Chapter 14 #2
“Got it, Princess,” Isahn replied, emphasizing her title as a legionary might say centurion. George imagined he’d have saluted her if both his hands hadn’t been occupied.
“Pay attention to our route. You’ll want to memorize these paths.”
“Will I be in here alone?”
“I expect so. As much as I’d like to keep you tucked away entirely, the opportunity for you to move like a ghost during the Great Assembly... it’s too good to pass up.”
“Excellent.” He sounded genuinely excited at the prospect of spying.
A man after my own heart.
As they moved through the dark, narrow corridor, George pointed out several important turns and doorways.
Isahn said he hoped he could catalog them all properly, or at the very least make it back to George’s apartment without dying alone in the walls.
She shoved him with her magic for that one and promised him he’d not be dying in the secret halls.
“We’re getting to the wider part between the kitchens and the main rooms. Stay close, we’ll need to be quiet soon.”
“Do people use the corridors frequently?”
George shook her head, knowing he’d see the sway of her curls in the lamplight. “Only me for the past fifteen years or more.”
“Not even the servants?” he whispered.
“No one seems to know about this, and the servants are nearly all pixies and elves. They fly near the ceilings to remain discreet while they serve people with their magic.”
“How does their magic work?”
“Shh.” George held a finger to her lips and stopped Isahn in his tracks. Standing on her toes, she whispered into his ear, “There are peepholes into the public rooms starting right up there. Leave the lantern here and be silent now. I’ll answer all your questions later.”
“All right.” Isahn’s warm lips brushed against the shell of her ear.
She nodded and pressed a firm kiss to his beautiful mouth before taking his face in her hands. “Remember, no talking. Not a peep, until I tell you.”
Isahn grinned, lamplight deepening his dimple, and he gave her a silent nod while setting the light on the floor.
When she turned to continue their excursion, he smacked her, very softly and silently, on the bottom.
At the appropriate peephole, George pressed a finger to her lips like Isahn could see her, and pulled him down to kneel at her side.
Claiming the tiny hole for herself and peering through.
Isahn’s thigh brushed her side as he moved into a more comfortable position, apparently content and hopefully listening through his water.
Along with Peros and George’s father, two aides were present, too, and George was glad Isahn couldn’t see the scene itself.
On hands and knees at the end of each lectus, a woman clad in gold held her back flat for use as a table while the men, their backs to George, chatted and occasionally set down their glasses of wine.
Their voices were hardly loud enough to hear, and she frowned as she pressed her eye against the stone.
Warmth prodded George’s hair, and she snapped her head toward Isahn, picking him out in the near blackness just as a cord of water connected to her ear, offering the chance to hear what was being said inside. She knew bringing him to Domos was a good idea.
“Ican’t fucking believe it. I knew it. I knew it,” Isahn ranted as he paced around George’s sitting room.
She should’ve sent for her friends—Hildy at least. But Isahn was frustrated, and, selfishly, she wanted some time alone with him. She’d ask Ean to invite Hildy, Dunstan, Burke, and Ceadda up for prandium the following afternoon.
While Isahn paced, George slipped away to issue her commands to the elf. When she returned, she found the lord sprawled in her most colorful armchair, his breathing ragged with frustration.
“Why is your fucking father trying to kill the Selwassan royal family!?”
George flinched.
“I’m sorry. Give me a second, please.” Isahn squeezed his eyes closed as he rubbed his temples. He breathed deeply, each inhale slower than the last.
Making her way to their untouched dessert, she selected a bottle of wine from the three options, poured two glasses, and took a seat.
She didn’t blame him for losing his temper; she knew it wasn’t directed at her. But that didn’t stop her body from reacting as though she were being screamed at directly. Isahn noticed and consciously paused to calm down before continuing.
He was too good to be true. He had to be.
She’d be riled up, too, were she in Isahn’s position. Her father and Peros spoke freely during dinner, operating under the false assumption that they were alone.
For the most part, they reminisced—her father’s version of that, anyway.
George and Isahn learned that Peros had been working for the king for over two decades.
While the Selwassan knight hadn’t been given a token to depart Hepikoru after each visit, he willingly submitted to partial memory revisions to ensure he could carry out his orders.
Shockingly, they learned that the former Prince of Selwas had also been working for George’s father many years ago, before he was caught in an attempted coup and imprisoned.
Details remained hazy; Peros and her father didn’t rehash all of the ins and outs.
However, it was fairly obvious Domos had been involved in the attempted murder of King Hethtar of Selwas.
She wasn’t certain why, but the conversation confirmed it had happened.
Apparently, a few other Selwassans were targeted too. Some successful, and some not.
George’s father had shouted at Peros for failing to properly supervise the attempts on King Hethtar, his sister, and his children. In an attempt to divert the king’s wrath, the Selwassan knight waxed on about taking down an older gentleman named Hotha Treesden.
“A drop in the bucket,” her father spat before reiterating how crucial it was that Peros not botch his mission again.
His “good-for-nothing son” lost his life for his involvement in the failed murder attempts on the royal family.
And even if he somehow escaped his containment, the former prince, Nekash, no longer remembered his involvement.
It seemed George’s father had sent a secret contingent of spies to take care of the problem before they locked him away.
Only Sir Peros Sarma remained, waltzing around Selwas as an undetected traitor—for now. They needed to gather more details and act soon before the king added to his network.
She was still trying to process everything. For example, she wasn’t aware that the King of Selwas had a sister. But her father had definitely mentioned a sister.
Isahn let out a beleaguered sigh before sipping his sweet wine. “Bleh, this is gross. Do you have anything stronger?”
“Whiskey?”
“Absolutely.”
She retrieved a decanter and glasses from the sideboard and replaced their drinks. The local liquor warmed her throat and settled into the base of her stomach, burning away some of the lingering frustrations from their hours of spying.
“This is bad,” Isahn grumbled.
“I know. We can’t write to Selwas yet, though. It’s not safe.”
“I understand. But oh my gods, Georgie. That information...” With a slow shake of his head, Isahn sank further into his chair and downed his drink. George refilled it before he launched into a story that started many years before.
He swore her to secrecy, both in her personal and political life, and she readily agreed. Some secrets were best kept as such. George drank two full glasses of whiskey to Isahn’s four while she soaked in the true story of King Hethtar’s lineage, a tale that the lord wasn’t supposed to know.
The King of Selwas’s mother had come into marriage already pregnant with the child of Hothan Tarisden.
Several years later, the Tarisden fellow was brought to Kirce Palace in Selwas’s capital to tutor the princeling, his true son.
Both Tarisden and the king were chaosweavers, which George knew was exceptionally rare, a magic only possessed by a few lineages in the world.
Apparently, Tarisden went on to have another child, a daughter.
She, the king’s half-sister, ended up becoming tutor to the young prince and princess of Selwas many years later.
“She didn’t have any idea of the connection until they told her. More importantly, everyone thinks her dad, Hothan, died in a mugging gone awry.”
“Deiwa hathemi,” George breathed.
She learned all about the attempted murder of King Hethtar, the injury to Prince Athat, and the kidnapping of Lady Nesrina Kahoth Kiappa, now Duchess of Stormhill.
The wild series of events occurred some two years prior, right around the time the delegation traveled south—when Elio saw Isahn.
Trade talks her ass, that trip had been to check on Nekash’s progress.
Isahn released a weary sigh. “Based on what I know from Kas—Lord Kahoth—the royal family never suspected anyone’s involvement beyond Prince Nekash as the mastermind. Why wouldn’t he have said something when he was caught?”
“Fear of death? My father would have him killed in an instant if he breathed a word about his involvement—and then he wiped the prince’s mind. And I agree, we have to let King Ehmet and Queen Hevva know, but we can’t tell them yet.” Frustrated, she tossed her head back and rolled her neck.
“Selwas needs to prepare its military, George.”
War. Fear coursed through her, dampening her palms. She jerked her head from side to side.
“No, no, no. My father is awful. A horrible, terrible human. But I don’t think he wants to conquer Selwas.
War would bring discomfort and hardship.
If there’s one thing he clings to, it’s his hedonism.
And he’ll be—we’ll handle it soon. It won’t be a problem. ”
Isahn swirled his drink thoughtfully. “Gods, I hope you’re right. We should bring this to your friends, see if we can’t figure out what Gasparo’s motivations might be.”
George agreed. “Tomorrow, prandium, here.”
“Do you think we could leave out the part about Nesrina? To the best of my knowledge, the family covered that up. To make the king’s illegitimacy widely known would bring political unrest to Selwas.”
“I’ve heard tales of the current king’s father, and we know more than enough about his brother. The phrase that comes to mind is ‘lesser of two evils.’ In fact, I find it hard to consider that minor deception to be evil at all when King Hethtar has been so good for your kingdom.”
Isahn’s dimple caught a shadow from the candles as he set down his glass. “As you will be to this one, my future queen.”
George’s cheeks heated, growing tight as she fought back a smile. “I need to thank you. Without your watercoursing, we wouldn’t have heard nearly as much of their conversation. You’re indispensable.”
It was Isahn’s turn to blush, his cheeks going pinker as he curled two pulsing tendrils of water toward her.
“Come here.” His command was more of a question, and George let his magic wrap around her waist, urging her to stand, twist, and sit upon his lap.
He replaced the cool water magic with his hot hands, engulfing her hips as her thighs slipped off his, going wide so she straddled him with her back against his chest.
“How are you so relaxed? I’m still so wound up after—everything!” Waving her hands around, she gestured broadly.
“Because we’re speaking with your friends tomorrow. There’s nothing more to discuss about what we overheard tonight, is there?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
She tensed, not liking his know-it-all attitude, and Isahn chuckled, his thumbs stroking lazily over her hipbones, almost encouraging her to rock atop him.
“Is this all right?” he murmured into the nape of her neck.
“Very much.” Her words rode a release of breath. “We’re too dusty from the passages.”
“Mmm,” Isahn rumbled against her back. “Let me wash you?”
“I’ll order a bath.” She tried to stand again, but he tugged her against him.
“No need for that, Georgie. I’ll use my indispensable magic.”
She whimpered her assent as he let a few droplets of hot water trickle down the crease between her breasts.
Isahn stood, scooping her into his arms and carrying her off to the guest bedroom.