Chapter 18 Isahn uncovers something big.
eighteen
Isahn uncovers something big.
Three days after the abhorrent banquet, Isahn was shaving his face in preparation for a private cena with the princess when she pushed into his washroom, a tornado of gray linen.
“We have to go.”
“What’s wrong?” His razor scraped over his jawline as he found her, frantic, in the mirror’s reflection.
“Nothing.” She flailed her hands. “Well, obviously everything. But nothing’s wrong. Ean stopped by. Your uncle is meeting with my father in his tablinium.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Let’s go.” George bounced on the balls of her feet, breasts bobbling pleasantly in her pale gray gown. With a grimace, she stopped hopping and started rubbing her lower back.
He rinsed his blade. “Can’t we wait until I’m done?”
“No! They’re meeting now.” With her magic, George yanked the razor from his hand and deposited it in the rinse bowl.
He looked ridiculous. “Georgie—”
“You want to figure out what Peros is up to? This is how. Right now. Move.” She dragged him from the chamber, and he snagged his tunic as they passed his bed.
“You could give me thirty seconds,” Isahn complained as she flicked her knotted wall hanging aside.
“We don’t have thirty seconds.” Her voice was sharp with stress.
In the narrow passage, as they rushed through darkness, he realized he was being selfish. She was rightfully terrified of missing vital information. Content to wait, to act only when necessary, he’d almost let this slip by as well.
He caught her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m with you.”
She squeezed back, not slowing her pace. Her free hand came to rub her lower back, and Isahn shot out a cord of hot water to massage the spot that pained her.
“Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
As they neared Gasparo’s private office, conversation wafted through the small hole cut low in the wall. George ducked down to peer in, and Isahn used his magic to aid him in listening, per usual.
“Peregrines Regna? I don’t understand what this means?” Peros grumbled.
A smack rang out as the king snarled, “Don’t speak to your king like that.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Sorry, sir.”
Isahn imagined Peros groveling at the king’s feet. He’d have to ask George if that’s what his traitorous uncle had done when they could talk again.
“You fool, it’s the Old Tongue. Be careful with that—” Another smack. “This is key to finding what I need to learn. A prophecy. It’s the only clue that remains. You cannot take it. Memorize what is within. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You will find the tapestry and bring it to me. This letter speaks of one hidden in the west, with an inscription. The writer copied this text here from the fabric, but it’s incomplete.
This part says the queen of foreigners wove a tapestry with mind magic.
For the city’s protection, she hid it in the west. The west of Selwas.
” He paused dramatically. “And I know where it is.”
Isahn’s fingers froze, and he realized he’d been idly twirling one of Georgie’s curls.
“See here, this original note was sent from a town on Lake Rasda, and it speaks of a manor that looked up to the stars. Does that sound familiar to you?”
“Yes. Yes,” Peros said quickly.
Fucking fates. Isahn swallowed a groan.
“I need it. It’s the key to ensuring my reign over Domos remains plentiful and unchallenged. You will retrieve it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” More groveling, Isahn imagined.
“Remain here for six more days, dine with my viceroys, sample my pets. On the seventh, you’ll be escorted from Hepikoru to fulfill your mission.”
“May I ask a question, sir?”
Though his mind was a hive of activity, of fear, Isahn could hear the king suck his teeth in frustration. “Speak,” the monster barked.
“Will I retain my memories of your illustrious true capital? It’s so fine here, full of such wondrous pleasures, I’d like to cherish it always.”
The king chortled, clearly pleased with the bevy of compliments. “No. You’ll only know what’s necessary. When you’ve returned with the tapestry, we can speak again.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Isahn mimicked silently through a sneer.
With that, Peros was dismissed, and Gasparo followed. When the king’s footsteps grew distant, Isahn pulled his magic away from the wall. George waited until her father left the room entirely before she stood from the peephole and nudged Isahn to open their lamp.
They rushed through the walls, desperate to speak about what they’d overheard.
George fumbled with the lock to the first door.
Cursing softly, she handed the key to Isahn and allowed him to open the ancient panel.
Then they were through, making their way up the final short stretch before pushing into her apartments in a cloud of dust.
“Bath and chat, yes?” George half asked, half commanded as she paced into her bedroom and cracked open the door to find Ean waiting in the hall, as always. “Have the guest room tub filled.”
Isahn watched the faerie’s brows lift. “Just the one, P Georgie?”
“Just the one.”
The young faerie’s cheeks reddened as George slammed the door in his face.
She rounded on Isahn. “First, kiss me.” George nearly leapt into his arms as she walked him backward into the sitting room.
He obliged, letting his lips linger. That seemed to placate her, though he was still reeling from the information they’d overheard. “Done. What’s second? Is it the chat or the bath? I mean, I have a preference, but we have a lot to discuss now.”
In his bedroom, she halted him, fiddling with the straps on her dress. “I want to get clean, and we can talk while we bathe. They’re both ‘second.’” She dropped her hands, and her breasts tumbled free as the fabric fell away to pool around her feet.
Isahn blinked, momentarily struck dumb by her perfect, soft body. When she popped up on her toes to kiss him again, he loosened the waistband of his linen trousers and dropped them to the floor.
George’s warm hands slipped around his hips, and she palmed his ass while he struggled out of his tunic.
Although his body responded to her passion, there was something too frantic in her movements, and while he wanted her, he had to hold her back.
He assumed she was dealing with the same stark realization he’d had in the walls.
“George, talk to me.” Isahn clasped her by the shoulders and pulled away so he could study her face.
She huffed at him. “Just kiss me, I don’t want to think about any of this bullshit.”
Isahn pressed a scorching kiss to her plump lips before pulling her in for a hug.
“It’ll be all right,” he murmured.
The splash of water announced the filling of the tub. George pushed away, moving into the bathing chamber.
There, she waited for him to take the lead, bouncing in agitation.
“Come on.” He climbed in first and held out a hand.
Once she was settled between his legs, Isahn set about washing her, gently, clinically, as he’d done before but preferred not to think back on.
“After Peros left, my father put the paper inside his desk.” She turned to look over her shoulder at him, lips curved into a firm frown. “We’re going to have to steal it.”
“Why do we need it if we already know what it says?”
“We don’t know for sure. We have to retrieve it and double-check. I don’t trust a word he says. I want to read it for myself and have Ean consider the translation, see what he thinks.”
“The kid?”
“He’s fourteen and wise beyond his years. He hasn’t had an easy life. No one in Hepikoru has.”
Isahn nodded, his chin brushing against her curls.
“Ean knows the Old Tongues better than anyone I know.”
“Tongues, multiple?”
George bobbed her head, and her breasts moved in sync, rippling the surface of the warm bath. Isahn stifled a groan as blood flooded his cock, shoving against her back. Not the best time, bud.
“He’s fluent in Old Domossan. I know his Old Gramenian is decent, and he’s picked up a lot of Old Selwassan over the years. He says Old Karovian is mostly a mystery. Apparently, only the occasional phrase is found in old pixie and elf texts, and those are rare since most of their history is oral.”
He hummed thoughtfully while washing her knee. “Assuming it’s true, what your father said, and this tapestry is near Lake Rasda—George, I know where Peros is going.”
“It’s your home, isn’t it.” Her words weren’t a question, just an apprehensive statement of fact.
“Yes. And I have to beat him there. I can’t let him reach Lia first—or the tapestry.”
Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m scared, Isahn.”
Ditching the sponge, he hugged George and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “But now we know where the tapestry is. We can get it first, figure out what it’s for. It’s going to be all right.”
She started shaking, and at first he thought she was laughing, until she sucked in a stuttered breath and he realized she was shedding tears.
Shit. His stomach clenched. “We have a few days to figure something out. Maybe you could travel with me?”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Not during the Great Assembly. I think my father’s sending Peros off in the middle of it intentionally, to get him out and away from the city while everyone is distracted.”
“Perhaps.” Isahn sighed. “I don’t want to leave you here. Disguise yourself, leave with me?”
George stiffened in his arms, tilting her head to look up at him. “And abandon my people? I can’t, Isahn. I’d love to stay with you, but I have to stay here, especially now. He’s always been harsh, but recently he’s been snapping much quicker.”
He nodded, thinking of the banquet dinner, thinking of Gasparo’s hands on George.
“I need you to go.”
He knew she didn’t mean permanently, but fuck if it didn’t feel like it. “Of course,” he said on an inhale that belied how close he was to tears.
The tyrant could not be left to rule for long.
Even the House of Lords in Selwas knew Gasparo was an issue; they’d discussed it in passing at their meeting the year before.
The Blackmail King’s growing reclusiveness was threatening ongoing trade between the four nations of Duhra—they hadn’t realized just how horrific things were. How could they have known?
It was time for a shift in power for the ancient kingdom. It was time for a queen.
Running a bar of soap up and down George’s arms, he said, “I won’t be gone long. I’ll get in and get out. And I’ll come back. I promise.”
She nodded, her movements jerky. “Thank you. We’ll figure out what it’s for, then we’ll end this for good.”
“I’ll return for you.” His chest throbbed with the intensity of his words, with how much he meant them. Not once in his life had he felt this strongly about another person. It was a touch much, a bit scary, if he were being honest.
George sighed, softening against his chest once again. “Promise?”
“I promise. Are you ready to bring this to your friends?”
She tensed up again before agreeing, “We should. Tomorrow, we’ll plan to retrieve the note.”
“And we’ll tell them I have to follow Peros?”
“No.”
“No?”
Squirming, George turned sideways across his lap, her dry curls scrubbing against his damp chest as she stuck her feet over the side of the tub.
“We’ll focus on the note first. I don’t want to overwhelm everyone.
We have to be certain you need to follow Peros, that this isn’t a ruse, before telling them everything. ”
He dropped his head to the side, meeting her lowered gaze. “That seems unlike you.”
Face scrunched, she admitted, “I don’t want to tell them yet because it feels too real. Let’s make sure you have to go, and when we’re positive, we’ll tell them.”
“He’s leaving in a week,” he said softly, well aware of how hard this was for her to handle. It wasn’t easy for him either.
“And they can turn around a plan in a single night, if needed. We wait until we’re sure.”
“Of course.” There was no harm in waiting, and George was right, the more they talked aloud of him leaving, the more his gut tightened up. They’d face it when they had to and no sooner. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally her soft mouth.
“Come on, let’s get dressed. I’d like to tell you about my mother.” George’s voice was soft, sad, fragile. Isahn hated the way her words made him feel, like she carried a weight attached by a chain and he wouldn’t be able to lift the load, even if he tried.
They climbed out of the tub, and she returned to her room to pick out a dress, her soft bottom and shapely thighs swaying as she sashayed through the sitting room. Isahn swallowed thickly, then chastised himself for his wayward thoughts.
Not the right time, fool.
“Isahn?” Her voice rang out.
“Yes?”
“Finish shaving your face.”
He did, then tugged on a pair of loose linen trousers and a tunic, one with real sleeves that didn’t need fibulae like the others in his wardrobe.
The airy outfit was comfortable, and Isahn hoped he’d be able to bring some of his new clothing back to Selwas to spread the fashion.
It would be nice, he supposed, to check in on his estate.
But he’d promised Georgie he’d return, and he had to—for the mission. For her.
But he also had an earldom and people to tend to.
The path his thoughts took was winding, hard to follow, and too overgrown to traverse at the moment. Balancing his duty and desire didn’t bear considering... yet, anyway. There were greater things at stake.