Chapter 7 George makes a friend. #2
“That’s terrible.”
“It is. It truly is.” The room wobbled before her as George thought of all those poor souls stuck inside the city at the whims of the king and his comrades.
She blinked as she swallowed loudly. “Nearly all the staff are enslaved. He keeps wards from the nobility to keep their families in line even while they’re not in the capital.
And he keeps... aides as well. People forced into service, personal assistants.
If you ever have the unfortunate experience of speaking with my father, don’t believe a word he says.
All of the wards, all of the aides, most of the viceroys even—they’re not willingly employed by the palace or elsewhere in the city. ”
“What about you and your friends?”
“It’s complicated.”
He nodded, mouth drooping as he stared down into the pool.
“You’ll see the dynamics firsthand when—” She cut herself off, unsure if she should presume he’d join them, unsure he’d want to stay with this new knowledge dumped in his lap.
If he wanted to return home, he could. They’d.
.. reset his memories. George fought a frown as she considered having to mindmold this man.
She supposed she deserved it for abducting him in the first place.
“The viceroys and their families live all across the land, of course.”
Hildy cleared her throat before jumping in, giving George a break, “Every spring, the viceroys have to go to the capital for the Great Assembly. They’re forced to attend. For four weeks, everyone has to stay within the palace doing whatever weird shit the king thinks up.”
Isahn’s brows pleated.
George sighed heavily. “I don’t want you to see, but you’ll see if...” She froze on the same thought again. “We call it ‘blackmail season.’”
“Oh.”
Hildy continued, “He uses the power of his loyal retainers and his wards to... make people do dehumanizing things. During the Great Assembly, he likes to blur the lines between roles because, whether enslaved or noble, everyone answers to Gasparo. After, usually, their minds are wiped of that time, except for key points he wants them to remember.”
George spun a large amethyst ring on her right hand. The rotation relaxed her. “Some of the viceroys embrace it, but many find it bizarre and distasteful.”
“Do you think my uncle will be at this Great Assembly? Is it soon?”
“I think it’s likely. My father brings in spies and his other ‘friends’ constantly. He has to collect his fodder. And he’s been up to something these past few years. We’re trying to figure out what.”
“Before you... do the thing?” he checked, his gaze floating around from George to Hildy to Greta, who hummed to herself while she rubbed her belly.
“Yes. We can’t act until we have a firm grasp on his current undertaking. He’s been pulling in spies from each kingdom—”
“Even Karova?” Isahn asked.
“I think so,” George replied. “Ean, my—my assistant—learns what he can and reports back.”
“Adda helps too,” Hildy offered, “and Wynnie.”
Catching sight of Isahn’s unfocused gaze, George’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
His head snapped up, and he turned to face her, almost lifting his legs up to the bench, then freezing and pressing his thighs together. His lips quirked. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m sorry, too, for everyone who’s living their life under King Gasparo’s thumb.”
Hildy’s face was neutral aside from the lightest lift to the corner of her mouth.
“My uncle is one of your father’s spies.”
“Or one of his friends,” Hil said.
“It appears they have a relationship of some sort. That being said, what would you like to do?” George asked, fully recognizing how risky it was to ask him this in front of an audience and without speaking with her friends.
But Hildy caught her gaze and dipped her chin. “Would you like to join the cause?”
Isahn rolled his neck, pausing halfway through to look up at the skylights.
“Peros may not be out to kill me and his sister like we thought. Maybe he still is; I don’t know.
But I do know I want to help. I want to figure out what Peros is doing and stop him.
And if it helps right other wrongs in the process, all the better. ”
When George walked into the triclinium that evening, she found her friends deep in conversation with the earl. Hildy lay between Dunstan and Burke on the right-hand lectus, grinning and waving her over.
Whatever she’d missed had clearly been enough for everyone to determine Isahn was who he said he was. Maybe Hildy spread word of her trust while George was getting dressed. Perhaps they didn’t trust him in full, but enough to relax and enjoy the meal.
Isahn’s face lit up when he saw her, and she hoped it was a genuine reaction, not just a man hoping to stay in his captor’s good graces. When he patted the empty spot beside him on the central seat, she fought a smile and crossed the room, her flowy white dress whispering in her wake.
She’d dressed up a bit more than usual, but she was the fucking princess. They’d assume she’d done it to make a point to the earl.
And she had... but a different one than they were likely to suspect.
Her sleeveless stola dipped into a low V before falling in pleats and waves to the floor, and she’d accessorized with a golden belt, a few rings, and a pair of large gold earrings, bejeweled with turquoise and dangling past her jaw.
George also made the last-minute decision to leave her still-damp hair unbound and falling down her back.
She regretted it. It was soaking her dress, uncomfortably so.
“Isahn was just telling us how he left his sister in charge of the earldom while he’s away, did you know that?” Hildy asked with a wink.
George did not know that. It was likely part of why they’d decided to embrace his presence. Gods, if she didn’t respect it too.
Her father would never consider leaving the kingdom in her hands in his absence, let alone any other woman.
Power rested with men in Domos and had for generations.
There weren’t even female viceroys anymore.
There had been, hundreds of years before.
That faded with time and a string of misogynistic tyrants, culminating in her father’s horrid reign.
Loath to pass his crown to a daughter, he made sure she knew it.
He viewed women as nothing more than background decorations or the objects of his fleeting attention.
“Gustatio will be in shortly,” Elio announced, entering the chamber and joining his wife on her lectus.
“What does that mean?” Isahn whispered.
“Gustatio is the pre-meal course. Appetizers?” George offered, absentmindedly twisting her still-wet hair into a long coil down her back.
“I can dry that for you,” Isahn murmured for her ears alone. “I meant to do it earlier. I’m sorry.”
“Please,” she replied softly. Elemental magic really was something else.
She tried not to study him too closely as he helped, but he’d cleaned up nicely.
It looked as though he’d borrowed a tunic from Burke, who was about the same width, if smaller in stature.
The azure shirt complemented the earl’s sky blue eyes.
She sighed at the confusion of feelings tumbling within her.
Isahn’s magic tickled her scalp as he drew the droplets from her curls.
She could feel the weight coming off of her heavy hair as the coils sprang up into place to brush the tops of her shoulders rather than the bottoms of her shoulder blades.
Isahn even pulled the dampness from the back of her dress before he sent a small orb of water across the room to plop, rather helpfully, into a thirsty-looking potted palm.
In the intimacy of the moment, George didn’t notice the room grow silent. But when the water splatted into the pot, someone clapped.
“I’m going to have to see that again,” Hildy gushed.
“That’s so neat.” Burke chuckled.
Waving a hand, Isahn’s cheeks reddened adorably. “Please, it’s nothing. I’m just a watercourser.”
“Are you a powerful one? Weak? Middling? What? I haven’t met any elementals.”
“Questions, Burke,” Hildy chided.
“It’s fine.” Isahn spoke through a smile. “I’m, uh, one of the more powerful water mages I’ve met.”
Everyone nodded, finding that easy enough to believe. It wasn’t like they had much to go on, but the darkening color of his face told her he was embarrassed from the attention. She didn’t think he was lying.
A tiny part of her still expected replies to her identity-verification missives saying she was off her rocker and no such lord existed. But it would be a few days before the other shoe would have the opportunity to drop, and George increasingly suspected it wasn’t coming.
Isahn continued, “Over the years, I think most of the noble families in Selwas became the most powerful ones. Or maybe it was the other way around.”
Hildy and George hummed their assent, then caught each other’s gaze and laughed.
“It’s the same in Domos,” Burke replied. “How else do you think I came to be friends with Princess Georgie?”
“Maybe because she rescued you from a life of poverty on the docks,” Hildy jabbed, then sniffed the air and frowned, pushing at Burke’s chest. “Oh, rude.”
“A treat for you, for those lies. I’m plenty powerful.”
She must’ve said something back with her magic because Burke rolled his eyes, then trailed his fingers down Hildy’s arm. Oddly, Dunstan didn’t so much as stiffen. He just moved his hand closer to her and caressed her thigh.
Beside George, Isahn made a small sound of surprise.
“Don’t ask, because I don’t know,” she mumbled.
He chuckled.
Dinner went on in the same fashion for several enjoyable hours, with everyone trading stories around the room.
George translated the occasional term for Isahn, like dolmades.
She explained that they were stuffed grape leaves, filled with rice, nuts, and herbs, before popping one directly into his mouth.
She hadn’t considered what she was doing before her hand was on the move. Luckily, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he bit into the food.
After dinner they lay around enjoying comissatio, a final selection of fine wines and whiskeys, all produced at Villa Manolay. George sighed heavily into her liquor as she decided, at long last, that it was time to get their group back on the road. It was time to go home.
“We need to discuss our next steps.” She looked to Elio and Greta, adding, “Your hospitality has been unmatched, as always, but it’s time for us to go.”
“So soon?” Burke bemoaned.
“Yes, so soon.” George sighed. “We’ve got to get back to the palace.”
“Can’t we stay a bit longer? Few days?” Burke asked.
“It would be lovely if you could. We’ve missed you so.”
Elio nodded at his wife’s words.
“No. We have to get back ahead of Gianis and Marinos. We have to be there—because of things,” George huffed and took a long sip of her whiskey.
“Becot?” Burke asked Dunstan, stretching his neck over the top of Hildy’s head.
Dunstan shrugged. “Becot.”
“Oh!” Isahn startled.
George’s attention snapped to the earl, whose shoulders shook with laughter.
“It’s a half-abbreviation, half-acronym.” He chortled.
“What is?” Greta asked, confused.
“Becot, beciss, depends on what she says.” He pointed his thumb in George’s direction. “Not how I thought it was spelled at all.”
“Deiwa nekami,” George grumbled, wishing the goddess would, in fact, pop down and take her away. Why’d he have to be sharp too?
“Because I said so,” Burke mimicked her in a high tone.
“Very astute, Lord Yaranbur,” Hildy complimented with a grin as she lifted her glass.
“Oh, I get it. I always wondered about that.” Elio chortled, leaning in to whisper a better explanation to his wife.
“I hate every single one of you. Shut up.”
“Why?” Burke asked with a waggle of his brows.
George closed her eyes and shook her head as she breathed through her nose. Then, she gave the people what they wanted: “Because I said so!”
“Beciss!” they chorused.