Chapter 12
twelve
Isahn gets scared.
“Are you doing all right?” George asked softly as she leaned in, her palm pressed firmly to Isahn’s forearm.
“I am. Are we through yet?”
She shook her head. “Just a few moments and we’ll pass through the gate.”
The world looked strange and hazy as he stood on the deck of the actuaria, the small vessel ferrying their group from Nowosmont into Hepikoru.
Part of him had still wondered if his new Domossan friends were pulling a very elaborate prank.
A whole hidden city? Fae? It was several minutes in that he’d decided they were, in fact, telling the truth.
The rowed boat sped across the placid water, heading directly for the mountain face that dropped off into the deep lake.
Isahn was positive they were going to crash.
His bound hands were tense where he gripped the vessel’s railing.
But George only laughed, her rasping chuckles relaxing him when, instead of smashing into stone at thirty knots, they passed through.
Either the whole group had upped their illusions overnight, or this was reality.
A misty haze shrouded them as the actuaria moved through the illusion of the enormous mountain. Birdsong was absent here, and only the beating of his own heart and the plop and swish of the rower’s oars broke the silence.
“Here we go,” George whispered as the deep gray cloudiness of the atmosphere shifted rapidly.
A strange tug pulled on his stomach, and his brain did a little somersault as they cleared the illusion.
He blinked at George, disoriented and finding sure footing in her gaze.
“Look back,” she encouraged as she removed her hand from his arm and pocketed the token they’d shared to get through.
“Won’t they notice if we’re being too friendly?” he murmured, trying not to let his body language show that he was in conversation with the princess.
“We’re covered. I threw up a mirage. If the captain or rowers look at us, they’ll see me transporting my aide. You’re actually passed out on the deck, you know, since the veil erased your memories. I’m sitting on your chest.”
His lips quivered. “You are not.”
“Mirage-me sure is.” George grinned. “Now turn around and look behind us. In fact—” She took his hands and focused on unbinding his wrists.
“Thanks,” he murmured before turning to see the New Mountains from the inside. He gasped. “Oh, wow. Woah.”
There were no New Mountains. The view to the other side of the lake was crystal clear, all the way back to Nowosmont with its many colored homes packed into the tan and green countryside.
George finished freeing his hands, then clasped one between her smooth palms. “Isahn?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Coming along.” Her shoulders drooped. “I know we abducted you... and I know you say you want to stay, but if you change your mind at any point, you have to tell me. I’ll— We’ll let you go.”
“I don’t want to.” He covered her fingers with his second hand, squeezing tightly.
Her exhale was long and slow. “Thank you for pretending to be an aide. It won’t be much longer.”
He nodded, before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“Turn around, you haven’t even looked at the city yet.”
George nudged him in a circle with her magic, but he would’ve obliged either way. The true capital was magnificent, built into the side of Deiwomont, the ancient mountain thought to have been destroyed when the New Mountains erupted from the earth.
Isahn’s gaze bounced along the bevy of white-washed structures gleaming in the sunlight.
Cascading down the hillside in tiers, each layer of buildings cut a jagged line across the mountainside.
The wash of white was broken only by blue rooftops and lush greenery dotting the balconies.
At the summit, overlooking the town, the palace stood: its domes, towers, and turrets reaching toward the sky.
The effect was gorgeous, a pile of pearls atop the cobalt cloth of the lake.
“Gods, what a beautiful place.”
“I know.” George sighed, and Isahn could hear sadness dragging down her voice. “I want to share it with the world.”
“But you have to free it first?” he whispered.
She nodded solemnly.
“I’ll— What the fuck was that!?” Isahn startled, pointing at the open air.
“What did you see?” George chuckled, following his gaze.
“There!” An enormous golden bug zipped by, disappearing somewhere toward the back of the ship. Was it a bird? It was too fast, he couldn’t tell.
“That, my dear lord, is a faerie.” George beamed up at him.
“They’re fucking tiny.”
“Mhm.”
They disembarked not long after, the scent of sunbaked fish wafting in the air, welcoming them back to land.
Isahn stood on the wooden dock, fighting the urge to faint from smell and shock.
The same golden-winged faerie who’d zipped past the boat returned, buzzing to a stop before the princess.
He couldn’t have been more than one foot tall—a boy, really—with unruly black hair, and a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“P Georgie!” he greeted, hovering some five feet in the air.
Isahn’s tongue moved awkwardly in his mouth as he tried to determine how the tiny faerie managed to roll his “r” so quickly.
She laughed. “How many times have I told you not to call me that, Ean?”
Isahn fought to keep his mouth shut as he realized this was her assistant, the one whose life she’d saved. He’d been picturing the boy on two feet the entire time... not one foot tall and flying.
“Sorry, Princess.” Ean flapped his feathered wings a moment longer before settling on George’s stack of luggage.
He had an odd sort of brogue, an accent Isahn had never heard before.
Every R was slightly rolled, and his vowels seemed to have been tossed in a bowl and mixed up.
“Who’s yer new friend? Will ye introduce me? ”
A pair of wealthy-looking men wearing a tunic like Isahn’s, without pants—unlike Isahn—and sandals laced up to their knees sauntered up the dock to board the actuaria for its return trip to the—other capital.
Princess George flicked her eyes almost imperceptibly at the two passing men.
An apologetic look flitted across her face before she barked at her fae attendant, “Send our belongings to the palace, immediately. See that my father’s notified I’ve returned.
Tell him I’m travel-weary and will visit in the morning.
” With her voice lowered to a whisper, she added, “Meet in my apartment when you’re done. ”
“Aye, Princess!” The boy matched the official tone of her commands. “Right away, Yer Royal Highness.”
Their luggage, all of it, disappeared, one box after the other vanishing in a soft tinkle.
Isahn side-eyed George, and she tossed her head back and laughed.
Burke offered to carry him, if he was feeling woozy from all the excitement.
He waved off the teasing, but it wasn’t far from the truth.
Where Nowosmont was full of colorful homes and people wearing simple white and pastel clothing, Hepikoru was the opposite. The people and fae moved from place to place, bright spots of color in dyed fabrics, with vibrant wings—those who had them—all set against the placid, white stone buildings.
Gods, faeries. Fucking faeries. Tiny things with little wings and vanishing magic.
Swallowing hard, Isahn vowed not to let the vibrance fool him into complacency.
Looking closer, he spied the consternation on the tiny faces of two fae speaking in hushed tones outside a bakery window.
One pointed inside, and the other shook their blue-haired head.
On the street, a man passed with two mages in tow, another man and a woman, both wearing short gold tunics, following like lost dogs.
He tried to side-eye George, but her chin was held high and her gaze trained straight ahead.
“You doing all right?” Hildy shoved Isahn playfully on the arm as they walked through the steep and narrow streets of the town.
“You’re looking a little...” Burke widened his eyes into two dinner platters, mocking him.
Isahn chuckled. Again, the jokester wasn’t far from the truth. He was in a godsdamned daze.
They passed some sort of grocers, and inside, through the glass, he could make out rows upon rows of little faeries, their expressions flat as they filled small baskets with smaller berries, pulled from thin air, in a never-ending cycle.
A woman wearing a flowing red dress, arm full of bangles, pushed into the shop, and the faeries buzzed away, zipping up and out of sight.
Isahn sighed, unable to avoid the reason he’d been compelled to come help. Everyone deserved freedom.
“I’m letting the mirage go now. If anyone asks, he’s my aide.” George spoke flatly, though her chest rose and fell with the exertion of her prolonged magic use as they entered a finer district of the town.
On their ride to the docks in Nowosmont, Isahn and George had discussed how things would go in great detail. He’d be playing the role of a deeply indebted citizen from Lapisium, transported into Hepikoru to join the palace as a servant to the princess until his debt was repaid.
Isahn would play dumb if needed, pretending the veil worked its magic on him. He’d been told the enslaved who were brought through using the no-token method often became compliant as a result of their confusion. Being shackled was no longer a necessity.
Personally speaking, Isahn had no qualms about serving the princess, but the fact that hundreds were forced into the role turned his stomach.
A purple-haired, purple-winged faerie, and another with short silvery-white hair and bronze wings, zipped past. They were no larger than his forearm. A pale haze of gold seemed to float from the purple one, leaving a shimmering wake rolling through the air as she buzzed by. Isahn blinked.
“This is insane,” was all he could manage.
“This’ll be your room.” George looked back at Isahn as she pushed open a door off her sitting room.