Page 1 of The Chaosweaver's Daughter
Prologue
Kalalitani.
One year, ten months ago.
“Sir,you’renotlisteningto what I’m saying.” A woman’s voice cut through the chatter inside an assembly room as Kas loped by. “Whatled you to your conclusion?”
He was on his way to meet a friend for lunch but found himself intrigued by the woman, half-shouting, beyond the cracked doorway.
“The statements of believable men!” a man yelled.
“Thank you,” she called. “Statementsare hearsay. You can’t base a scientific argument on the hearsay of men.”
“You need to ask women, too!” another voice shouted, male.
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not my point,” the woman grumbled, and Kas realized she stood just inside the door, her back to him. He’d been looking right over her head.
A tangle of brown hair bobbed before him as she went on, “You’ve provided no tangible evidence, no proof that there were ever temples in Selwas, or an established belief system, at any point in the past. There are stories and lore. Your conclusion that the declining birthrate is the result of abandonment by the gods is based on the false premise that there were gods to abandon us in the first place.”
The crowd erupted into pandemonium, and Kas chuckled as the woman stomped her foot and tossed her hands in the air. There was at least one temple in Selwas, at his estate. But he was late to lunch, so he hurried away forhis meeting.
That evening, at the closing gala of the annual Symposium of Prodigious Minds, he skulked beside a potted plant. It took time to locate a palm taller than himself, but he found one that provided sufficient cover. He was sick of the crowd.
It had been a rough year, losing his parents and taking over the family’s titles, but the little distractions, like sipping whiskey in a corner while fronds tickled his forehead, were the perfect escape from his many duties.
He’d love to find that woman from earlier, the one who was ranting about scientific inquiry. What would the look on her face be when he told her he had a temple? Still, she was right: Conclusions could not be drawn based on hearsay alone. Clearly, whoever had been presenting, hadn’t done their research.
With a sigh, Kas swirled his glass and lifted it, catching light from the chandeliers. It was good stuff: a rich, golden whiskey. Imported from Domos, most likely.
Through the undulating glass, he spotted her swirling around the dance floor in a dress the color of his drink. It was her; he was positive. Petite, with a nest of brown curls atop her head. Her gown flowed with her graceful movements, like whiskey down his throat. The highlights in her hair glowed tawny like a good vintage, and something about her warmed his stomach in much the same way.
I need a new metaphor.He took a long swig, never once losing sight of his new distraction.
She could be anyone, although Kas didn’t think she was from a titled family. To be fair, it was hard to tell. The annual symposium was a place for scholars from every background to convene and discuss the year’s greatest advancements on various topics of inquiry. Magical sciences, physical sciences, metaphysical sciences, metaphorical sciences; it was all presented, discussed, and torn to shreds by fellow academics. He’d come every year for the past decade, and each proved to be a mentally and socially stimulating affair.
New ideas from the presentations, brilliant and idiotic alike, pranced through his mind while the woman twirled beneath the raised hand of her dance partner.
Tavid Nithim.Kas recognized the young buck, a son of the Baron of Turkhane. The enchanting woman in a gown of gold twirled again as she rested her palm on Tavid’s chest.
Kas shivered as a frisson of frustration shot through him. And when the song came to an end, and Tavid tugged her out to the terrace, Kas followed them into the starlit night.
It only took a moment to locate her. Clad in metallic, she was a beacon under the flickering torches. Ensnared by the sour, rising tide of envy, Kas watched Tavid lean in, his chin touching the side of her face as he whispered something.
She giggled, prompting the young man to slink his gangly arm around her body, grasping her bottom and giving it a jiggle. Again, he spoke in her ear, making her blush and swat at his chest.
Kas half wished he’d sent his magic out to call their voices closer so he could listen, but he didn’t need to add to the consortium in his mind.
When Tavid tilted his head toward the woman, Kas sneered, sending a strong gust of wind to smack him in the face and whip at his jacket. Drawing back in alarm, Tavid abandoned his mission to kiss her, and hurried her back inside.
The woman’s lilting laughter sent a pulse of heat skittering through Kas’s abdomen. Lost in thoughts of scientific inquiry and golden gowns, he stared at nothing, sipping his drink, and trying to convince himself to go find her for an introduction before the symposium came to a close.
“Brother.”
A hand on his arm jolted him from his reverie, and he found his sister eyeing him mirthfully.
“Come, the king and I would like to talk about tutors.”
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