Chapter 29
twenty-nine
Isahn finds himself home.
“Deiwa,” Hildy breathed as they rode up the drive to Staridge House.
It was a bit before midnight when they’d arrived in Midlake.
His forested town tended toward later hours and was still a hive of activity when they rode through.
The cobbled roads and homes were well-maintained by local watercoursers, windshifters, and earthshapers.
Dancing flames from firebearers, also on his payroll, lit the streets and offered warmth on the cool spring night.
Coming home was seeing it through fresh eyes, and Midlake was a little paradise in the woods, surrounded by pines, and awash in a welcoming golden glow.
He’d expected Hildy to focus on the elemental magic all around them.
Instead, she’d gushed nonstop about the differences between his hometown and hers.
She admitted he’d been right when he described the colors of Selwassan buildings as being like Duhra itself, all gray and brown stone, and wood.
Lots of wood. It was the opposite of Domossan architecture in many ways, which invoked the colors of sea and sky.
“I don’t remember that,” he’d said.
“Why the fuck are the roofs made of reeds?” Hildy asked as they rode through town.
Isahn explained thatch to her. She found it odd but was suitably impressed.
She went on about the uniquely organic nature of the homes in Isahn’s town.
The buildings had never struck him as significant, but he supposed the way they blended into the forest, quaint and bubbly like stubby willows with their thick roofs hiding whole stories beneath the thatch, was quite adorable when compared with the crisp, stone structures in Domos.
Staridge was another story; it was all stone and dwarfed the buildings in the village with its many stories and glass-domed sky room atop the house.
The sprawling sandstone seat of the earldom was impressive.
That was the point of an estate house, after all.
But it was built into the slope of the ridge for which it was named, and when Hildy saw the place from the back, Isahn was certain she’d lose her mind.
There were two more levels invisible from the front.
The opposite side was all floor-to-ceiling windows offering stunning views of Lake Rasda during the day and the stars—also for which the home was named—at night.
It was good to be back.
“Deiwa,” Hildy said again. “It’s really beautiful here. Those stars,” she gushed.
“I’m glad it’s a cloudless night. This is the perfect time to be outside.”
“I didn’t realize the name was so literal.”
Isahn chuckled. His home had once been styled Star Ridge, eons ago.
At some point, one of his ancestors decided to class the name up by dropping an R and mushing the words together.
Perched to the east of Midlake, half the property was pure untouched forest. One quarter held the house and lawns, and the final stretch of his estate was Lake Rasda itself.
At one time, the earldom held the full lake within its bounds, but Isahn’s great-great-grandfather, on his mother’s side, wrote an easement to grant use of the water back to the people. It was the right thing to do.
When they emerged from the forest into the vast clearing that hugged his home, Isahn awaited the familiar wash of pride, that feeling of ancestral connection, the sense of responsibility that always filled his chest, even after something as small as a trip to town.
He felt it as a child, he felt it as a man.
And while the sight of Staridge still evoked appreciation and nostalgia, something had changed.
He definitely didn’t feel as great as he should have, but it was still good, overall, to be home.
A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that home had changed locations at some point during the past month. That would be a problem, seeing as he was the earl.
He sighed, trying to release the odd ball of tension tumbling in his gut while they rode up the drive. A faint sense of agitation hovered around him, even as the front doors opened and light from within streamed forth.
Solaelia drifted onto the front porch, smiling placidly as she gazed upon the new arrivals. Her cornflower blue dress rippled in the night’s breeze, and her wheat-colored curls were piled high. Always so godsdamned put together.
Lia nodded once in quiet greeting before floating down the curved stairs. A flickering flame in her right hand lit the way, and her left palm hovered a breath above the railing, as was proper for a lady.
“You can cut the act, Hildy’s not expecting airs and pretensions,” he called, cupping a hand to his mouth to enhance his voice.
Beside him, Hildy chuckled.
“Oh, thank the gods! I’m so glad you’re home!
” Solaelia shouted, clapping excitedly as a grin split her face.
She tossed her flame into the air, urging the writhing ball of fire to hover over her as she flounced down the remaining steps and charged toward them.
“Dismount! What are you doing? I want to give you a hug!”
“I like her,” Hildy murmured as she climbed down from her horse.
Isahn’s feet met the cobbles a moment later, and a groom materialized from somewhere below stairs to take away their tired horses.
“Extra oats and apples for both, and rub them down twice as long as usual. It’s been a long day and a longer journey. Thank you, Karis.” He made it a point to know the names of everyone in his employ.
“Yes, my lord.”
His smile held until the young man guided the mounts away and Lia asked, “Does this mean you’re retaking your seat?”
“Didn’t you promise me a hug?” Isahn dodged the question with one of his own and threw his arms open wide.
His slightly younger sister eyed him warily before wrapping him in a tight embrace. Heat from her trailing inferno warmed Isahn almost as much as being reunited with Solaelia.
“I missed you. I can’t wait to hear all about your adventure.”
He spat a bit of her hair from his mouth before replying, “And you will, once we’re clean, and while we’re being fed. If you don’t mind?”
“It’s your house, why would I mind?” Lia furrowed her brow before turning toward Hildy. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Hill, was it?”
Hildy cleared her throat and shuffled slightly, though her posture from the waist up belied none of her discomfort.
“There’s a lot I need to explain. But long story short, not anymore. This is Hildred Segreto of Domos—but don’t call her that, call her Hildy.”
“Hildy.” Lia, ever a lady, pivoted quickly. “It’s lovely to meet you. Come inside, I have a guest room ready for you. And Isahn, your apartments have been eagerly awaiting your return.”
“You have a beautiful home, uh—” Hildy looked back and forth between Solaelia and him. “Both of you?”
The siblings chuckled, and their trio headed up the stairs.
“I’ll give you a full tour tomorrow,” Solaelia offered with a grin.
Isahn stood beneath the flowing water of his shower in his private bath, in his apartments, on his bloody estate, but he still felt out of place, like he was experiencing a foreign land for the first time.
Something drastic had changed in him, much more significantly than he’d first suspected.
All because of that single hazy month in Domos.
All because of her. George, Georgie, the princess, the love of his life.
His mind traveled to the northern kingdom, to a bedroom with a celestial ceiling and a cacophony of colorful fabrics, to a woman with a beauty mark on her cheek, lusciously plump lips, and curves for days. He could practically feel her soft body beneath his hands if he thought hard enough.
A low groan escaped him.
He had a few minutes before meeting his sister and Hildy in the morning room for a small meal and a big conversation. That was time enough.
Kicking up the heat in his shower, he braced himself against the wall with his left hand and wrapped his right around his erection.
Whirling thoughts carried him straight back to Domos, to her bed.
Rolling and twisting bodies. First he was on top, then she.
He explored her wetness, played with her breasts, teasing and loving her fully.
Then she was beneath him again as he slid home—home—and peppered her with kisses that spoke of endless devotion.
He finished onto the tile floor and washed it down the drain, watching the swirl of water drain away. He couldn’t be sure whether his memories were real or the fantasies of a man obsessed, couldn’t say for certain how she felt in return. But he’d sort it out. He had to.
Though Isahn’s chest brimmed with a steady, humming warmth, tears welled in his eyes for a person and place he’d half forgotten. He toweled off with one word ringing in his mind: Home.
“That’s quite a lot of information.” Lia swirled her wine and selected a biscuit from the tray before her.
“It is.” Hildy nodded.
At their midnight meal in the morning room, they devoured meat pies followed by desserts and drinks. They’d told Lia everything—excluding the existence of the veiled city and the non-extinct status of the fae.
Guilt sped Isahn’s heart and tightened his stomach, leading him to set down his final pastry unfinished.
Hiding the fae from his sister felt wrong, but there wasn’t enough time to explain it all and convince her it wasn’t an elaborate jape.
For the time being, Solaelia believed her brother suffered memory loss from an unfortunate fall on a brick road in Nowosmont.
Some things would have to be shared later.
“You see why we’re doubly worried about Peros’s reappearance in Selwas?” Isahn verified that Lia picked up on that important piece of the long story.
“Oh, yes. He’s possibly trying to kill us and take the earldom, but he’s definitely trying to locate some ancient tapestry at the behest of the evil Domossan King. It’s horrendous.”
“It is,” Hildy agreed.
“Have you heard anything about Peros?”