“Cyclical feels like the right word, or maybe counterbalanced?” Kas replied, the back of his hand brushing her arm as they walked to their second session of the day—the final day. The symposium went far too fast, and their impending departure was a dark cloud hovering on his horizon. But walking with her by his side felt amazing, and something like pride wrapped in comfort settled over his heart. This wasn’t over. “I already knew Gramenians use light and dark magic in their farming, but the information about their funerary practices was new.” Glancing down, he found her bobbing her head in agreement.
“It’s a beautiful tradition, with the trees,” she murmured.
Nes’s tiny feet moved twice as fast as his while she attempted to keep up. That couldn’t have been enjoyable for her, so he slowed.
Their next lecture was on the ancient use of ritual magic, an antiquities presentation regarding carved runes found in the remote peaks of the Dhegurs. The presenters argued that faeries once practiced blood magic there. Kas wasn’t sure how he felt about that assertion.
Nesrina wasn’t convinced either. “That feels preposterous,” she commented as he held the door for her after the lecture.
Sunlight passed through the wispy curls escaping her braid, glowing golden brown, and he wondered if that’s what chaos looked like to her.
Nes continued, “Blood magic to determine whether people are relatedto one another? If such a thing existed at any point, it would be useful. I find it hard to believe knowledge like that would’ve been lost to time.”
“Perhaps it’s not lost. Maybe it exists and is under wraps,” Kas offered, joining Nes on her walk across the quadrangle. “Though, I agree with you. I find it improbable.”
When he was a new student here, the idea of crossing the quad with a beautiful woman at his side was, honest to gods, one of his daydreams. As a bookish teen, the mere thought of conversing, in any meaningful way, with any woman other than his sister was apoplexy-inducing. His scant experiential learning was paying off, nearly a decade later. A smile flitted across his face at the concept of his younger self witnessing him here now, with the brilliant, beautiful Nesrina Kiappa at his side.
“Kas!” Nes’s voice called him back to reality.
“Hmm?” He met her gaze, sun calling out the blue in the middle of her eyes.
“Did you hear anything I said?”
Sheepishly, he shook his head.
Nes’s lips quivered, and he had to pinch his pant leg to stop his hand from flying up to her adorable mouth.
“I was asking where your next session is. Aren’t you going to something boring?”
He raised a brow. “Aren’tyougoing to something boring?”
Stopping before an ancient-looking building, one where Kas had once taken courses on the Old Tongue years before, Nes retorted, “Thetitillatinglecture I’m attending is in here... I believe.” She craned her neck to double-check the signage engraved above the door.
“It is. And mine’s over there.” Kas hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing where they’d come from.
“Oh.” She fidgeted, fingertip tracing the iron railing. “You didn’t have to accompany me.”
“I know I didn’t. I wanted to.”
Her mouth fell open in a silent O.
Kas couldn’t help but brush his fingers against the back of her hand. It was better than popping his index finger in her mouth as his mindsuggested. “Meet back at the inn when we’re done?”
She nodded mutely before spinning on her heel and dashing inside.
While Kasnearlyjoined her at her dull as rocks lecture on the merits of philosophical stoicism, he forced logic to win out in the end, reminding himself he was a grown man, capable of spending an hour away from her. The panel discussion he attended was on the mining potential of gypsum; a potential new venture to bring more prosperity to Kabuvirib. While he did pick up excellent tidbits about gypsum, he spent most of the session reassuring himself he was making exceptional headway with Nesrina, he only needed to shift the tone of their conversations from erudite to exploratory—with passion intact.
Theymetforalate lunch at the Elk & Heron, as planned, before moseying to the public hall for the penultimate event of the entire symposium, the presentation that interested Nes the most, the one he had so much fun teasing her about: a discussion on Thanin’s latest work.
His dear friend Isahn was acting as the author’s spokesperson, per usual, and would be summarizing the elusive scholar’s latest piece, then moderating a discussion on the subject.
They took seats near the back of the room, snagging the only two chairs side-by-side. The popular session was nearing capacity, and within a few minutes, only standing room remained.
He knew Nes couldn’t see much of anything past the broad shoulders ahead of her, but she was listening, entranced, the entire presentation. It was obvious from the way she nodded along, bouncing one leg in excitement, or drumming her fingers against her knee when she wasn’t sure if she agreed with one of Isahn’s statements.
Kas found he listened to little of the presentation proper, distracted, as always, by the incomparable Nesrina Kiappa.
After the talk, a heated discussion derailed Isahn’s best attempts atmoderating. Someone across the room with a froggish voice shouted his disagreement with the author’s proposal to replacenaughtbirinwithtishtafir.
