Chapter 37 #2
Georgetta returned to Isahn’s side, wrapping her small, warm hand around his.
“I’ll clean up in here,” Ean offered, breaking the preternatural quiet. A soft tinkle accompanied a blanket popping up mid-air and drifting down to cover the dead king.
“Is it done? Is he really gone?” The aide stood in the corner, craning her neck to look at the body on the floor.
“It’s done, Helena,” George confirmed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’ve been wanting to do that for three years. Thank you for the opportunity to fight back.”
“You’re safe now. It’s done.”
Isahn had a feeling George said those words to herself as much as to the other woman. Pulling Georgie in for a strength-lending hug, he whispered for her alone, “I love you. You did it. You’re safe.”
When George was composed, Isahn dropped the icy magic that still jammed the lock, melting it into an airborne blob he let splash to the floor. There were bigger messes, bigger concerns.
Georgetta inhaled deeply. On a slow exhale, she drew back her shoulders, stepped in front of Isahn, and turned to face the door. “I’ve invited them in.”
Her back was bloodied, emerald stola half torn to shreds, hair a tangle of unruly curls and unwinding braids. A dried rivulet of blood ran down the back of her bruised neck. She was a wreck, a perfect, beautiful, regal mess.
Pride crawled up Isahn’s throat, and he blinked back the wetness blurring his vision.
The doors swung open, giving entry to a silent rush of their friends.
Dunstan, Wynnie, Hildy, Burke, even Adda flooded the room.
Dunstan, who’d been paired with Helena at that terrible banquet several weeks back, crossed to her and clasped her hands, speaking softly as he checked her over—though he looked the worst of their pair.
Hil and Burke were spattered in blood, too.
Adda paused to lock the doors, and they all stumbled around a bit, taking stock of the situation, of the damage to the room and the people in it. Hildy took control, ushering everyone into position, forming a sort of audience before Isahn and George.
“Is he actually dead?” Burke asked.
Hildy exhaled a long breath of air.
“Wow.” Wynnie blinked.
“I can’t believe it.” Ceadda shook his head.
“You’ve done it.” Dunstan tore his eyes off the body first, his arm slung around Helena’s shoulder as he shifted his focus to a disheveled George, who stood straight-backed and proud, watching over her friends.
One after the other, everyone turned their gaze to her. Awe, adoration, hope, and love brimmed in their eyes.
Isahn stepped up to stand by her side.
Ean fluttered over, moving slowly, deliberately, by his standards. He stopped and stood on a lectus.
Hildy cleared her throat, a quiet proclamation. It was a cue none had ever practiced, yet they all knew what to do.
Hildy lowered herself first, then Burke, Dunstan, Helena, Wynnie, Adda, and Ean on the sofa. He was so very tiny, Isahn supposed his added height wouldn’t be considered a slight.
Isahn dropped down on one knee, too; the second time he’d done so before this woman. He honestly couldn’t say which situation was more heart-stoppingly meaningful. Probably this.
Everyone inhaled the monumental moment, basking in the shift.
Isahn wasn’t going to break the silence, but he did reach up to grab Georgie’s hand, planting a firm kiss on its back.
“Long live Queen Georgetta Kastrumanos of Domos, first of her name,” Hildy proclaimed, voice thick with emotion.
“Long may she reign,” Wynnie added.
“To Queen George!” Burke summed things up nicely.
“To Queen George.” They all spoke in unison.
A hum of pure magic radiated about the space. The queen shivered, and Isahn squeezed her hand, lending support.
Hours passed in the triclinium. The battle was won, but bureaucracy waited for no man.
Ean cleaned up while they worked. Hildy left briefly, as the queen’s advisor, to speak with the deputy commander of the legionaries, offering a warning that he now reported to Georgetta.
Mass announcements would be sent around the realm and into the other countries, detailing the king’s passing and announcing the new Domossan ruler.
“Years of poor decision-making finally caught up to King Gasparo,” the missives would say.
Additional correspondence was going out to call in the viceroys who needed to be dealt with. Let them wonder at Georgetta’s motivations. They were welcome to believe she wanted them close for some positive reason. They’d be suitably surprised to learn they were wrong.
For those who had the wherewithal to read between the lines, let them be petrified when they came to meet their queen.
“What if they try to run?” Burke asked.
“They can try. They won’t get far. And if they do, it won’t be for long,” Hildy replied, tone firm.
“I give them three years, maximum, to stay on the run from Georgie.” Isahn couldn’t resist making the stupid joke, a reference to their conversation when she’d freed him two months back.
The queen snorted and squeezed his hand.
“My father is being informed as we speak, and he’ll bring the allies into Hepikoru,” Wynnie confirmed.
“So, that’s really everything?” Burked checked.
“For tonight,” George replied with a yawn.
“We’ll get the rest of these finished up.” Hildy gestured to the remaining parchments on the table.
George had already written the most critical letters and signed two dozen more, leaving her team—their friends—with several blank pages bearing her signature. They would write the remaining summons and send them out across the realm.
“Are you ready for bed?” Isahn slung his arm around a tired Georgie.
“Please,” she murmured, stepping into him and resting her head on his shoulder.
Pride surged in him, raising the hairs on his arms as he comforted George. She could handle the realm, and he’d handle her. It just worked.
Together, with soft smiles on their lips, they departed for bed to a chorus of well-wishes and “goodnights.”
“You really trust them. You’re family,” Isahn commented as they walked through the quiet halls.
“Of course. I trust them with my life, just like you.” She bumped his hip. “I’m making them all viceroys.”
“Even Ean?”
“Later, when he’s a little older. But yes, even Ean.”
Isahn laughed.
“You know,” George began as they climbed the stairs. “You’re now officially my future king.”
“Consort,” he clarified. “I don’t want to rule. I’ll happily give my opinion. It’s up to you and your team whether you take it or not.”
His queen laughed huskily as they reached their insulae and slipped inside.