They perused the symposium’s program several times over, taking turns reading the descriptions aloud and making little marks beside the ones they planned to attend. When it was Kas’s turn to read, Nes foundshe had trouble paying attention to the content. His voice was like a fine whiskey, and she wanted to drink it up.
“I see Talik Thanin’s article will be discussed in the afternoon, the last event before the gala.” He pointed to a paragraph at the bottom of the page.
Nes leaned in, eager to read the author’s name and blurb with her own eyes.
“Although, I was thinking we could leave before then. It makes sense to skip that presentation and get on the road before traffic becomes unbearable.”
Oh. But Thanin was her favorite author, and the closing gala the most beautiful event of the symposium.
“Nes.”
She looked up at him, lips pulled down in a frown.
“I’m teasing. I know you love that man.”
“I do not love him!” Her cheeks bunched as she fought a smile.
“Mmm, I don’t know, you seem pretty smitten to me. That blush.” He reached up, finger coming so close to brushing her face she could feel static before he pulled away.
“I’m not smitten. He could be an old man, for all I know. Angry and pock-marked with a bulbous red nose from too much drink.”
He snorted.
“What? I can’t say for sure. Not many can, after all.”
“Fair enough.” Kas chuckled. “He’s elusive, that Thanin.”
eighteen
Nesrina panics, a couple of times.
TheridetoRohilavolwas long, although nowhere near as taxing as the journey from Kirce Palace to Stormhill. On their three-day journey, Nesrina and the duke talked of everything, including their dreams for their futures. Kas hoped to have a brood of his own one day: at least two children, more if possible. The concept was one she couldn’t think on for too long, for reasons she wasn’t ready to name. Still she deemed the conversation acceptable for friends. Friendship, especially a temporary one, was one thing. Attraction, another. The two absolutely did not, and could not, go hand in hand.
She’d turned their chat back to intellectual pursuits at that point, and he latched on, asking many questions abouttishtafiranand the extent and uses for her creations—not only asking, but listening to her responses. Even when her opinions differed from his—perhapsespeciallythen—Kas probed deeper, never trying to prove her wrong or disregard her perspective.
She found she quite liked having a friend.
The symposium was technically a three-day affair. There was a plenary address and dinner on the first evening followed by two full days of academic demonstrations, presentations, discussions, and the occasional heated argument between self-confident scholars. Then, the annual event would close with the gala, a grand dinner and ball, for all of the attendees.
When they pulled into town just before lunchtime, the busy streets were bursting with visitors from near and far, carriages and foot traffic clogging the thoroughfare. They rolled, rocking over cobbles as Nes studied the Institute’s buildings out her window. Some were shimmery tan stone, some brick, some river rock, and all hugged by creeping ivy keeping bits and baubles of knowledge wrapped safely inside.
Kas popped his head out the window to direct the coach to their inn. He offered a back route that would supposedly allow them to avoid the traffic.
It didn’t help all that much. Even the alleyways on the fine side of Rohilavol were gorgeous with little flowerboxes dotting window ledges, children playing hopscotch, and parents tossing laundry up to dry with bursts of air magic. It still took them fifteen minutes to travel a distance she could’ve made in four on foot. He probably could’ve made it in two minutes. He had very long legs.
Finally, they rolled to a stop at their destination beside a large row of stone stables. Kas got out first, unfolding himself into the open air and stretching with a groan before turning back to offer his hand to Nesrina.
“Welcome to the Elk & Heron,” he rumbled, voice low as he helped her down from their coach.
“Oh,” she gasped, looking up at the tall building before them. She hadn’t recognized it from the back, but the Elk & Heron wasthefinest establishment in town. It was several steps above where she’d stayed with Papa during their many trips together.
Glitz.
When she peeled her eyes away from the four-story building, she found Lord Kahoth watching her with a disconcerting twinkle in his eyes. That was when she realized her palm still rested on his. Before she could move, he closed his giant hand and trapped her. Her breathing grew shallow, but she didn’t try to pull away. If there wasevera time or a place to give in—not to get swept away by the glamor of an aristocratic existence, but to toe that line, toseewhat it might be like—this was it.
While the coachman tended to their horses and staff descended on them to bring in their belongings, Lord Akkas Kahoth, Duke of Stormhill,and Miss Nesrina Tarisden Kiappa, Tutor to the prince and princess of Selwas, walked hand in hand into the Elk & Heron.
Once they were speaking with the owner, he finally let her go. Kas asked the innkeeper about his last-minute request for a second room.
