Chapter 18
eighteen
Nesrina panics, a couple of times.
The ride to Rohilavol was long, although nowhere near as taxing as the journey from Kirce Palace to Stormhill.
On their three-day journey, Nesrina and the duke talked of everything, including their dreams for their futures.
Kas hoped to have a brood of his own one day: at least two children, more if possible.
The concept was one she couldn’t think on for too long, for reasons she wasn’t ready to name.
Still she deemed the conversation acceptable for friends.
Friendship, especially a temporary one, was one thing.
Attraction, another. The two absolutely did not, and could not, go hand in hand.
She’d turned their chat back to intellectual pursuits at that point, and he latched on, asking many questions about tishtafiran and the extent and uses for her creations—not only asking, but listening to her responses.
Even when her opinions differed from his—perhaps especially then—Kas probed deeper, never trying to prove her wrong or disregard her perspective.
She found she quite liked having a friend.
The symposium was technically a three-day affair.
There was a plenary address and dinner on the first evening followed by two full days of academic demonstrations, presentations, discussions, and the occasional heated argument between self-confident scholars.
Then, the annual event would close with the gala, a grand dinner and ball, for all of the attendees.
When they pulled into town just before lunchtime, the busy streets were bursting with visitors from near and far, carriages and foot traffic clogging the thoroughfare.
They rolled, rocking over cobbles as Nes studied the Institute’s buildings out her window.
Some were shimmery tan stone, some brick, some river rock, and all hugged by creeping ivy keeping bits and baubles of knowledge wrapped safely inside.
Kas popped his head out the window to direct the coach to their inn. He offered a back route that would supposedly allow them to avoid the traffic.
It didn’t help all that much. Even the alleyways on the fine side of Rohilavol were gorgeous with little flowerboxes dotting window ledges, children playing hopscotch, and parents tossing laundry up to dry with bursts of air magic.
It still took them fifteen minutes to travel a distance she could’ve made in four on foot.
He probably could’ve made it in two minutes. He had very long legs.
Finally, they rolled to a stop at their destination beside a large row of stone stables. Kas got out first, unfolding himself into the open air and stretching with a groan before turning back to offer his hand to Nesrina.
“Welcome to the Elk one she chased away by downing the rest of her whiskey in a single swig.
Her eyes watered and her throat burned as she eyed that gargantuan, spacious bed.
Without shifting her gaze, she cleared her throat and stuck out her hand, extending her empty glass toward the duke for a refill.
This is fine. This is good. Friends share beds. It’s fine.
Something like a low chuckle escaped Kas as he refilled her drink.
Claiming business, Lord Kahoth disappeared for a couple of hours, which gave Nes a much-needed break from the strange torture brought on by their shared quarters.
She ate the meal he’d sent to their room and tried not to wonder who he’d gone off to meet with.
Wandering the space, plate in hand, Nes looked out over the city and nibbled on her third slice of bread and honey, her favorite.
A green and gold flag waved from the spire atop the Institute’s massive library, welcoming thousands of Selwassans to town for the coming days.
She could not wait to get out there, to learn, to engage in dialogue, to explore their world in a supremely cerebral way.
A man with a rounded belly and a tweed coat, too heavy for the weather, wandered down the road with a little girl by his side. Pausing, he pulled out a map, consulted it, then pointed out the Institute’s admissions building to her.
Nes sighed wistfully as tears clouded her eyes.
She’d wanted to attend the Institute too, but Papa said it wasn’t in the family budget, said her experience was good enough, and she didn’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of upper-crust fools earning credits to pat themselves on the back.
There’d been more funds when she was young, but somewhere along the way, his pension from the Crown ran out, and he started tutoring regularly again.
Blinking, because she’d forgotten about that—that transition point—she spun away from the window to find the big four-poster staring her down.
Nes groaned.
She needed a bath, something to reset her mood. The tub was on par with the bed—gigantic—and Nes was overcome with a wave of guilt for how easily she was willing to consume the luxury around her.
It’s the symposium. The rules don’t matter here.
Tipping her head side to side, she considered that a moment and decided it was true enough. Glitz and glamor and being swept away were real concerns; but she was on holiday, and three days wouldn’t be the death of her.
Tugging a pull cord labeled for the tub, she expected a line of staff to arrive with buckets.
But with a rush, the enormous basin filled with steaming water from nowhere.
In the spirit of Della and Ataht, Nesrina shrieked—but not too loudly—and clapped.
The Elk & Heron must have had watercoursers awaiting calls from the guest rooms. What a luxury.
She’d never stayed at an inn with such amenities.
Clean and refreshed, with the stiffness of travel soaked from her limbs, she wrapped up in one of the complimentary robes and twisted her hair in a towel. The scent of the gardenia and orange oils she’d used surrounded her like a sweet hug.
In the bedroom, Nes stood before the tall mirror beside the door, turning this way and that as she surveyed her body in the glass. She hadn’t realized how much she’d become a woman, how much her body had changed over the past few years. She was . . . curvaceous.
She slid her palms down the sides of her robed waist, trying to imagine what Rihan felt when he’d grasped her there weeks before.
It had been quite some time since she’d had the opportunity to study herself, so Nesrina dropped her robe, pulled her towel from her hair, and stood bare for perusal.
She cupped her breasts, testing them out, then turned with her back to the mirror and looked at herself over her shoulder—she was decidedly, surprisingly well-endowed.
Facing herself again, she returned to her bosom and wondered if her nipples were a normal size.
They seemed sort of small . . . not that she’d seen all that many in her life.
The door flew open.
She yelped, wrapping her arms tightly across her chest without even thinking about her naked lower half.
The door slammed shut.
A second later, a low knock reverberated through the oak followed by a ground out, “Are you decent?”
Oh my gods. Nesrina grabbed her discarded robe and quickly wrapped herself in it, knotting her sash twice, to be safe. Safe from what? Are you planning on tearing your mantle off in front of him . . . again?
She let out a whine of frustration. Schooling her features, Nes replied, “Yes. Sorry, come in.”