Ehmet groaned and drank down his wine. He’d be married before the winter, there were no two ways about it if he hoped to stop the obnoxious meddling of Uncle Yusuf. A silver-haired beauty with irises the color of stormy skies danced through his mind’s eye.
The king stood from the table. He was done and didn’t care whether his mother and brother stayed to talk or cleared out as well. “Fine, send the invitations.”
twelve
Hevva dives in.
It was late afternoonwhen Hevva arrived home after a visit to Kabuvirib—three weeks to the day from when she’d returned from the symposium with Kas and driven up the very same packed dirt drive. Stormhill, with its gray stone walls and the afternoon sun winking in the windows, had welcomed her then and did so again. Her family’s seat sat atop a hill overlooking the lakeside town of the same name. Architecturally different, geographically different, altogetherdifferentthan Rohilavol, she still couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Loch Burshin ran off into the river that flowed all the way down to the king’s home at Hewran Hall. He wasn’t even there anymore, neither one of him.
In spite of the weeks that passed since the symposium, unwanted memories spun through her mind’s eye. She’d tried to replace them with not one but three wild nights out in Kabuvirib with her dear friend, and mine overseer, Lorin. Perhaps because everyone knew them in town, perhaps because Lorin was half a foot shorter than Hevva and never once lifted her up, perhaps because she was asheand not Berim, it didn’t work. Even talking Lorin’s ear off about her adventures, in which she changed King Ehmet to a merchant’s son, didn’t help at all.
Home again, she was chagrined to learn the symposium was still Kas's primary topic of conversation. It was the sole subject she wanted to avoid, so she retreated to her rooms. Sending Aylin off to catch upwith her wife, Hevva unpacked on her own. She often enjoyed the monotony of the task, but not that day. It offered too much time, too much quiet for her thoughts to race back to Rohilavol.
When her brother came tumbling into her chamber on too-long legs and begged Hevva to go to the creek with him, she gave in, though she feared he’d turn the topic to their time at the symposium.
They swam in blissful silence for a long while, and Hevva got the distinct impression overly-wise Kas had picked up on her disinterest in discussing their recent shared trip. In an attempt to find a suitable topic, and being no stranger to her future marriage intentions, he asked if she met any “nice common boys” in Kabuvirib. The question didn’t go as he intended, seeing as she quite forgot to answer. Hevva floated in the slow-moving section of the creek, staring up at the leafy green treetops that reminded her of a certain someone’s eyes.
She hadn’t met any nice common boys in Kabuvirib, but she certainly had in Rohilavol. Kind of. Berim was perfect. If only she could find arealboy who fit that mold. She’d had the chance to dance with one before the blasted king showed up to draw her away.
Kas must have seen the pinched expression upon her face or noticed the way she kept chewing on her lip while trying in vain to relax. He dove beneath her and headbutted Hevva on the back. After she finished sputtering and splashing her little brother, he launched the next conversation.
“Tell me about Kabuvirib! Any new veins or exciting developments?” For a boy of fourteen, he was far too interested in their mining town in northern Selwas. But the dull subject was a welcomed distraction for the countess.
“Nothing too great, more iron as always, garnets, some olivine.”And olivine is green, like—
Oh, my gods. Stop.
“Good, good.” Kas pursed his small mouth before diving down to the bottom of the swimming hole they’d built a decade before. She’d been slightly older than his current age and he’d been no more than three when they started the project. It took two years of semi-diligent work to move the stones into place and dam up a substantial portion of the stream. Theresults were well worth the trouble, and they enjoyed their secret spot every summer since.
When Kas resurfaced, he began chatting again, “Is it true that the surface mine is nearly tapped out? If so, I think you need to consider reopening the eastern shaft.”
“I could, but I would need to speak with Lorin to see what her thoughts are.” Her close friend and mine overseer would have the final say. She was the expert, Hevva funded the affair. “Did I tell you that our scouts found a kimberlite pipe up in the Dhegurs? Still in our territory, too.”
“No! That’s so exciting. I need to go see it.”
“Next summer? It’s submerged at the moment, and we need to bring in some extra watercoursers to drain while we dig.”
“Are you planning to shift focus from iron to diamonds?”
“No, I’m thinking about expanding the enterprise.”
Kas bobbed his head and tapped his nose, looking so very much like their father that Hevva burst into laughter.
“What?!”
“Nothing. It’s just, sometimes I think you should have been born first. You’d do a great job of running Kabuvirib.”
“I will eventually, once you become Duchess and I am the earl.”
“Too true. Let’s not wish that on ourselves or mother and father too quickly. Come on, let’s get back inside.”
Paddling downstream, the siblings returned to the narrow, sandy shore that marked their entrance into the rolling creek. After wrapping themselves in plush robes, they trudged back to the manor.
Kas, on his too-big-feet, stumbled over a root in the path, and Hevva followed suit. After laughing at themselves, she decided to use her earth magic to smooth the way back to Stormhill. They were quite tired.
“Have you talked to the king?” her little brother chirped.
Hevva’s pulse skyrocketed in such a burst that she started seeing stars. “Why would I talk to him?”
