Page 17 of The Chaosweaver's Daughter
First the dragon, now this? Shit.
“I can’t control it! It won’t stop!” the prince shrieked.
Calling on her magic, Nes balled up back-up chaos, just in case. She squatted behind the prince, braced him by the shoulders, and said, “You have a brilliant imagination.” Tension eased from his small frame as she reminded him his creation was nothing more than an illusion—a dangerous shell of an object, but an imitation, nonetheless. “Remember this. You might need it on a battlefield, far,farin the future. But ballrooms and battlefields are twoverydifferent beasts.”
“I can’t reach it.” His small voice squeezed her stomach.
She gave his shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “You don’t have to reach it, Ataht. Breathe. In through your nose... out through your mouth.” They exhaled together, repeating the pattern several times until she encouraged him again, “All right, now let it go.”
With a final exhale from the prince, the bladespoppedout of existence, and Nes tuned in to the magic, watching as tendrils of glimmering golden chaos flowed back out into the world. She panted from the effort of using her sight, but it was worth it, every time. She’d always be grateful Papa taught her that little trick.
“It’s all right everyone, it’s over now,” the king’s voice rang out.
Nes’s eyes widened. She hadn’t noticed his arrival, but there he was, standing in one of the massive doorways with the queen by his side.
The prince and princess raced to their mother while Nes released her store of chaos and took in the destruction to the glamorous ballroom.
Oh.She was fucked.
Ancient-looking tapestries were torn, a portion of one even lay upon the floor. At least eight portraits bore slashes. Several sconces were shattered, their gorgeous glass coverings in shards.
“You’re going to have to go.” The king’s stern voice was close as heappeared at her side.
So much damage. Such a stupid mistake.She nodded. She’d failed, utterly, and should never have left the children’s side until they mastered the ability to release their creations at will.
When he laid his massive palm awkwardly on her shoulder, her heart froze. This was it. She deserved what was coming.
“With the Domossans arriving soon, I’d like to send you and the children somewhere safer to continue your work away from court. I think you can see why we were desperate for a specific type of tutor. I’ve tried to coach them through releasing their magic, without much success. You’re far better equipped than I am for the role.”
“You do have other work to manage,” she offered lightly, feeling no shortage of relief she’d misunderstood him. He was only sending her away. Her heart rate kicked up again.
With a rumble of laughter, the king continued, “You’ve proven yourself invaluable, Miss Kiappa. As long asyou’recomfortable, we’d be honored to have you remain a Guest of the King.”
“Thank you, I’d be honored to stay on. And,” she continued, shocked at how comfortable she’d become around the monarch, “I know this doesn’t look like it, but we’re making progress. The prince and princess are improving each day.”
“I was a youngnaughtbirinonce, too. The things Icreatedthat your father had to save me from...” He patted her on the shoulder. “We’re happy to have you in the family, Miss Kiappa. Come, the staff will clean this up. Let me speak with my queen, and we’ll send word soon on where you’ll be going and when.”
Wordcamethatevening.Nesrina was reading in the grand library when a cough drew her attention from her book about extinct fae. She hadn’t been able to focus on anything with any substance,mind occupied by the impending changes to her routine. It was a servant, sent to retrieve her and deposit her in the king and queen’s family salon.
“Come, join us.” Queen Hevva beckoned Nesrina over to where she sat with her husband on a sofa before the roaring fire.
It was nearly summer, sure, but rooms in the stone-walled palace stayed chilly, even on the balmiest nights.
Perching on an unoccupied sofa, Nes eyed the tumbler of dark liquor in the king’s grip. The queen held a glass of wine in one hand, her other toying with her husband’s hair. Nesrina could go for a nightcap. Was that unprofessional?
“Have a drink?” the king asked.
The queen lifted her glass. “Your duties for the day are complete. Please, join us.”
“I will, thank you.”
“Whiskey or wine?” the servant inquired. It was the same man who had brought her into the family salon.
“Wine, please.” Within a breath, she clutched a green goblet of her own. She’d really wanted whiskey, like the king. But she recognized that it wasn’t the most ladylike of drinks, even though Papa always let her imbibe at home. Wine would have to do.
“Hevva and I have discussed the situation.”
Nesrina nodded and took a sip of her drink, jittery, untethered while she awaited news on her new landing place, her new routine.
