Chapter 14
fourteen
George learns something new.
George readjusted the fibulae on her right shoulder as a guard rapped on her father’s tablinium door to announce her presence.
Figuring it was best to turn up before he could come looking for her, she’d left Isahn tucked away in her apartment, knowing Hildy would be stopping by soon to give him that haircut he’d asked about.
Arranging it was the least George could do for him.
“Enter,” the king intoned, his harsh voice souring her stomach before she even laid eyes on him.
He sat behind his desk with scrolls and correspondence spread before him. By his side, an aide knelt with her hands folded on her lap and her gaze trained on the tiles, though George knew she must be attending to the king’s every movement.
Father didn’t look up. That was always a sign he didn’t want to be bothered.
“Georgetta. How was the shore?”
Her stomach clenched, and that good sign burned away. She’d expected a perfunctory greeting, maybe a dismissal. Not questions.
“Refreshing.” George kept her voice light. “The weather was lovely. We stayed up between cities where it’s quiet.”
He unrolled a scroll, then set it aside and picked up another as if searching for something. She didn’t trust the mess. “Who accompanied you?”
“Hildy, Dunstan, Burke, and Wynn—”
Touch magic clasped George’s chin, forcing her face up to meet his cold gaze. “Lady Doukas? I thought she was in Nowosmont.”
Shit. “I apologize, I misspoke.” And she had, but now he was going to be suspicious. “I saw Wynnie when we returned, and we stayed at her villa before coming in.”
He tapped the edge of his desk and squeezed her jaw. “I see.”
George forced herself not to fidget. Not to show any sign of the panic creeping up her throat.
“And what did you do at this quiet shore?” her father asked.
“Relaxed. It was too cold for swimming, but the sun was nice.” She recited the vague details she’d agreed upon with her friends.
“See anyone of note?”
“No. It was quite dull, actually.” George allowed a hint of boredom into her tone as she played the spoiled princess who’d wasted weeks on a pointless holiday.
“Bring anything home?”
“No.”
Gasparo studied her for a long moment. George met his gaze, kept her expression neutral, prayed her racing heart wasn’t visible, then dropped her eyes to his hideous beard.
Finally, he waved a dismissive hand and released her face, his magic withdrawing. “I have correspondence to attend to. You’re excused.”
“Thank you.”
Forcing herself to move slowly, calmly, like she had nothing to hide, like she hadn’t followed Father’s spies into the principalities, like she hadn’t abducted a man in the name of saving Domos, like there wasn’t a handsome foreign earl in her apartment, she turned and walked to the hall.
George made it three steps down the corridor before throwing up a mirage that looked like her—but calm. Safe within her magic, her hands shook as she clutched at her stola.
He knew something was off; maybe not about Isahn, maybe not about the plan, but something. They’d have to be extremely circumspect going forward.
Knowing Isahn was busy with Hildy, George called on Dunstan to visit.
She told Ean to say it was for Domos-related discussions; in reality, she wanted to gossip, wanted a distraction from her father.
They lounged in the small sitting area beside her bed, rehashing the constant tumult that was his relationship with Hildy and apparently Burke, too.
“I don’t know if I can do it anymore, Georgie.” Typically so even-keel, Dunstan frowned, forlorn. “I feel like she doesn’t really care about me, or even Burke—and I’m not just saying that.”
“I think Hil cares very much, I just think it’s complicated. You’ve all known each other for such a long time now. Maybe it is best to let her go—in that way—and consider focusing your attention on someone new. We’ll all be friends forever.”
He sighed, so George added, “Wynnie’s single,” and winked.
Dunstan groaned as he rolled his eyes. “I’ve been there and done that. Absolutely love Wynn, she’s the sweetest thing. But, no. Not for me. Maybe Hildy’s not either.”
“Have you considered Burke?” She wiggled her brows. “I know you were intimate with Hildy together, why not alone?”
He laughed harshly. “Probably shouldn’t have done that again. But also, I don’t swing that way.”
“Wait, again?! You’ve been with Hil and Burke together before? And no one told me?!” she shrieked.
Dunstan’s laugh turned into a choked gurgle as the door to George’s room popped open.
Isahn stuck his head in, and the very first thing she noticed was how handsome he looked and how much of his face she could see.
Where his golden locks once fell past his shoulders, they now ended just above his jaw.
“I’m all done.” He beamed, running a hand through his hair to sweep it back from his face.
“Is she gone?” Dunstan whispered.
Isahn nodded, his eyes never leaving George.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
With a shake of his head that sent his locs swaying, Dunstan stood from the sofa. “You two. I’m out of here. See you at cena? My apartment tonight.” He crossed to the door.
“Wait, don’t open that until Isahn’s hidden.”
“See you tonight, man.” Isahn waved before ducking back into the sitting room and closing it tight.
After Dunstan left, George readjusted the shoulders of her stola, tugging the front down, just so, before fluffing her hair.
Sometimes the temptation to give herself a miraged style crept in, but unless it was necessary, she pushed the urge away.
It split her focus, tired her out after long enough, and really—shockingly—she didn’t think it was necessary.
Isahn seemed to like her for who she was, flaws and all.
A minuscule rap on the hall door let her know she had a fae visitor. She opened it a crack, and Ean zipped in before she’d even extended an invitation.
Impertinent little brat.
“P Georgie!”
“Told you not to call me that.”
“Ach, whatever ye say, Princess.” He stretched his plump lips into a wide smile and rumpled his dark curls before zooming across the room to perch on the edge of her dresser.
Adorable little scamp.
“The guests are arriving for the Great Assembly.”
“Already?” That was curious; the viceroys wouldn’t typically show for another few days, not wanting to be in the palace any longer than was strictly necessary.
“One guest at least, a Sir Sarma an—”
Something thunked against the door to George’s sitting room and she chuckled. “You can come in, Isahn. It’s safe.”
He popped in, smiling when he saw Eanraig. “I thought it was you.”
“Did you eavesdrop sufficiently?” George teased, elbowing him in the side.
“I did. My uncle’s here?” His voice was solemn.
She nodded, looking equally serious.
“Sir Sarma was brought in by the king’s men with a pendant.”
“Now we know his status a bit better.” George pursed her lips. Peros hadn’t come enslaved, but whether he’d leave with his memory was still up for question. “Do you know where he’s staying?”
Eanraig shook his head. “Not yet, but I’ll ken before cena.”
“Good.”
Isahn’s palm found its way to George’s hip, and he gave her a squeeze as he eyed Ean, probably hoping for more information.
“I heard yer da is dining with him alone tonight.”
“Interesting.” George massaged her chin as she thought. “Would you do a few things for me?”
“Of course.” He grinned.
“Tell Dunstan that Isahn and I need to miss the meal, but if anyone asks, I was with him. Send food up when you have a chance, too.”
“To yer sitting room?”
“Please. And find out which rooms Peros Sarma has been assigned to.”
“I’m on it. Glad yer back.” Ean gave Isahn a chance to tuck himself away, then he zipped out into the palace.
A few minutes later, Isahn traced lazy circles over her exposed kneecap as they sat side by side upon two poufs on her sitting room floor. “Does this mean we’re eating here? Hiding away forever?”
“Yes to food, and sadly, no to hiding away forever. Another hour, perhaps? Enough time to eat, and then we’ll be off.”
“Off where? Oh!” Isahn startled as several loaded platters appeared before them.
George chuckled at his wide-eyed surprise.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”
“Help yourself.” She popped an olive into her mouth and considered just how much easier the task ahead felt with him at her side. It was ridiculous, the amount of peace he brought to her life.
Eventually, George answered his original question, “We’re off to spy on your uncle and my father, of course.”
In her sitting room, George pulled her macrame wall hanging to the side, and Isahn’s mouth dropped open when she clicked open the panel concealed behind the art.
“Fantastic.”
“It’s helpful. Come on.” Lacing their fingers together, she led him down a short, dark corridor, ending in a door, to which only she had the key.
“Where are we going?”
The lantern she’d instructed him to hold swayed behind her head, casting wild shadows on the hall ahead. “Into the walls.”
“Unbelievable,” he murmured, and she grinned into the gloom.
Her father’s paranoia was the original reason George had been moved from the palace proper into the lone apartment over the western wing many years before.
His insistence on keeping her safe backfired spectacularly, and he’d yet to realize it.
With her secret passage access and outdoor entrance, she could, for all intents and purposes, come and go as she pleased without the main palace being any the wiser.
“This is the only way into my apartment that isn’t through the corridor or the tower stairs that lead outside,” she whispered as she dragged Isahn through the door, their fingers interlocked.
He nodded, shadows dancing over his angular face in the glow of his oil lamp.
“Follow me and stay close. We can talk a bit longer. I’ll warn you when we need to be silent.”