Chapter 5
five
George and Isahn go rogue.
George followed Hildy to her cubiculum and plopped down on the bed as Hil changed for an evening on the town.
“Do you want to borrow one of my dresses?” George asked.
Hildy sneered. “You think I need it to get laid?”
“Oh, I know you don’t.” Laughter bubbled up from her tired chest. “Jewelry?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Hil shrugged. “None of your gigantic earrings though, I don’t need more of a headache than Dunstan and Burke already give me.”
George grinned and shook her head. “Will one of them be getting lucky tonight?” The boys might give Hildy a headache, but the volatile situation was undeniably of her own making.
“Eh, maybe. They’re not on my good side at the moment.”
“Neither one?”
“Mm.” Hildy’s response was non-committal as she selected a pair of golden studs from George’s collection and pushed them through the holes in her ears. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“Positive.”
“Business to attend to?” Hil checked, fluffing her curls.
“Perhaps I just want to keep an eye on our prisoner.”
“An eye, huh?”
“Shut up.” George laughed.
When Hildy was ready, George accompanied her to the tablinium where Dunstan and Burke were already waiting to go.
Pacing, George circled the low table for a third time before she announced, “I want to have another go at the captive.”
Hildy barked a laugh.
“What happened to being hesitant about torture?” Burke snorted.
“I’ll combine my touch and sight. He won’t even know what hit him.” Spinning to face her friends who sat in a neat line along the wall, she shrugged. “I’m not going to be cruel.”
George was determined to get some answers before they had to move on and call on the help of her sultriest friend, so she’d channel Wynnie herself.
She’d dabbled in trying to weaponize her feminine wiles before, but her impact was never quite the same as Wynn’s intrigue and machinations.
Still, this was as good a chance as any for George to see if she could figure out what it was that made Wynnie so desirable. She’d love to harness that confidence.
Hildy smirked, a knowing gleam in her eye. “That’s a terrible idea. Don’t do it.”
Dunstan reiterated Hil’s point, but in a far more serious tone.
“Don’t do what?” Elio asked as he and Greta sauntered into the sitting room. Stopping near the door, Elio moved behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her belly and relieving some of the weight. Greta sighed and leaned back against him, a blissful smile softening her features.
“Our beloved Georgie wants to out herself as a dual mage and question the prisoner alone,” Hildy offered with a flourish of her hand.
“We don’t think it’s smart.” Dunstan pointed at himself, Burke, and Hildy.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Elio stopped them. “We don’t want to know about this at all.”
“Are you sure he can’t hear us?” Burke checked. “This would be a very damning conversation.”
“He’s beneath the wine cellar,” Greta said. “Your friend, who we know nothing about, won’t hear anything.”
“Georgetta,” Elio began.
“George, please. No one good calls me Georgetta, you know this.” Finally, she stopped pacing and took a seat opposite her friends before turning her attention back to the viceroy and his wife.
She’d known Elio for years, before he had his title, since he was a ward of her father’s.
Lord Neninios had been forced to take part in wiping the minds of the unsuspecting lords, ladies, and other viceroys at court.
Her heart tensed at the thought of having to return, and no small part of her wanted to remain at Villa Manolay forever.
“George,” Elio restarted, “you know we’re firmly on your side regarding any and all matters of the kingdom. Find out what you can. Do what you can, and we’ll support you in every way possible.”
“Just don’t do it alone,” Greta added.
“Exactly.” Dunstan crossed his arms, popping his pecs.
“I know, thank you.” George ignored him and smiled gratefully at Elio and Greta. She appreciated their support in a way that could never be fully expressed. They understood the horrors of court, and they’d gotten away—for the most part. She’d make sure they never had to return.
“Stay on this level while we’re out.” Dunstan jabbed his finger in George’s direction as they left the room.
Standing, she moved to the wide, arched doorway to watch her friends’ departure.
“We’ll be back late, don’t wait up for us!” Greta called as she supported her growing bump with one hand and waved goodbye with the other.
Dunstan and Burke positioned themselves on either side of Hildy, jostling her as they jockeyed for attention.
When they were nearly across the courtyard, Hildy looked over her shoulder and winked. “Don’t do anything too reckless.” Her voice floated over on a whisper of magic, and George knew the words were for her alone.
Isahn paced, wishing someone would visit so he could take a piss.
With one ankle chained to the wall and both hands shackled behind his back, getting his dick in-hand without using his magic was quite the challenge.
He really didn’t want to get caught with his pants down and a cord of water curled around his cock.
At least he had some freedom of movement, even if he could only make an arc around the back end of the chamber.
His trousers and tunic were beyond filthy, his jacket long gone.
Isahn itched to clean up. He could be fresh and dry inside five minutes, but he wasn’t ready to reveal his watercoursing yet.
Despite the princess being among their ranks, his captors weren’t the most elite force, but they would notice if their ripe, dirt-covered prisoner had a bath they hadn’t offered.
The scratch and clunk of a key in the lock warned Isahn he was about to have a visitor.
Sure enough, the cell door swung open, and the dark-skinned guard with wild, white hair walked in—the woman who’d questioned him in Sorhaven.
Immediately on high alert, he tracked her path to one of the corners he couldn’t reach.
Stoic and unblinking, she stared back at him.
A second woman waltzed through the door, a blonde with blue eyes and pale skin who looked a bit like Solaelia. The belt on her red robe swung as she slammed the swollen wood and iron door behind her with a resounding thunk.
The delicious scent of rose and patchouli flitted over to Isahn. It came from the second woman, not the first. And both, he was fairly certain, were George.
Sticking close to the wall he couldn’t reach, the pale guard walked its length and lit a few oil lamps, basking the depressing cell in an out-of-place, cozy light. When she was done, she set her candle on a shelf by the door and claimed the corner opposite the immobile guard.
The bronze-skinned George glowered at Isahn when he met her eye, so he turned his attention back to blonde George, whose golden curls cascaded over her shoulders, bobbing as she looked him up and down.
Isahn was fairly certain George looked nothing like either of the women standing before him.
He was also pretty sure the unblinking guard was a full-blown mirage, not human in any real way.
To verify his suspicion, he sent an invisible puff of vapor toward her.
It whooshed through her body. He didn’t risk glancing in that direction, just in case his magic had somehow disturbed the illusion of the second person.
Blonde-George didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, so he relaxed.
As their silent staring war raged on, curiosity got the better of Isahn, and he walked toward the pale guard.
His chain dragged obnoxiously on the stone floor until it pulled taut when he was a few feet away.
With hands cuffed behind his back, his stance probably appeared more confident than he felt, but that wasn’t a bad thing.
It’s how he’d approach if he wasn’t shackled—and it brought a bit of normalcy to his horrible situation.
He studied Princess Georgetta, blonde edition, with unveiled interest. Everyone else from Domos had skin that ranged from taupe to a deep, rich brown, and every other Domossan he’d met had dark eyes and hair, too.
He’d heard that some folks from Gramenia and Domos had skin the color of onyx, and that the rarest of the rare Karovians had a purple tint to their black hair, but he’d never met anyone that richly toned himself.
Either way, the blonde guard looked like a bloody Selwassan, and that couldn’t be right.
George studied him, running her gaze from the top of his light brown hair to the tips of his dust-covered riding boots.
The damned guards had scrubbed him so thoroughly back in Sorhaven, the walnut husk coloring his tresses had faded substantially.
George had no idea who he was either way, but if Isahn didn’t darken his hair again soon, he’d risk Peros recognizing him, should they cross paths.
Feeling slightly cocky, he rocked on his heels while the princess looked him over. Neither of the Georges in the room had spoken yet—he didn’t even think the white-haired one could talk—so he waited for the true George to break the silence as he wondered about her real appearance.
He must have seen a portrait of her at some point in his life.
There had to be one hanging at Kirce Palace in Selwas, right?
Despite having visited on a number of occasions, the recesses of his memories came up empty.
So, he moved on to a crude attempt at logic.
Princess George didn’t seem as cruel as rumor claimed; the cart ride east had proven that to him.
If exaggeration was at play, did that also mean she was less beautiful than the gossip said?
They both decided to break the silence.
“What—”
“Do you—” George pressed her lips together and glowered at Isahn.
“Ladies first.” He inclined his head politely.
A single blonde eyebrow popped on George’s most-likely-miraged forehead. “Do you intend to be more cooperative this evening?”