“Get out of my sight,” the king commanded.
Bowing his head and unable to stand, Dunstan crawled pitifully toward the door.
“Faster!” her father screamed.
Terrified that he would draw the king’s wrath again, she offered Dunstan support by way of her magic. He clearly wasn’t in any state to do it himself. With her touch magic giving her more strength than her physical form could ever manage, George wrapped an invisible arm around Dunstan’s waist. Struggling, he got to his feet and limped from thetablinium.
As much as she wanted to stick around and suss out her father’s next move, she was far more concerned with her friend’s well-being. She raced back to her chambers.
“IneedahealerforDunstan,” George told Eanraig. “He’s likely headed to his apartments. Send them there.”
“Mage or fae?” he asked as he flitted anxiously around the dining chamber.
“Fae,” George replied somberly.
“Are ye certain?”
“Beyond. Don’t mend him entirely, but see if they can get close. We don’t want my father getting suspicious. If your people need him to forget the encounter, I’ll make it happen. Please, Ean. I need him healthy.Please.”
Ean bobbed his tiny head.
“If Dunstan’s not in his room, you need to find him and get him there. Once he’s being helped, return here. There’s more to be done.”
He buzzed toward the door.
“Wait! Can you send in a bath before you go?”
Eanraig paused briefly before nodding. “Aye, it’s ready for ye.”
“Thank you,” she said as he darted from her apartment.
Bathing was a perfunctory affair as George found herself unable to enjoy the warmth with Dunstan in extreme pain somewhere across the palace. The pixies would help, Ean would make it happen, she was sure of it.
The existence of the pixies’ powerful healing magic was a fae secret. George wasn’t supposed to know about it at all, but she did. Eanraig revealed it all after she’d experienced it first-hand. A few years before, her father had gotten particularly violent aftercenaone night. He’d snapped her wrist and told her to mirage it. Ean had her mended by his friends and brought her in on the thousand-year-old secret.
She felt guilty tapping into the fae’s precious, protected knowledge. She recognized it was a betrayal to those who’d kept the information secure amongst their enslaved people for centuries. But if ever there was a time for her to ask Ean to bend the rules again, it was now. Dunstan wouldn’t speak a word of it.
With a beleaguered sigh, she pulled herself out of the tub and set about getting dressed. Without Isahn there to rapidly dry her hair with his watercoursing, she’d returned to her old ways of piling it loosely atop her head and wrapping the whole thing in an old shawl. It worked wonders for shaping her curls, and it kept her back from getting uncomfortably wet.
She shuddered at the thought of the sensation. The feel of wet fabric against her dry skin always made her shiver at the unpleasantness. There was no reason for the reaction; she’dalways been that way. Then Isahn came along and spoiled her thoroughly with all facets of his water magic.
Longing laced the exhale that flowed from George’s lungs as she wandered into her closet to select a simple outfit. She missed her earl so much, her heart throbbed.
Soon, Ean returned, followed by Burke and Adda, whom he’d urged to visit her.
“We can’t wait any longer,” she blurted when they walked into her sitting room.
“For what? To replace the king?” Burke asked.
“Georgie,” Adda began in quiet tones. “Listen, I know I’m the last person who should give political advice, but it doesn’t seem wise to move now.”
“He almost killed Dunstan. He’s suspicious. The pill’s ready. He’s going to figure us out soon,” she rattled off.
“How would you even achieve it without the team? You need Hildy,” Burke said.
Ceadda nodded. “Wait for Hildy. Wait for Isahn,” he urged in his gentle way. “This isn’t your mamma again, George. We checked in with Dunstan.” He gestured between himself and Burke. “He’s awake. He’s fine. Angry as all get out, with a pulled muscle in his leg and a sprain in his wrist, but fine.”
“Furious,” Burke added.
