Chapter 12 #2
He followed her into the guest bedroom, maneuvering his chest of belongings as he sidestepped over the threshold.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“After the boat?”
She peered up at him. “And everything else.”
He nodded, readjusting his belongings in his arms. “It was sad to see the enslaved people on the way up here, and I know you said everyone in the palace is essentially in bondage to Gasparo, even if they’re ostensibly free. But it’s beautiful here, too.”
He looked around, appreciating his guest room, reflecting on this change in his circumstances.
At his side, George nodded. “What do you think of your room?”
“I think it’s gorgeous, just like you.”
Her touch magic jabbed his shoulder, and he chuckled.
“Where should I put this?” Isahn hoisted his luggage a few inches.
“Closet.” She hurried ahead to swing open the door to a spacious walk-in that he wouldn’t even come close to filling with his meager wardrobe.
They stood back in the bedroom, and he took a moment to consider the decor so he could answer her question in earnest. It was a well-appointed space, with a large bed to his left and a desk to his right. A plush turquoise sofa nestled in a nook across the room.
Like her gorgeous, cacophonous sitting room full of poufs and wall hangings and endless sculptures and vases, this chamber was also expertly designed.
The ceiling had even been adorned with delicate gold-painted constellations.
Everything had texture and depth, from the thick, colorful duvet on the bed to the overlapping rugs on the tiled floor.
“I absolutely love it,” he said sincerely.
“You do?”
When he looked over at the princess, he found her peering back from the corner of her eye. Her gaze flicked around, and he realized the designs were her doing. “Did you decorate the apartment yourself? May I have a full tour?”
Her smile sparkled, and Isahn almost considered retracting his suggestion and requesting a tour of the bedsheets instead.
“Yes, and of course! Come on.” George grabbed Isahn’s hand and dragged him back through the sitting room—tablinium, whatever it was called in Domos—into a short corridor.
They passed through a reading nook with a side door leading onto a balcony but proceeded past, into her small dining chamber.
The long table surrounded by straight-backed chairs was almost Selwassan, reminding him of home.
The ceiling in this room was also decorated with the skies.
She had a thing for the great beyond, apparently.
“Don’t go onto the balcony or through that door, ever. Not without me.” George pointed to a narrow carved panel at the end of the room.
“Leads into the palace?” he assumed.
“Yes. Would you like to see my room?”
Of course he wanted to see her room. Isahn wanted to see how she’d decorated; he wanted to know everything about her. She floated back through the sitting room and through the final doorway, him following like a dog on her heels.
Again, he was assaulted by color. This room was perfect. Another gorgeous ceiling, painted with hazy clouds and sparkling stars, reminded him of the space mirage she was so fond of. A sunshine yellow desk stood out amongst the other furniture, all blue and white.
“This is amazing, George. Your taste is amazing.”
“Are you teasing me? I know it’s a little...” she trailed off as she came to stand in front of Isahn to peer into his eyes.
“Wild? Exuberant? Outlandish? Colorful? I can keep going.”
“Oh, please do.” Reaching forward, she placed a palm on his forearm, and gooseflesh erupted over his skin.
“I’ve never seen functional furniture and art combined so skillfully. The colors, the textures, the patterns. Is the rest of the palace like this?”
She shook her head. “Just here. It’s my escape.”
“It feels like a home, and given all you’ve told me, that’s a feat in itself. The character in every detail is... it’s astonishing, Georgie.” Just like you, he wanted to add. But he didn’t want to scare her off so early on.
Her cheeks turned ruddy at his compliments, and he nearly leaned in to kiss her. But, gods, he needed to bathe.
“Is there a washroom I can use?” he asked.
“Oh, of course. I didn’t even show you yours, come.” George dragged him across the tablinium, back to his room.
His bathing chamber featured an enormous tub and a unique sink made from a wild-edged slab of wood, its bowl carved from a sparkly gray stone. The wallpaper, green leaves and colorful birds, matched the natural design.
“No baths like at the villas?”
“There are, but I refuse to use them here at the palace. I’m not sure I trust the water...”
Isahn chuckled.
“If you hold tight, I’ll have Eanraig send up a bath.”
“Yehn-ric?” Isahn tested out the young faerie’s name on his tongue, trying to roll the R as George had done.
“Close enough. You can always call him Ean.” She gestured to the basin and basket beside it. “Use anything you want. When you’re done, come find me. I’m going to do the same as you. I’ll be in the sitting room or my chamber when I’m clean.” George winked, the washroom door closed, and she was gone.
Isahn stood in silence for a few minutes, half staring at himself in the mirror, half unfocused as his mind whirled. The past few weeks had been insane—which was swiftly becoming his favorite word.
An enormous splash cut through the silence, like someone had dumped out a whole trough of water. Spinning, he found the tub steaming and full.
Fucking faeries. It was similar to watercoursing, but the thing simply filled all at once instead of pushing in through taps. Astonishing magic.
Based on the way their heavy boxes had been perfectly stacked in George’s sitting area—by a one-foot-tall child—Isahn assumed fae magic included the ability to transport physical items from place to place.
He’d have to ask George for more information.
A whole series of questions grew in his mind as he stripped off his trousers and divested himself of his linen tunic.
Do all fae have the same magic? How are pixies and elves different? What can they do? How many are there?
Gods, he’d need to start taking notes so he could report back to his bookish best friend.
.. once George was queen and those things could be shared.
The more time he spent with her, the more certain he became that she should lead Domos, that she would lead Domos soon, and that she’d do a bang-up job of it, too.
Determined to hurry up and get clean so he could spend some alone time with the princess, Isahn stepped into the tub sideways while fumbling for a bar of soap in the basket on the window ledge. Something rough and scratchy latched onto his finger, and he screamed.