Chapter 20
twenty
Nesrina is sick of grumpy men.
Rihan was there. Of all the people she’d expected to see at the symposium, he was certainly not on Nesrina’s list. He grinned at her, and she returned a small smile, focusing instead on the conversation with the king.
Between Rihan’s furtive glances and Kas’s continual staring at the side of her face, the confusing tumble of emotions within her had her wishing she could scream and run away from the entire event.
The king’s speech was a blur, though Nes did recall a sweet story he shared of having met his queen at the symposium over a dozen years before.
She wanted to ask Kas if he’d been there, but when she chanced a glance at him out of the corner of her eye he was staring daggers at Rihan, and she couldn’t capture the lord’s attention.
Then the speech ended, and Kas disappeared to meet with the king, leaving her oddly bereft without his confusing presence at her side. Standing in the hall with Rihan’s damp hand pressed against the exposed skin of her upper arm, she wished Kas would hurry back.
Had this man truly excited her a few weeks before? Oh, how fickle she was.
“You’re looking beautiful, as always,” Rihan whispered, leaning in close.
“I’m going to take a leak.” The other guard, stationed a few feet away, disappeared down the hall and around a corner.
Nesrina couldn’t help but wonder if he’d heard Rihan, or if his departure was planned in advance.
“Have you missed me?” Rihan’s low question vibrated through her, filling Nesrina with a strange sort of apprehension in place of the butterflies that he, at one time, called forth from her stomach.
She gave him another small smile and avoided the question entirely.
Rihan lifted the clammy hand that had been pressed against her arm for far too long and grazed her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. She shrank away from his touch. It felt wrong.
It wasn’t until he licked his wide lips and leaned in, sliding his hand behind her neck to tug her closer, that she let out a gasp of protest, one that he took for excitement. Rihan mashed against her unwilling mouth, and Nes yelped, shoving him away.
“What the fates?” he whispered tensely.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Who is he?”
“I’m sorry, what?” This time Nes’s “sorry” held no note of apology, as incredulity lifted her brows.
“Whose bed are you warming now, Nesrina?” he hissed her name, all venom, the charming man she’d once spent time with gone in a flash. “Got yourself a new soldier? No? Oh, ho! The duke himself?” Rihan cornered her and, hulking, backed her toward the wall.
“How dare you?” She darted to the side, spinning from beneath him and positioning herself in the center of the hallway.
It took a moment to find her words with his aggressive presence bearing down on her.
But when they came, they were laced with poison.
“First of all, don’t ever touch me without my permission.
Second, I haven’t seen you in weeks. We’ve been apart longer than we knew one another.
And you think it’s appropriate to greet me so familiarly?
To attempt to kiss me in a hall, mere feet from the king and—”
The door across from her swung open, and the duke she was about to name emerged, accompanied by King Hethtar.
“We leave now,” the king boomed at the guards.
When the second one had returned, Nesrina couldn’t be sure; she hoped his reappearance was recent.
King Hethtar said something about dinner and wine, but she wasn’t listening.
Rihan’s sharp glare pierced her uncomfortably, until he spun and followed the king away.
Her cheeks burned, and her breathing was shallow. She hadn’t been done reaming him out. Cut off mid-tirade, her surplus of energy balled in on itself.
“Let’s go,” Kas barked, plucking a cord of anxiety within her, already wound so tight it nearly snapped.
Nesrina ground her teeth as she followed the duke from the public building.
The Elk & Heron was only a few blocks from the opening dinner—the one they skipped. Walking double-time to try to keep up with the long-legged lord burned off some of her ire. It fizzled and popped, disintegrating wildly.
Rihan Sarma’s a cad. “That absolute arsehole,” Nes grumbled, expounding on her thoughts, and earning a quick over-the-shoulder glance from Kas as she pounded up the stairs of the inn.
At their room, Kas procured himself a large glass of whiskey and poured her a glass of wine. Not in the mood to chat, she curled up in a chair by the fire, sipping her drink as he stomped around, ice clinking in his glass.
Can I catch a break? Nesrina wondered morosely, taking another sip. She pursed her lips. Sticky. This was too sweet and not at all what she wanted.
He continued his pacing. Clink, clink, clink. She wondered how many grumpy men she’d be forced to deal with over the course of the symposium. Hopefully the first evening was not a sign of what was to come.
Eventually Kas thunked his glass down beside her on the low table, and she yelped.
“I’m going to have a bath,” he announced before striding away and slamming the washroom door.
Rolling her eyes, she traded out her wine for his tumbler.
Her first long, slow sip burned, and she sighed as she swirled ice in her glass.
More whiskey washed away the lingering tension she felt over Rihan’s unwanted advances.
He was gone, back to the capital with the king, and she was safe, and sound, and had Kas Kahoth to watch over her.
When the water stopped filling the tub and she heard him splash into the enormous basin, something snapped in Nesrina, sending heat roaring up her chest. The vague notion that he was nude and no more than ten feet away made her jumpy.
A coil of promised pleasure wound its way through her body and settled between her legs, forcing her to wiggle straight off the chair and move away from the washroom posthaste.
“You know I’m attracted to you, right?”
“Oh my.” Her cheeks pricked with heat.
Taking the half-full glass with her, Nesrina padded over to the armoire and selected a nightgown.
She made slow work of her buttons, getting about half undone before giving up and wriggling out of her gown.
Naked for a breath, she slipped a silky, deep green nightdress over her head, then went to the tall mirror to work on freeing her tresses from their twists and pins.
Hair unbound and glass one-third full, a healthy swig slithered down her throat as sloshing bath water told her Kas was nearly finished in the washroom.
Nerves, again, tensed every muscle in her body. Pinpricks of gooseflesh erupted down her arms, and her belly—and everything below—tightened.
In an attempt to find peace, Nes moved to the windows and meandered down the line to peer out of each one as she’d done during the daytime.
Under the cover of night, hundreds, if not thousands, of firelit lanterns flickered across the city.
The streets were busier now than they had been earlier, but most of the horse drawn vehicles were replaced by people traipsing about.
Opening the window directly in front of the bed, she leaned out, taking in the sounds and smells of the first night of the symposium.
Tiny, flickering strings of flames, crafted by firebearers, were strung between buildings below, casting the pedestrians in an ambient glow.
A jaunty folk song, plucked on fiddles and pounded on drums, floated into the suite.
A young couple drifted by, hotly debating who loved the other more.
The man teased the woman with a splash of water to the face, and she responded by bowling him over with a burst of wind that left them giggling in each other’s arms. Spices from hot meat on food carts and cloying incense whisked in on the evening breeze.
Behind her, the bathing chamber door flew open, and Kas burst into the room then immediately fell silent. She turned slowly from the window, spying little bits and pieces of his—clothed—body through the latticed screen at the head of the bed.
“Nesrina?” His voice was a whisper as he came forward, making his way across the room toward her.
“Mmm?” She drew the window closed and stepped sideways, so she could see him in his linen pants and gaping, unlaced shirt.
“Oh—” He stalled, coming to a standstill several feet away as his eyes roved her nightgown.
It had been a gift from the queen, along with all the best pieces in her wardrobe. The sleeping dress wasn’t horribly risqué, but it wasn’t something she would have packed if she knew she’d be sharing a room with anyone, let alone with him.
Kas’s gaze landed on his now-empty glass in her hand, and he exhaled harshly with a bitter sounding chuckle she wasn’t used to. “Surprised to find you here.”
Perplexed, Nes took a step toward the bar, which was also in the same direction as the duke. “Why?”
He humphed. “Thought you might’ve gone back out.”
“For?”
“To find Sarma.”
Squinting, she said, “You know he left with the king.”
Kas shrugged.
With the sort of courage afforded by consuming a tumbler of whiskey, Nes asked, “Are you fishing for information?”
His little mouth scrunched, full lips pulling together, then he reached forward and snatched the glass from her hand.
“Give that back.”
“I’ll pour you your own.”
She huffed and retreated to their chairs.
“Don’t be upset with me,” he teased sardonically, bringing her a new drink. “I didn’t make him leave this time.”
Her jaw fell open, and she nearly dropped her glass, a flame lit in her unlike no other. “You are infuriating.” She stomped, then collapsed into her seat.
He snorted and took a slow sip of his whiskey, his silvery eyes never leaving her face. “I’m sorry. I’m behaving like a child.”
She sighed and lifted her glass to her lips.
“Do you have feelings for him?”
A spray of whiskey flew from her mouth, speckling her skirt. “It’s none of your business, Lord Kahoth.”
Shocking her, he pouted.
Her nostrils flared as she fought a smile. Alternatively infuriating and captivating, this man’s personality kept her trapped between a rock and a soft place. This must’ve been what Papa meant about nobles and their ingratiating tendencies.
Still, Nes gave in as his pout intensified, admitting, “There’s nothing between us.”
“Between you and the blond guard?”
“Of course! Who else would I mean?”
He smirked, steel eyes flickering in the candlelight. “It wasn’t what I thought happened?”
“It was nothing. But don’t get me wrong, you had no right to send him away from Stormhill.
” She shut down the conversation, voice snappish as she stood.
He watched as she drained her glass and plopped the empty tumbler into his waiting hand.
He could clean it up. She was sick and tired of Kas reminding her of that fool forcing a kiss on her.
Rihan Sarma was not the man she wanted to be embracing.
And the one she did want to kiss was—!
Nes wanted to scream, instead she swooshed her way to the bed, ripped the covers down, and threw herself in.