Chapter 11 George and Isahn make moves.
eleven
George and Isahn make moves.
The following morning, dressed in a lavender stola, with an embroidered palla draped over her shoulders, George knew she presented better than she felt.
Her gown tickled the tops of her toes as she fixed the fibulae that kept her shawl clasped around her shoulders.
With her dangling earrings and beaded necklace, she looked powerful, bold, ready to take on the capital and all that entailed.
With a sigh, she departed her bedroom and padded down the shady open-air corridor to Isahn’s room. Without raising a hand, she knocked with her magic.
“Come in,” he boomed.
“Good morning.” George slipped inside, closing the door behind her.
“What can I do for you, Princess Georgie?” Isahn glanced over his shoulder from where he stood at the end of his bed, packing his new wardrobe in a chest she’d also procured.
Georgie. Biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth, George fought a smile. “We have a big day ahead. I thought you might have some questions after last night.” She perched upon a low stool in the corner of his room.
“How’s it all possible? How does Gasparo get away with it? I know if Peros knew about Hepikoru, there’s no world in which he’d keep his big mouth shut. I know you said they use mindmolding, but is it that successful? Are there enough powerful mages to carry it out?”
George laughed morosely. “He uses his inner circle of wards, spies, shady viceroys, and whoever else he can force to do the mindmolding. There are enough mages to carry it out. But mostly, the veil does it for us.”
He lifted his brows in surprise.
“To get in and out of the capital without having all your recent memories wiped, you have to use a token and pass through the sole gate.”
“Let me guess, there aren’t many tokens and the gate’s closely guarded?”
“You’d be correct. It’s not a physical gate either. It’s invisible, just... out there on the water. Anyone who sees a boat go through forgets immediately.” George lifted the hem of her palla and fished in the small pouch attached to her belt. Producing her token, she tossed it to Isahn.
He studied it, running his finger over the circle of raised dots on one side, turning it this way and that to study the worn star on the opposite side. “How does it work?”
As he handed it back, she trailed her fingertips over his warm skin for a blissful moment before taking her coin. “We have one each among my friends and me. As long as you’re making physical contact with it during the passage, you’ll be fine.”
“And your other friends inside? Ean and Adda?” Isahn sat back down on the foot of the bed.
“Adda—Ceadda. He’s the son of the head chef. We haven’t been able to take him out yet. Adda’s dad keeps him busy. He’s a real sweetheart.”
“Ceadda or his father?”
“Ceadda,” George replied, giving him a flat look.
Isahn’s eyes narrowed for the briefest of seconds. “Are you looking forward to seeing him again?”
“Oh, very much.” She grinned. “We’ve known each other almost as long as I’ve known Wynnie.”
Isahn hummed.
She eyed him curiously. He seemed stressed, the way he was bouncing his leg on the tiles.
“We should go to prandium and catch up with the group.” Standing from the stool she’d claimed, she glided to the door.
Isahn’s questioning side-eye was back.
“Prandium is lunch.” She laughed.
As they stood in the doorway, Wynnie popped up behind George and Isahn, nudging her way between them as she rushed in and snagged the only empty sofa.
George clenched her teeth. She should’ve moved faster. Overcome with a bout of pettiness, she hurried to join Wynnie on the lectus. She could have sworn Isahn’s lips twitched as he claimed a spot beside Hildy.
“How are we doing this?” Dunstan posed the vague question before biting into a date.
“Getting in?” George furrowed her brow.
“No, keeping him safe.” He nodded at the earl.
“He can stay with me,” Wynnie offered cheerfully.
Isahn grunted, his newly tanned face looking a bit red. Beside him, Hildy tipped her head from side to side as if considering the viability of the arrangement.
“No,” George replied curtly.
“Why not?” Wynnie ignored the obvious command. “All of you will be stuck in the palace. Isn’t my insulae in the capital safer than putting Isahn at risk of being pulled into the king’s misdeeds?”
George nearly bit through her tongue. She’d found him in Sorhaven, she’d uncovered his goodness, and he was her friend first. Not Wynnie’s.
Dunstan or Burke, she wasn’t sure who, hummed like they were considering it.
“I’ll take excellent care of him,” Wynnie purred.
Isahn’s foot whacked against the wall behind him as he jerked to the side.
Hildy gave him an odd look, Wynnie giggled demurely, and George saw red. She gritted her teeth so harshly it sent a shockwave through her jaw.
She’d suspected her friend was sending Isahn unsolicited images.
She half thought she was imagining it, but his odd reactions at the table just about confirmed it.
George wasn’t sure whether he was receptive to Wynnie’s advances.
He hadn’t acted on them yet, that was for sure.
Wynnie never kept quiet about a conquest.
Forget what she thought before; there was no way George was letting Wynnie have this one.
Even if Isahn wasn’t interested in George, even if he was interested in Wynn.
.. She couldn’t watch it happen. Life was too difficult, and she was always protecting those around her.
It was time to put her foot down, to stake her claim, to protect herself.
Chest hot and voice holding no room for argument, she proclaimed, “I said no, Wynnflaed Doukas. He’ll stay with me.”
“What about your father and his uncle?” Burke asked, gesturing with his chin at Isahn.
George glowered, and Burke tossed his hands up in surrender.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it!” he tacked on.
“My father hasn’t entered my wing once in the past decade. Why would he start now? Isahn stays with me.”
Everyone nodded, except the earl, who chewed on a piece of bread as he watched the exchange.
Keeping her expression indifferent, George urged her racing heart to slow. She wanted to look away, to avoid his blue-eyed gaze as he turned toward her, but she braved his face and found him smiling softly.
Lost in thought, trying to decipher exactly what had just happened, the end of the midday meal snuck up on Isahn.
Wynnie excused herself to finish packing her belongings, and as she flounced out, she sent Isahn what he assumed was one final mirage.
In this vision, Wynnie was clothed and waggling her fingers in farewell as she batted her lashes.
The real woman had already disappeared down the hall.
Hildy left soon after, followed by Dunstan and Burke—deep in conversation about horses.
George lay frozen on her lectus, her gaze intent on the doorway as she twisted her rings. She didn’t feel embarrassed for all but claiming him before everyone, did she? Was she worried he felt differently? Regretting her choice to have him stay in her apartment?
More uncertain than he’d felt around her in a long time—since she’d shown up as a man, in fact—he decided to break the silence. “Shall we?” Rising from his seat, Isahn offered her a hand.
Her smile was small, and her fingers lay tentatively against his large palm, but Isahn was fairly sure it wasn’t regret in her expression.
Wordlessly, he stayed by her side as they walked along the deserted, open-air corridor. Sunlight danced on the courtyard’s stones, filtering through the olive tree.
George pushed open the door to her chamber, and he froze. The desire to enter was overwhelming, but it was debatably inappropriate. She’d come into his room earlier, but she was the bloody princess.
A touch whispered over his lower back, urging him to step into the cubiculum.
Desperation claimed it was her magic beckoning him in, but the pressure was featherlight and could easily have been his imagination.
Isahn would’ve kept questioning himself if he didn’t feel it again, more insistent the second time.
Invisible fingers wrapped around his wrist while a palm pressed flat between his shoulder blades and shoved.
He stepped forward, hovering just inside the door. Typically quite forward with women, “princess” was new, palm-dampening territory.
George removed her shawl and flitted about, wrapping a pair of earrings in a bit of fabric before stuffing them inside a pouch.
The door thunked shut behind him, and he glanced over, surprised. “What?”
“Magic,” she replied.
“I thought it was only in my mind.”
“It can be.” Her dark eyes shone as she added, “But I’m the princess, Isahn. My power’s strong.”
He thought about the pressure around his wrist, and his mind drifted to images of her magic wrapped around a different appendage.
As she packed, her deceptively modest gown, an airy dyed linen, floated around her curves, tugging against her shapely thighs with each movement.
Without her colorful wrap, Isahn could now see her dress was only held up by two thin straps.
The fabric rose high up her back, tickling the escaped curls at the nape of her neck.
In the front, it dipped into a low U that highlighted her ample chest.
He had to stop staring, so he ambled around the room, pausing in front of the dresser mirror to fiddle with his out-of-control tresses. “Do you know how to cut hair?”
“No, but Hildy does. You don’t usually keep yours looking like a vagabond’s?” George didn’t look over at him, but he could tell by the set of her spine that she was teasing.
“It’s a style I was trying out, but I think I’d like to opt for a more civilized trend.” He smirked.
Her laugh was rough and sweet, like honey-roasted almonds. After packing her jewels, she moved on to the closet. “I’ll have Hildy give you a trim. Give us some time to settle back in?”
“Of course.”