“I mean, maybe? It’s certainly better than doing nothing.”
“True.”
Duringyetanothersleeplessnight, this time back in Selwas, in Turkhane, Isahn’s mind cracked open. He’d spent the night picking at bricks, as his new friend suggested he try. When the dust settled, sparkling in the morning light, he realized some things had not been quite as they’d seemed.
For starters, he knew Hildy had also gone by Melody as a code name when she and her friends had first, unintentionally, imprisoned him. He didn’t remember everything, but he was pretty sure he’d broken through to a fair amount of the truth. Things like being questioned in a basement in Sorhaven returned to his mind, riding in a blasted box on the back of a cart, being freed by a beautiful woman whose face and hair were ever-changing; he remembered those things quite clearly.
But Isahn encountered a few new issues. For starters, he was in love with the face-shifting woman. His heart didn’t lie, and he could easily picture her many hair colors and textures, the different tones she effortlessly slipped over her skin. The problem was, he wasn’t sure whether his feelings were based on any real-life relationship. Had he fallen head over heels for someone who wasn’t interested? Whowasshe? He longed to ask Hildy, but some things were too private. It wasn’t like she would have any way of confirming that Isahn’s feelings were real.
“It’s less than six hours’ ride from here to Midlake,” he argued as they paused on their horses beside a branch in the road. The turn to their left led to Napivol, an approximate midpoint between Turkhane and Midlake, but it would add at least two more hours to their damnably long journey, and that wasn’t evencounting the extra, pointless overnight. The way ahead went directly to Midlake, tohome. If they continued on, they’d make it before midnight. That seemed reasonable to him. His arse already hurt, but with the insanity raging inside his mind, Isahn desperately wanted to get to someplace familiar. “We can finish the journey today. Peros won’t be stopping. Why should we?”
“We’re stopping.”
“There’s no reason to add an overnight.”
“Yes, there is.”
“No, there’s not. Why!?”
“Because I said so,” Hildy replied.
“Beciss.” The strange word slipped out before Isahn could even process what he was saying.
He could have sworn Hildy smirked.
A new mudslide of memories rushed him. Gorgeous deep eyes, smooth dark skin, adorably frizzy black curls. A demanding attitude. Compassion beyond bounds.
“Oh my gods,” he gasped.George. Princess Georgetta Kastrumanos of Domos, who hated her full name.Isahn blinked rapidly, half as fast as his racing heart.
The tone of his mental onslaught shifted. He was creeping through darkened hallways, or was he inside the walls? A panel opened. A bearded man raging at his Uncle Peros. The woman he loved in pain. Humiliation. Wings. A scrap of paper. Prophecies.
He gagged, nearly vomiting on the road.
“Are you all right?”
“No! I’m not fucking all right. Why are you really traveling with me? What’s our mission?!” Panicked, Isahn kicked his horse into a canter, heading straight on toward Midlake. It didn’t matter what this Hildy woman wanted; Isahn wanted to gohome.
She caught up to him in no time, urging him to slow his mount to a walk so they could talk. The legionary-turned-private-guard-to-the-princess capitulated to his silent demand. They’d ride into the night.
Soon, he’d be back at Staridge.
As their horses clomped along the hard-packed earth, Hildy told Isahn the long and sordid tale of the horrible King Gasparo, whose unparalleled magical abilities and unchallenged reign had gone to his head. The terrible king, following in the footsteps of his forefathers, kept a great many enslaved in Domos using shackles powered by magic.
The woman’s words felt true enough, but there was something she wasn’t telling him, something she was skirting around. Isahn knew, because he remembered more than he’d admitted to. “Don’t talk in metaphors, Hildy. I remember Eanraig and the fae.”
“Oh, fuck.”
twenty-eight
George has a bad time.
Georgepaddedacrosshersilent sitting room. Without friends to distract her from wallowing, she did just that. Soft and sad, her footsteps rustled against the bedroom rug as she began her nightly routine.
She’d asked Wynnie to start staying at Villa Senone three nights prior for two reasons: First, Georgie needed alone time, even if it was spent in relative misery. She was a firm believer infeelingher feelings. Second, she decided a message from Hildy was more and more likely to arrive with each passing day. It was basic logic.
Routine complete, George climbed into bed and snuggled up against her Isahn stand-in. Embarrassingly, with Wynnie no longer around, she’d taken to stuffing a trio of bed pillows inside one of Isahn’s previously worn tunics. He’d already left most of his things, expecting his trip to be a few short weeks. Now she had everything but the clothes on his back. She’d already used up his first shirt, and it no longer smelled like him. But therewere at least two others she could make use of, and George desperately hoped her love would be back—both physically and mentally—by the time his clothes lost their Isahn-ly scent.
Hopeful that one of the notes she’d penned reached Hildy on their journey south, hopeful that the trip was going according to plan, George hugged pillow-Isahn tightly. With a bit of sight magic, a dash of touch magic, and a lot of imagination, she could probably do a pretty good job of pretending he was there beside her... if she wanted to.
