Page 68 of The Chaosweaver's Daughter
“You know him?” She searched Kas’s face, willing him to look at her. “Why didn’t you say?”
He met her gaze for a blink, before focusing on something beyond her, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word she said.
Isahn chimed in, “Unfortunately, Talik’s disfigurement is recent. Kas here hasn’t seen him in many years and must not have known.”
The duke grunted in response.
Jovially, Isahn announced, “Well, I should be going. It was great to see you, Kas.”
Their handshake was firm and fast, veins popping from the back of Kas’s hand.
“Miss Kiappa, it was wonderful to meet you.” Isahn stepped back and gave her a jaunty bow, complete with a flourish, before he strode away to strike up conversation with another group of scholars.
Dinnerbeforetheclosinggala was held in the public hall’s many side chambers and spacious foyers. The marble floors were dotted with circular tables, enough to seat hundreds of guests. Nesrina remained relatively quiet during the meal, relishing the sensation of being the smallest mind in the room and feeling more beautiful than ever before in her life.
Her hair had cooperated perfectly, especially after she asked Kas to dry her curls. And this dress was her favorite: A translucent layer of spun gold encrusted with a latticework of clear gems floated over underskirts of golden silk. She’d saved the elaborate gown for that particular night, holding out hope that she’d convince the duke to bring her along to Rohilavol. It worked, thank the fates, and here she was wearing the dress of her dreams.
Nearby, a trio of young men enthusiastically debated a rumor they’d heard. Apparently, Domossan magic wielders could “entertain”psychically, using sensory magic.
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 sosimilar 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 lineof 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.
