Her voice distant and echoey, Hildy asked if he was all right.
He remembered writing that letter, sitting at Georgie’s bold yellow desk, being with her, her wild star ceilings.Love. He remembered saying goodbye, holding each other, the door, kissing her.
Realization was a soft, warm hand, bedecked in rings, stroking down the center of his chest. A bubble of heat rose, burst, and bloomed within him, spreading from the center of his soul, all-consuming, to blanket him.
She loved him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she loved him in return. And Isahn rememberedexactlywhat he’d been planning to do.
“Was that helpful?” Solaelia asked, unable to wait any longer.
“Exceptionally, thank you.” He grinned, not quite ready to share his findings.
thirty
Isahn parries.
“Youknow,”Hildybeganas they wandered the corridors of Staridge the following morning, hopping from gallery to gallery, searching for the tapestry, “I like your sister.”
“You said that when we arrived.”
“Ah, yeah.” She waved him off, stopping before a weaving with vibrant, interlaced geometric designs. “This looks Gramenian in origin.”
“Agreed. I don’t think that’s the one we want.”
“Lia’s very pretty,” Hildy continued. “Quite charming. I can see why you were disconcerted when George dressed up like a curly blonde with blue eyes to question you.”
He paused in the middle of the hall, his brow furrowed. “I don’t remember th—”
A familiar tilting sensation, like rocking in a tiny boat on tumultuous waves, tumbled the contents of his stomach. He recalled shackles, a dank room, a dark-skinned guard with puffywhite hair. Another, a less stoic woman, pale, with features like his sister’s, but so very, very different.
Roses and patchouli.
He’d shown her how to cut him down, how to fight through his magic. It earned him some semblance of trust.“Come on, you look like my sister. It’s weird,”he’d said, and she threw him into the stars. Then he’d drenched her, washing away the mirages she insisted on wearing. That was the first time he’d seen her, really seen her, curvaceous and soft with a halo of gentle frizz coating her black curls.George.
Hildy studied him as his memories rushed in, pooling and settling into the dried-out nooks and crannies of his mind.
“How do you know about that?” he finally asked, finding he’d braced a palm on the head of a bust for support. He patted the stone tresses, then continued to the next wall hanging.
“George tells me everything, we’re best friends.” She shrugged. “I think that one’s too new. It’s pretty though.”
“I agree.”
“My point was, I can sort of understand why you felt so awkward when she donned a mask that reminded you of your sister. I mean,ifall that crap she feeds me about your attraction is true.” Her disbelief was evident in her unconcealed eye roll.
“What are you talking about?” He pointed to another tapestry, and Hildy just shook her head.
As they proceeded down to the level below, Hildy explained, “Georgie claimed it was instantaneous. She said she magnetized to you from the moment she saw you in Sorhaven. She got huffy when you were on the bad side.”
“I was never on the ‘bad side.’” Pulling Hildy away from a corridor that only displayed oil paintings, he guided her toward the lower level of the estate.
“I know, but you know what I mean. Sheclaimsit’s part of why she was quick to trust you—she just knew.”
“That makes sense. I was drawn to her before I saw her real face.”
“Oh, bullshit.”
He drew his brows together and gave Hildy an incredulous look. “Why?”
“Attraction builds over time. Her story ispassablybelievable, I guess—but only because she’s such a good judge of character. How could you have known you were attracted to George if you’d never actually seen her face? It’s not possible.”
