“I’m sorry miss, he was sent back to the capital.”
The words hit her like she’d been conked over the head by one of the fine vintages.That infuriating duke!“Do you know why?” She kept her tone warm, though her voice shivered, a product of the ice running through her veins.
Thera shook her head almost imperceptibly before she spoke, as if in admonishment—of her? Rihan? Someone else?“I believe he was summoned on the king’s orders.”
Supposedly.
Thera provided little beyond a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry, Miss Kiappa. You’ll have to speak with Lord Kahoth for additional information.”
Nes let out a ragged sigh before thanking the woman, steeling herself, and marching from the room. There was one place the damn Duke of Stormhill would be this time of day.Thiswas what her papa was always banging on about, high-handed and manipulative behavior for their own gain. What could Lord Kahoth be getting out of this except to make her life miserable? Regardless, his behavior tracked with Papa’s warnings.
She pounded through the house, though her footsteps weren’t quite as loud as she’d have liked, since she was wearing her new coral slippers. Still, the unladylike pace she set helped relieve some of the negativity roiling inside her. Frustration, anxiety, anger, sadness, unease, petulance; she attempted to tamp them all down with each step she took closer to Lord Kahoth’s private study. It did little to help.
She pulled herself to a halt a few steps from his door. There, in the short hallway, Nes tried to force a state of calm by taking a few deep, steadying breaths. The first was successful, releasing a smidge of her rampant rage into the ether. The second breath, not so much. As she inhaled, her chestsputtered, throat pulsing a warning sign that sadness and frustration were about to usurp control and let loose a torrent of tears. She hummed roughly—it was more of a grunt, but that was an action for grumpy tall men not five-foot-nothing women—and invited anger to the forefront as she positioned herself to confront the infuriating Duke of Stormhill.
Rapping on the door to his study, she was met with silence. So, she counted to ten.
She pounded on the door and received a muffled cough. Through ragged breaths, she counted to ten again.
She hammered louder. Silence. This time, she only made it to six before turning and stomping away.
Oh. My. Gods. This. Infuriating.Man. Rude. Horrid. Meddler.Each step she took was punctuated by an angry thought as Nesrina walked directly into the library and over to her favorite corner.
She hopped onto the chaise, standing on tiptoes to get as close as possible to the vent that must’ve led into his office.
“Stop hiding away like a coward and come speak to me.”
Silence.
She counted to ten.Gods.She was getting sick of counting. “Akkas Kahoth, Iknowyou’re in there. Come out and talk to me.”
Silence.
She counted to ten, again. “What right do you think you have—”
“I was busy.” His voice was ice on the back of her neck as she spun atop the lounge to find him standing there. With the added height the chaise afforded her, they met eye to eye.
“AndIwashappywith my routine. Was this your doing?”
“What?” he asked with an exaggerated shrug and a pout of his stupid, tiny mouth.
It took everything in Nesrina’s power not to put both hands on his chest and shove him back. “Did you send him back to Kirce?” She couldn’t even say his name aloud.Rihan, the golden-haired guard—herguard.
“He was needed for the delegation.”
“That’s not what I asked.” She craned her neck forward, trying to meet the duke’s confusing gaze, but he was studying something far moreinteresting down near her toes.
That was the only answer she needed.
“Get out of my way.” Nes’s voice was steel, yet her words seemed to bounce off the statuesque man as he did, finally, lift his chin.
His eyes bore into hers; dark and tempestuous.
She refused to cower. “Get out of my way.” Her palms tingled, magic rising as she called in threads of chaos from nearby, slowing the flickering candles.
Something softened, infinitesimally, in the duke’s eyes, but not enough to make her feel sorry for the ire she was bombarding him with.
“Youinfernalman. I may be in the employ of your sister and brother, but I do not work for you. Get out of my way.”
