Chapter 23 Nesrina wears her favorite dress. #2
Supposedly. Nes snorted and turned back to her too-sweet dessert wine, sipping daintily to keep her gown protected from spills.
Now that she’d debuted the confection, she intended to wear it again and again, as often as possible.
It was so similar to the illusion of gold she’d created from chaos when she was nineteen, at her last symposium with Papa.
This year, Nes could feel the brush of silk against her bare thighs.
The last time she’d been in gold at the gala, she’d only felt the scritch of her hidden-beneath-magic woolen skirts against her gangly legs.
She knew, if he could see her from the stars, Papa would be smiling at his little girl.
The gala itself was in the same room where the Thanin presentation took place, transformed into a ballroom fit for the king—although he was no longer in town.
On the dais, a string band warmed up where King Hethtar, and Lord Yaranbur, spoke previously.
Nes had been in the glittering space a few moments when a literal line of men formed in front of her, confusing her with their requests to add their names to her dance card.
She didn’t say no, because it would’ve been rude, but she had no interest in dancing with anyone . . . maybe one man.
A glance found Kas glowering at the floor with his lips pressed into a thin line.
Maybe he doesn’t dance.
Slot after slot filled on her card, and when the melodious tunes of the quartet drifted through the room, a dark-haired man collected her and dragged her onto the floor.
As she was carted about by her partner, whose name she’d already forgotten and who stepped on her toes no less than five times, Nes allowed her mind to leave her body behind.
During her second dance, she studied the leafy carvings that broke up the smooth white wall panels.
At some point during her third dance, with a heavyset older gentleman, she noticed that Kas had tucked himself into a corner, hiding behind a palm.
If she hadn’t been looking expressly for him, she never would have seen him. She laughed.
During her fourth dance, with a frizzy-haired young man whose charming smile comprised straight white teeth, she actually found herself engaged. Nes even tittered at an out of pocket remark he made comparing the guests’ eventual pairing-off for the night to construction. He was a carpenter’s son.
“May I cut in?” A familiar rumble made her stumble in her partner’s arms.
The friendly young man dipped a small bow, and slipped away, and Nes turned to find Kas with his eyes shuttered and his gaze unreadable, as usual.
“What?” she shot, not in the mood for his dramatics. She was enjoying herself too much, in spite of the tepid partners she’d danced with. The gala was always her favorite part of the symposium, bittersweet as it was; it marked the end of another year’s festivities.
“Lord Kahoth,” a familiar voice rang out from the edge of the dance floor, and Kas turned his back on Nesrina.
Esheb.
She craned her neck around him to find the Earl of Midlake standing at the edge of the room, holding two champagne flutes. Beside him, a young woman with perfectly spiraling curls the color of beach sand stood tall, regal. She carried two slender glasses as well.
Kas stepped to Nes’s side and crooked his elbow, which she accepted, even though it meant her arm was dangling.
Together, they approached Isahn and his beautiful companion, who offered up their extra drinks.
Nesrina did her best not to gulp hers down and demand another from a server; it was a practice in patience as she watched the way Kas accepted the proffered glass from the blonde woman’s slender grasp.
Their long fingers touched for far too long.
She sipped her champagne, trying to focus on the way the little bubbles popped on her tongue and not Kas glancing between her and the new woman. Is he comparing us?!
Introductions were made, and the mystery companion turned out to be Isahn’s sister, Lady Solaelia Yaranbur Tarcadu.
Solaelia. Even her name is beautiful. Nes scoffed.
As the arresting Lady Tarcadu laughed at something Kas said, blinking at him with eyes the color of the summer sky, Nes exhaled harshly.
Isahn stepped up to Nesrina’s side, murmuring, “You look like you could use a dance.”
“Is that an offer?” she replied, trying not to sound too hopeful.
“It most certainly is.” He extended a hand, and she accepted with alacrity, handing her empty flute to a passing server.
She was doing well, close to poised even, until Kas and the beautiful lady walked onto the floor.
Rage flash-boiled her blood. He didn’t ask her to dance!
Instead, he chose someone tall, someone regal, someone who matched him.
The crown of Solaelia’s head reached his chin, allowing them to converse sans awkward neck angles as he twirled her strikingly across the floor.
Lord Yaranbur spun Nesrina around, exhibiting impressive patience when she stepped on his feet about thirty-five times.
Kas turned the stunning lady again, and Nes nearly vomited on Isahn. Stomp.
The noblewoman was legitimate, not an untitled interloper operating under the temporary title of Guest of the King.
A fire sprung up in her, so intense she had to force herself to focus on the earl’s double-breasted dinner jacket for the rest of the dance, lest she lose control of her magic again .
. . like with the shrubs. Nes scrunched her face in frustration. Stomp.
Isahn grunted.
An eon later, the song ended, and the earl escorted her to the corner of the dance floor, near the door to the king’s private salon.
The whole row of patio doors stood open, allowing the evening breeze entry into the packed space.
The current of fresh air, helped along by windshifters on staff, did some, but not enough to temper the fire within her.
Her stomach dropped to the floor when she spied her grumpy duke, arm in arm with Lady Tarcadu, disappearing onto the balcony several doors down from where she stood.
Oh, absolutely not. Nesrina recalled her own evening adventure a few years before when Tavid Nithim nearly kissed her before a storm blew in and ruined the moment. Nope. No. No. No.
Finished with the gala in its entirety, she mumbled something to Isahn about feeling unwell, then ducked into the hallway.
Nes dashed past the spot where she’d argued with Rihan and continued down the corridor where the king and his sentries had disappeared that first evening. There had to be an exit down there.
After a few more twists and turns, she shoved her way through a glass-paned door and burst into the night. A group of young people enjoying the joyful herb jumped out of her way as she barreled down the road.
I’m done with the glitz. Done, done, done.