Chapter 43 #2
“Ah, that’s a conversation for later, when I meet your Lord Kahoth.” She turned her attention to Ehmet, pointing at him. “You, come here.” With a crooked finger, she beckoned him over. Then she gestured between him and Nes.
Nesrina squinted at her mother. No. There’s no way . . .
“No,” Ehmet murmured, disbelief evident in his voice.
Mama’s round, freckled cheeks grew rosy as her smile spread. “Ah, good. You already know then.”
“Assuming we’re speaking of—”
“Hothan and your mother, yes.” Untroubled, she cut Ehmet off.
“I’ve been dying to speak to you both about it for years now, but my dear departed husband swore me to secrecy, said I had to take it to the grave.
” She rolled her eyes. “I figured it had come out after your fuss over the Crown. In hindsight, it was quite obvious why your brother came by asking questions.”
“Oh!” Nes had missed that clue.
“I thought it was odd, especially when he didn’t visit the Rashoolis. I sorted it out eventually.”
Nes laughed, pulling her mama against her side as they stood in the shade offered by Ehmet.
She couldn’t believe she didn’t have to explain the difficult details.
She couldn’t believe how much Mama hadn’t shared.
That rankled, but Nes understood; life got in the way, and Mama had good reasons to keep things to herself.
Kas had the same issue. She tried not to take it personally, from either of them.
There wasn’t a quick fix with her mother, but with Kas, they’d started having nightly chats to make sure secrets didn’t take root.
“You look so much like him,” her mama gushed, lifting her hand up to Ehmet’s cheek.
“I do?”
“Oh, yes. Those eyes, like Nes’s, too. When your mama told Hothan, he was furious that he’d wasted all those years not knowing.
He wanted to speak with you about it. He loved you, but she swore him to secrecy, said if he ever breathed a word, she’d have him killed.
I know she only said it to protect the kingdom, because you’re a good leader, Ehmet.
But if she hadn’t passed before him, I’d be blaming her for that mugging that took him from us. ”
Nes balked. “Mama!”
“It’s true.”
Ehmet chuckled morosely. “It wasn’t my mum posthumously. I wish Hothan wasn’t gone, so we could get to know one another again and . . .”
“Bond?” Mama suggested.
The king nodded his big head.
“Ah, well. That’s the way life is, unfortunately. But you did bond with him, both of you, in the same way. Have you worked your magic together yet?”
Nes flicked her gaze to Ehmet. “No.”
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the empty lawn. “There has to be something we can both imagine at the same time.”
“Did we have the same final examination?”
“A miniature harpsichord?” he checked.
She nodded, beaming.
Ehmet held out a palm as a stage, and upon it, they wove a glossy instrument with no legs and a missing lid. It played a twinkly, discordant tune.
“Needs work,” Mama commented.
“It’s quite good, honestly,” Nesrina said to Ehmet. It wasn’t easy, weaving with a partner. She was even more impressed by the twins’ accidental dragon.
“For a first try, I agree, quite good.”
They decided to try again later, and let their creation fizzle away.
“Aren’t you supposed to get married, love? Come on kids, let’s go.” Grabbing Nes by the hand, her mama turned and walked her into Stormhill, as if she were the guest, not about to become the bloody duchess in an hour’s time.
Chortling, Ehmet followed behind.
Under the bright midday sun, protected by a canopy of leaves woven by Hevva, Nesrina walked down the aisle with Ehmet by her side.
On her left, Thera and Aylin clutched each other’s hands, beaming at Nes, and crying.
The twins stood with her mother, up near the front.
Hevva was acting as the officiant, and Kas waited for Nesrina at the entrance to the temple—which she’d agreed to call that, on the condition he keep worshiping her there.
Kas grinned, his tiny mouth pulled wide, and his hair in wild disarray from his nervous hands that currently clutched his jacket to stay still. She smiled back, unable to stop tears from fogging her vision, adding a mystical quality to the afternoon.
“Congratulations, little sis,” Ehmet whispered, passing Nes off to Kas at the altar, and going to join his children.
The tradition was an old one, still practiced by many, in which the father of the bride handed her off to her new spouse.
Selwassans no longer believed women were possessions of men, but most kept up with the wedding practice. It was sweet, when it came down to it.
Since Hothan couldn’t be there, for obvious reasons, Ehmet had offered to escort her, and Nes agreed.
To anyone observing, except those in the know, it appeared as though the king was taking his duty to his people seriously by standing in for the deceased relative of a Selwassan subject.
Hevva, Ehmet, Kas, Nesrina, and her happy-faced but weepy-eyed mama were the ones with all the facts.
Well, Nekash, too, but he was imprisoned beneath the stone floors of Kirce.
Ehmet and Hevva wanted to wait a few years to inform the twins that Nesrina was their aunt in more ways than one. Everyone was happy with the current arrangement which brought her into their family, and allowed the twins to call her aunt, regardless of which branch she swung in on.
“Eth ye de mi, m’ekina,” Kas whispered, taking her hands and drawing her attention from the gathered crowd to him.
“Mi tilal, I love you,” she replied, standing on tiptoes as he bent to kiss her.
“You’re not supposed to do that yet!” Della yelled.
“Are you ready to begin?” Hevva laughed.
“Yes,” they replied together.
Their intimate handfasting was followed by a much larger celebration in the village of Stormhill.
Kas drove their curricle through town one-handed, while she waved at the villagers for both of them, and their hands, bound in green ribbon, lay entwined atop her thigh.
It was clear Kas was well-loved by his people—their people—and they were more than happy to open their hearts to her, too.
They climbed down to wander the streets, bound together, physically, for the duration of the night, and bound together, emotionally, forever.
“This is horribly awkward,” Nes complained, her elbow swinging in the space between them each time he lifted his hand.
“It’ll be much easier when we’re lying down,” he replied with a chuckle, handing her a beer, a gift from a villager.
Kas found an upturned barrel and set her atop it to give her arm a break while she enjoyed her drink.
In that quiet moment away from the crowd, she heard a few words from a passing conversation: A charming older woman claimed the new Lady of Stormhill finally managed to make the duke smile and put some meat on those bones.
Nes grinned, and Kas leaned in for another kiss, which she happily obliged.
In the early evening, as Kas led her in a dance on a cobbled street surrounded by their people, she knew with absolute certainty she’d made the right choice in answering that summons from the king.