One
Hevva arrives at the inn.
“There’s a discussion on the cooling properties of firebearing, isn’t that fantastic? No! I tricked you. It’s terrible because I can’t decide between that and the one on windshifting. Which would you pick?”
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“Mhm, sounds great Kas.” Hevva was distracted by a pair of women in exquisite riding habits making their way down the thoroughfare. She was busy choosing her favorite of the two outfits and missed the entirety of her brother’s question.
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“You don’t even want to be here,” he scolded, giving her shin a swift kick from his seat on the opposite bench.
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“Do not kick me, Akkas Kahoth.” Hevva drew from the wood of the carriage floor and shackled her brother’s ankles to the bench so he couldn’t do it again. “If I didn’t want to chaperone you, you’d know.”
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The scamp laughed, using his magic to send a puff of wind into Hevva’s face that left her sputtering.
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“We’re here,” Aylin cut in as the vehicle rolled to a stop. Her maid’s tone held a note of reproach, hidden beneath laughter. It served to put the countess and her younger brother directly back in line, just in time to step out into polite company.
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Lady Hevva Tilevir and Lord Kas Kahoth alighted from their carriage in front of the Elk & Heron. The immaculate multi-story inn would be their home for the duration of the Symposium of Prodigious Minds. Rohilavol, the riverside town and host of the annual event, fizzed with anticipation. Carriages clogged the cobbled streets, men and women deep in conversation pushed past, some carrying luggage, some toting books. Hevva wasn’t exactly bubbling over with excitement for the academic compendium. She was there for her little brother, and because she thought the worldly town might have some modern ideas to share.
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As they approached the grand inn, with its ivy-clad walls and ornate wooden carvings that seemed to reach out and wave them welcome, Hevva nudged her brother with her elbow. “Excited?”
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“Oh, yes!”
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Aylin bustled past, hurrying ahead of the siblings to draw open the heavy door to the Elk & Heron.
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“Thank you.” Hevva smiled. She stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light. A long dark bar stretched the length of the wood and papered space, and from behind the near-end, the innkeeper greeted them. A haze of energy buzzed around the many patrons who dotted the room’s tables and booths, sipping a variety of liquors and contrasting wines.
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“Countess Kabuvirib, a pleasure to have you with us,” the innkeeper, a portly man with a welcoming smile, greeted them.
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After exchanging pleasantries, they moved through the check-in process. They’d been given a space on the third floor, facing the quieter rear yard. Two beds were in the room for the young lord and lady, plus an attached chamber for Aylin. Hevva, with her usual air of grace, stepped forward to accept the key from the innkeeper. However, her composure wavered when the Baron of Turkhane entered the inn. He skulked up behind her and sidled close, far too close for her liking.
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“Lady Hevva,” Lord Nithim, the Baron of Turkhane, hacked out the H in her name though it was meant to be closer to silent. She did not miss the lecherous gleam in his eyes. “A vision as always. I must say, Rohilavol has never seen such beauty.”
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Features tightening, Hevva managed a curt nod. “Turkhane,” she acknowledged. The man’s presence unnerved her, but she wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. “I am certain your claim will hold little water after you’ve sampled the delights the symposium has to offer.” She knew as well as anyone that half the events of the compendium would take place off schedule and after dark.
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Behind her, her much younger brother chortled. That boy was too wise for his years.
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“If you will excuse us, Lord Nithim, we need to retire. It’s been exhausting.” Hevva popped in the word “exhausting” where one might say “a pleasure.” “The day, I mean,” she lied.
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With that, their little trio ascended the stairs. The Elk & Heron spared no expense in providing their guests with opulent accommodations. She was happy to find that their space overlooked the yard and stables, as the innkeeper promised. Part of her wouldn’t have minded a view of the main street, but a larger part wanted to be able to sleep at night.
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While Hevva hadn’t been to the symposium before and didn’t know quite what to expect, her younger brother’s endless prattling about the fantastical-sounding annual event eventually had an impact. When little Lord Kas convinced their father to let him go, it included one caveat: Hevva had to escort him.
She wasn’t dumb. She knew what was happening. Bearing down on twenty-five, she was still unmarried, heir to the duchy of Stormhill, and already a countess in her own right. Many assumed the title of Kabuvirib was bestowed upon her as a courtesy and her father still ran the mining town behind the scenes. They were wrong. Hevva loved the leadership, the management, being among her people; both in Kabuvirib and at home in Stormhill.
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That didn’t matter though.
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Well, it did. It just wasn’t enough. She’d need to marry one day, she wanted to marry one day, and the duke—her father, though he typically donned his ducal hat for these types of conversations—insisted she do it sooner rather than later.
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“You will accompany Kas to Rohilavol for the week.”
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She’d nodded, happy to oblige her doe-eyed beggar of a brother in spite of his shenanigans. She hadn’t missed the way he’d swapped his exaggerated pout for an expression of pure glee.
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“Good,” her father replied. “It’s a great place to meet a nice, well-educated, common young man.”
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The flavor had been slightly different in that conversation, but the meat was the same as what he always tossed her way: Find a nice common boy. It’s what her grandmother did, and it worked out great. It’s not what her father had done.
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Her parents did love each other very much. However, that wasn’t always the case. Their start was rocky, and while her mother, Lady Enrei Tilevir, wasn’t of noble birth, she was the daughter of a wealthy trader and used to a certain standard of living. Her mom’s extravagance strained her dad’s coffers until they found their footing.
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Their rough start scarred the duke. Find a nice common boy. His mantra had its merits. She could find a nice common boy, someone without pretensions, someone very different from the stuck-up-his-own-arse Baron of Turkhane, and basically every other member of the peerage whom she’d met in her twenty-four years. Still, this wasn’t the time. Despite what her father may wish, she was here for one reason only. Well, two. First, to make sure her brother had a wonderful time, and second, to explore the bustling town on her own.
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The name Saka sounded nice. Perhaps she’d try it and a tatty dress on for size.
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Once settled, Hevva and Kas sat down for a rest in their small sitting area at the maid’s behest, and Aylin began to unpack. The rising din of conversation outside signified the arrival of more and more symposium attendees. The event was so popular it tripled the town’s population, making it a city for those three days of the year, or so she’d heard. The air was charged with anticipation: the socializing, the sightseeing, the scholars, the discussions. Hevva was in it for the first two, her brother for academics.
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“Hevva, this is going to be incredible! Did you see the list of speakers on the firebearing panel?” Kas exclaimed, a glint of excitement in his eyes. He leaned forward, waving a packet of paper in his sister’s face. “I think I’ll have to go to this. Forget about windshifting!”
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She nodded absently, more interested in her surroundings as she peered out the window and watched yet another set of fine horses be led into the stables. “It’s impressive, Kas. Just ensure you make the most of it.”
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“Why don’t you two go find something to do before the address this evening?” Aylin suggested as she hung the last of Hevva’s gowns and used her watercoursing to push the empty chest out of the way up against a free wall.
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“We could walk around town,” Hevva offered.
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“I’m hungry,” Kas whined, the superb event program forgotten.
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“Well then, let’s go find something to eat.” She beamed at her brother. Their interests may diverge on most things, but food would always be their great equalizer. “Would you like us to bring anything back for you?” she asked Aylin over her shoulder as they neared the door.
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“Oh, no, thank you, my dear. I think I’ll take a short nap and mosey around town later on this evening while you’re all listening to the king’s speech. I promised Thera I’d purchase her new ribbons.”
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“You take such good care of your wife.”
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“It’s what I do, my lady. I take care of those I love.”
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Didn’t she know it. Hevva grinned at her maid, and with that, she and Kas, the young-ish lady and the very young lord, made their way downstairs to dine on the Elk & Heron’s lavish ground floor.
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Kas picked a tucked away high-backed booth that offered an excellent view of the long room running the length of the establishment. They savored a light meal of crumpets and iced glasses of Selwas’s signature spiced tea while observing the influx of guests. Wealthy merchants and nobles alike joined them at the Elk & Heron, which was evidently the place to be.
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As they ate, Kas engaged her in a mature conversation about the symposium’s highlights, most of which she tuned out. Eventually, he turned the topic to gossip, which caught her depthless attention.
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“I heard”—he sipped from his glass—“that both King Hethtar and the prince will be at the opening address this evening.”
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“What is the significance of that, do you think?”
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He shrugged. “Mom believes it’s a show of strength, telling the country they are not divided in the wake of their father’s passing.”
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“Are they not just two siblings traveling together, like us?”
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Kas looked at her pointedly, far too astute for someone his age. “Would you travel with Prince Nekash of your own volition?”
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She snorted. “Kas! Shhh. Be careful what you say in public.”
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He shrugged. “What are they going to do? Shout at me? He has a reputation.”
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“And what do you know of reputations?”
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He popped a tea cake in his mouth and settled in to peer at the newest party arriving through the front door. “It’s strange here, don’t you think?”
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“How so?” she inquired, watching as the innkeeper’s wife served two glasses of wine to an older couple who shuffled up to the bar. At least, she assumed it was the innkeeper’s wife based on the way the portly man planted a kiss on the woman’s crooked mouth.
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“It seems as though the rules don’t really apply the way they do at home, or in Serkath, or anywhere else.”
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She cocked her head at Kas, asking for more, though she thought she knew what he was getting at. This event seemed to exist outside of their wonderful kingdom’s sometimes dull-as-rocks social strata and rule-bound gatherings.
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“Look, there’s Baron Turkhane, and I do not believe that’s his wife. Or there, that’s the Lady of Napivol, who is definitely married to a lord and not the Lady of Rohapavol.”
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Hevva followed Kas’s gaze out the back window of the inn to where the two ladies, both of whom she recognized from court, were snogging openly by the stables. “Oh, my! All right Kas, let’s go upstairs.”
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He laughed.
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“Genuinely, brother, this is a grand opportunity. I hope you learn and enjoy every moment of it.” Then, because his gaze drifted back to the women, she added, “Just . . . don’t take part in any of the extracurricular activities. Sanctioned events only. All right?”
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“Fine.”
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“Not until you’re much older. Promise?”
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“I promise.”
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Hevva was proud of her brother, the way he committed himself to his education, and was always seeking to learn more, to understand better. She didn’t feel quite the same passion, and when she did, books weren’t her chosen medium.
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After their early dinner, Hevva delivered a packet of wrapped crumpets to Aylin, who—as expected—wound up enjoying them despite protestations that she was “fine.” Then, they dressed and made their way to the public building for the plenary address.
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Hevva, in her blue and silver gown, and Kas, with a fervent spark in his eyes, ventured into the heart of the symposium.