Page 45 of The Chaosweaver's Daughter
Today, she didn’t stop to trace the delicate lines of the sophisticated, carved front doors, or to gaze down the expanse of blue and yellow glazed tiles, or to appreciate the way the morning sunlight cascaded through the hall. Today, her focus was on the telltale blue and gold binding of theJournal of Transcendent Idealssitting atop the day’s correspondence. Embossed above the title was the text, “Advance Copy.”
A shiver of anticipation traveled down her spine. Apparently, the duke was a man of good taste and held sway. To get his hands on an early printof the quarterly was no small feat. She trailed her finger down the crisp binding.First the program, now this?Nes decided to take the delivery as a good sign. His subscription sparked hope that he truly was interested in attending the Symposium of Prodigious Minds.
For a split second, Nes considered snagging the journal for her reading session in the garden, but decided against it. She didn’t know if he’d be expecting it, and if she had any hope of getting him to drag her along to the three-day affair in Rohilavol, she needed to stay on his good side.
“You know I’m attracted to you, right?”Again, his words rang in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder what “staying on his good side” might mean. She’dneverconsider being his mistress. He better not have that in mind. All she could hope was that whatever strangeness had attached itself to their already odd relationship could be set aside by both of them, maturely, so she might weasel her way into attending the academic event of the year.
Thatevening,assunsetloomed, Nesrina climbed from the tub with a plan to head down to the library. She dried herself and tugged on a simple dress, a new one from the queen. Silky and coral, it highlighted the blue in her eyes, an azure ring around her irises that was usually overshadowed by the green. Dropping the towel from her wet hair, she shook it out with her fingers and decided to let it dry on its own. She had reading to do.
Taking a lesser-traveled corridor toward the front of the house, Nes passed through a heavy door into an unused apartment she’d discovered. From there, a narrow staircase led directly into the library.
At this time of day, the library was usually empty. Occasionally the twins’ other tutors would be inside, picking through one text or another as they developed their next lessons. That evening, she found a different surprise.
Akkas Kahoth sat in the far corner at the intersection of the two windowed walls. One of his long legs was bent, his ankle resting on his opposite knee as he leaned back in his chair, a near silhouette surrounded by the setting sun’s glow. His attention rested on her rather than the text propped against his raised calf.
Her eyes found his perfectly plump mouth, and she gave him a silent nod of greeting, fighting the urge to lift her fingers to her lips. They burned with the memory of his chaste kiss. Nes wasn’t positive, but it looked like his gaze flicked from her to the sofa on his left. Either way, that was precisely where she intended to sit.
It was rare to see Lord Kahoth outside of his study, the dining room, or his visits to her lessons with Della and Ataht. Approaching warily, she half expected him to snatch up his books and papers, or to demand she leave his space. He did not. Instead, he smiled.
“You know I’m attracted to you, right?”Oh, she did know... now. And it certainly hadn’t made things easier. The fact that he’d forced her to admit her ownattraction to him had only mucked things up. It was far simpler when she ignored the positive aspects of his personality.
“Miss Kiappa, what asurpriseto see you here.” His voice rolled over to her, slithering into her bones with a curious quiver. She didn’t miss the way he lingered on “surprise,” as if he wasn’t shocked to find her there at all.
“Lord Kahoth,” she replied, stopping before the table where her eyes locked onto a familiar blue tome.
“Yes?”
Was he annoyed with her or nudging her to speak? Was this the old Akkas who scolded her for eating in the library? Or the new Akkas who shocked her soul by kissing her in the night?
“The Journal of Transcendent Ideals.” Nesrina’s fingers extended a bit, wanting so badly to snatch it up, but she forced her hands to her sides and smoothed her silky skirt.
“Yes, that’s the title. Glad to know you can read.”
Lips pressed in a thin line, Nes exhaled harshly through her nose. Ignoring his baiting comment, she decided it was as good a time as any toask about the journal. “It’s one of my favorites. Would you let me borrow it once you’ve finished?”
He made a quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, and her eyes snapped to his. She followed his gaze to find he was watching the nervous flex and release of her leg as she used her toe to trace the table’s carvings below his line of sight.
“Of course. I’m finished, if you’d like to take it now?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, a shower of anticipation smoothing away her starched anxiety. He eyed her curiously as she retrieved the book. “I think I’ll stay here, it’s so lovely this time of day.”
“I agree. Lovely. That’s why I’m here, too.”
The way he eyed her sent another frustrating thrum through her system, turning her bones to putty as she moved to the sofa. Nesrina met the duke’s confusing gaze, her eyes tightening as she tried to make sense of him. It was impossible, so she gave up and flopped on the leather couch.
Rotating her back to him, Nes reclined, her head resting on the arm of the long sofa, feet not even close to touching the opposite end. With a little grunt, she used an arm to free her wet hair trapped beneath her, allowing it to dangle over the side of the couch. She wiggled, settling in before flipping open the journal, only to be pulled from her impending reverie by a light tugging and tickling on her scalp.
Nes froze, trying to make sense of what was happening.Spider?Again, her hair rippled, and she realized tendrils of hot dry air were weaving between her damp waves.
Arching slightly, she tilted her head back so she could see the duke where he sat, studying her—no, studying her hair.
“Thank you?”
Abruptly, the breeze ceased.
“It takes forever to dry,” she offered, unsure of what to say, of what he’d been doing.
“Wet. It’ll ruin the leather.” He huffed, and the breeze resumed.
