“And after that?”
George wished for a spot of her usual impulsivity. Scrabbling for her standard decision-making abilities, she said, “We need to get back to Domos. We’ll take him with us.”
Hildy lifted a brow.
“We’ll figure out who he is at Elio and Greta’s.”
“And if not there?”
Fighting a sneer, she replied, “Then we get him to Nowosmont and get Wynnie to have a go.”
four
Isahn is moved.
Bound,gagged,andblindfolded,Isahn was hauled from the basement and tossed into a crate on the back of a cart. It must have been morning, early, with a chorus of birds singing at him from all angles. Other noises met his ears too: the creak of a door, the thunk of a box being tossed up beside him.
Someone climbed on the box, and heels thudded rhythmically against wood, vibrating unpleasantly against his skull. Tucked away, he used a cord of water to pull back the fabric from one eye, determined no one could see him, then freed himself from the blindfold and gag. Isahn debated cutting through the rest of his bindings, but logic won out. If one of his guards spotted him, all his good behavior would be for naught.
Breathing deeply as the cart rumbled along, the fresh countryside air, awash with roses and a hint of patchouli, assaulted him pleasantly. With eyes uncovered, he could just see through the spaces between some of the better-worn slats. Daylight filtered in around the shadowed bottom sitting on thecrate. The one with the raspy voice was right there, so close he would’ve been able to touch her with the top of his head—if wood wasn’t in the way.
Lost in thoughts of Mira, the confusing woman who hid behind practiced mirages and seemed meaner than she was, it took a moment for Isahn to realize the creaking and birdsong had gone silent. Carefully, he sent a tendril of water upward, puncturing through the sound barrier he suspected surrounded them and pressing his magic against the slats of his box. Voices flooded in—an argument already in progress.
“You didwhat?!” Odos’s gritty voice cracked, his frustration evident.
“They talked to him while we were out,” Tocco replied, soft and smooth.
“When did you learn of this? When did you two have time alone?”
“None of your fucking business,” Tocco growled.
“It doesn’t matter Bur— It doesn’t matter,” Melody cut in.
Isahn smirked. Theywereusing code names, and Bur-something was Odos. What did that mean for George? Why wasn’t he traveling with them? Or was he along for the ride? Another swirl of rose and incense drifted through his box, and he flicked his gaze up as the woman above him fidgeted.
“Does he know who the fuck she is?” Odos’s voice carried real concern.
“Shut the fuck up, man.”
“No, you shut the fuck up! Waltzing around with Melody in front of me—”
“I’m literally right here,” the woman shouted.
Shuffles and thumps indicated a scuffle on the seat at his back.Definitely a love triangle.He snorted, then slapped his hands over his mouth.
“Stop it,” Mira scolded without moving in her seat.
“Ow! George, that hurt!” voice gritty, a man shrieked, and the people in the front of the cart went still.
“Deiwos,Odos!” Melody snapped.
George.Isahn’s pulse flickered in his wrists. The constant rage whenever that name slipped out. Mira handled mirages...Mirahandledmirages, but she’d done something to Odos just then. Something with touch magic. And Isahn only knew ofonefamily with two forms of mental magic. He could be wrong... information was slim.
Air squeezed through his nostrils as he breathed rapidly, jaw clenched tight. Her lush scent with its woodsy undertones swept through the box again, and Isahn wanted to scream. He’d thought maybe George and Mira were spending time together, like the trio in the front of the cart.
But he was wrong.
Mira and George were the same person.
