Page 5 of The Chaosweaver's Daughter
“What of it?”Oh, shit. Why’d I say that?
He chuckled, and in that moment his demeanor shifted. It was like he’d been carrying a sack of bricks on his back, and the weight dropped away. Leaning forward lightly, King Hethtar intertwined his fingers and tapped his thumbs together. “Have you any experience? Would you consider yourself as skilled of an instructor as Hothan?”
“He taught me well. Boats and books.”
The king returned her smile.
Bolstered, Nesrina continued, “What I lack in experience, I make up for by being a quick study. And as we both know, practical skills come quickly when one has a solid foundational knowledge. I’ve been instructing the watercourser and firebearer children of Kedran Rashooli, a—”
“Honey merchant from Napivol. Yes. All right.” He leaned back casually. “Fantastic. Thank you, Miss...?” the king trailed off, unsure of her surname.
In Selwas, men and women kept their last name and passed it to their sons and daughters, respectively. Her middle name was Tarisden, her father’s surname, but it wasn’t hers. King Hethtar clearly didn’t remember who Hothan had married, no matter how close they may have been in decades past.
“Kiappa. Nesrina Kiappa,” she offered.
“Miss Kiappa, you’re dismissed.” He gave her the smallest of smiles. “I must speak with my queen. We’ll summon you shortly.”
Rihandepositedherina private sitting room where she waited impatiently for what felt like hours until a servant, an older man with livery that marked him as an earthshaper, retrieved her and escorted her to meet with the king and queen.
Head high. Read the room. Quiet confidence.Her father’s old advice helped a bit, but Nes still found her thumb brushing circles over the smooth nail of her index finger as she stepped over the threshold into an enormous salon.
“Miss Kiappa.” The king’s welcome carried over from where he stood beside a small round table set with four chairs. The queen was at his side, one slender hand resting on her chair back. “Please, join us.” He gestured to the table, and the queen stepped aside, revealing a delightful array of little biscuits and sandwiches beside a colorful pot of tea.
Nesrina’s stomach grumbled, and sheshushedthe damn thing as she walked over to the royals. The portraits she’d seen of Queen Hevva didn’t do her justice. Her pale, almost silvery blue eyes appraised Nesrina kindly, and Nes found herself entranced by the woman’s welcoming nature—and her hair. She wished hers could look that good.
Standing before them, she dropped into a low curtsy.
“Please rise.” The queen’s voice rang out crisp and clear.
Nesrina smiled at the couple who held her fate in their hands, and, in spite of the kindness on Queen Hevva’s face, and the king’s benevolence thus far, she couldn’t help the tightening of her chest and the pulsing in her fingertips. She needed this job. Mama and she were desperate for the income.
“Sit.” King Hethar’s command felt friendlier than it had in his study.
Nesrina selected the empty chair nearest the queen and glanced around quickly, wondering if there might be a servant nearby to pour their tea. Seeing no one, the panicked thought that she should be doing it raced through her mind; some sort of test of her abilities to read their needs. But before she could jump into action, the queen grasped the teapot and served them all.
Nes’s eyeswidened.
“Do you take honey?”
Of course, who doesn’t?“Please.” Nes pinched her leg beneath the table, double-checking she wasn’t dreaming as Queen Hevva drizzled a healthy helping of honey from a drip stick into the cup and passed it across the table.
“We keep a casual household whenever possible. Help yourself,” King Hethtar voiced, explaining away her confusion while reaching forward to pluck a small sandwich from the tray between them. Downing the snack in two bites, he went on, “We’d like to ask you some questions.”
With that, the meeting turned into an interview. The king and queen peppered her with a variety of inquiries pertaining to her upbringing, her character and morals, learning, teaching, management styles, and more. They didn’t ask how she performed under pressure, but then again, the situation made that question unnecessary.
The hard edge of the interrogation was softened, somewhat, by the delicious mug of spiced tea she sipped on and the array of sandwiches she sampled. Her favorite was a light one with sliced cucumber, some sort of soft white cheese, and spices.
The rulers seemed receptive to her presence and happy with her answers, but she wasn’t sure she was reading them right, especially not when they kept glancing at one another, sharing the sort of silent conversation only possible from spending years in another person’s company.
Eventually, when she thought her rising anxiety would force out the tasty sandwiches she’d ingested, the king slapped a broad palm on the table and exclaimed, “Well!”
“Well!” the queen echoed with a smile directed at Nes.
King Hethtar grinned. “I think it goes without saying, we’re quite interested in bringing you on for a trial period to work with the children.”
It did not go without saying. But his words served as a tonic that settled her nausea.
“Given, of course,” he continued, “you’re still interested in the position after meeting them at dinner tonight.”
