the king almost died,” she finished in a whisper.
“Wow, I’m relieved he’s all right.” The situation was astonishing. She would have been more shocked if Kas hadn’t shared his suspicions with her before the queen arrived. However, Nes couldn’t say she really cared about Rihan’s involvement. A hero? Psh, that esheb.
Once the doting maid departed, Nes made her way to her lunch, flipping her package over as she walked. She recognized her mother’s handwriting immediately and smiled, anticipating the letter within.
Settled in the sitting area and munching on an array of tiny sandwiches, she read.
The correspondence began with a note about how much Mama thought Nes would enjoy the enclosed article from the newest print of the Mystical Sciences Review.
Mama had managed to snag an advanced copy from an old friend of Papa’s who lived in Midlake.
How is everyone getting on these lists?
She flipped forward a few pages, and after her mother’s lengthy letter, Nes found a brand-new article by Talik Thanin painstakingly hand-transcribed across a great many pages. She grinned.
If the duke wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let her borrow his copy of the journal, at least she had Thanin’s portion to enjoy .
. . later. For now, her mother’s correspondence and a short nap were the two items on her schedule.
She hadn’t slept well the night before, or the night before that, and so on.
Truthfully, she hadn’t slept much at all since the incident-that-shall-not-be-named in the library.
Sometime later, Nes awoke with a start, peeled a page of her mother’s letter from her face, and glanced at the clock.
Hopping up, she gathered the pages from Mama and slid Thanin’s article into her bedside table for later, then she hurried off to work with the children.
The day was stunning, perfect for a trip to the glade.
Kas joined Nes that afternoon as he did nearly every day, aside from the one where she’d managed to evade him by teaching in a bathing chamber off a guest bedroom on the bottom floor.
She’d just arrived at the clearing to set up when he appeared, sauntering out from the path like he owned the place. Which, to be fair, he did.
“Miss Tarisden Kiappa.”
Setting her book down on a stump, she turned to face the man she’d recently realized she loved. “Lord Tilevir Kahoth.”
He chuckled and stopped a few paces away.
Ignoring him as best as possible, Nes got to work pulling in chaos from the stream, building up power in her hands.
I love you, I love you, I love you. The words floated through her mind on repeat, like lazy summer clouds.
Though the emotion didn’t make her nervous, the concept of confessing to him was heart-stoppingly terrifying.
“What are you teaching today?”
Oh, thank the gods. She’d needed a distraction.
Nes worked as she chatted. “Yesterday we practiced weaving functional bows and arrows. They were excelling at it by the end of the lesson.” She molded the first of three targets she needed for their lesson.
The burlap-covered-hay-stuffed-looking target hovered a few feet off the ground.
Kas crouched down, looking for its base.