She was currently carrying the wrapped book in her bag. They’d traded the duty often on the road, both paranoid about moving such a priceless artifact. They’d even taken shifts to keep watch over it at night, like new parents with a fresh babe. Sharing lessened their collective anxiety.
Wynnie kept Isahn looking like a Salskanan while they made their way through the city toward the lake. The plan was to go all the way in: Get Isahn safely back to the palace before dropping his disguise.
“Don’t know about my face, but I don’t think Ean gave me this much arm hair when he glamored me for the Great Assembly,” he quipped.
“Wow, you’re remembering a lot,” Dunstan commented, dropping his hold on Isahn for a minute to rub his opposite arm.
“Slowly but surely.” Isahn smiled wanly.
“You’ll have to hand off the horses up here.” Wynnie gestured to a stableboy from Villa Senone who emerged from a side street.
Isahn gave his mount a scratch behind the ears before saying goodbye. It was a paltry thanks to the horse who’d served him well for the past month. But he would come back out to visit the beast, bringing many treats when he did.
“We think we can help with your memories,” Dunstan said as they continued toward the docks.
“Can you really help?” Isahn perked up. “I’m still missing things, I’m pretty sure. Some memories end abruptly, or the sound is absent, or faces are blank.”
“That feels pretty normal to me,” Wynnie commented softly.
“Not for me. Especially not when the memory involves George,” Isahn replied. “How can you help me?”
“Ean has ideas. He taught us some techniques,” Dunstan said. “He claims it’s going to be like using our sensory magic to deconstruct whatever’s left of the wall around your memories.We have to wield our magic like it’s elf magic—the way Ean moves objects.”
“He said his elf power involves pulling an object apart to reposition it in space,” Wynnie explained.
“But we won’t reposition anything, just get rid of the bricks the veil built. We hope. Does that make sense?” Dunstan finished.
“Yes. Let’s clear the rubble, please.” They had a plan, an honest-to-gods plan. His smile spread alongside a warmth in his chest. His friends had come through.
“We’re getting close,” Hildy announced. “Let’s wrap up this conversation, so I can handle Isahn’s accent.”
“We have a sanctioned token for you and a note from Georgie to get you through.” Wynnie pulled her lips into a thin line. “Do you know how she sometimes has to pretend to be a little—”
“Harsh?” Isahn asked.
“Yes. Don’t be alarmed about the contents. She may have gone a little overboard. She just wants you through intact.”
“Here we go,” Hildy warned. “Test your voice.”
“What should I say?” His false accent was thick and unfamiliar.
“Perfect. We’re not taking any unnecessary risks. And I’m dropping my sound mirage now.”
Isahn nodded, silent, as an aide should be.
“Who’s this, Morelli?” one of the legionaries at the docks questioned Dunstan as they approached.
“A friend, for the princess.” He yanked Isahn roughly by the upper arm, pulling him toward the waiting boat.
“Ferry doesn’t leave until the morning,” the second soldier said.
“We have a special missive. Have to head in immediately.” Wynnie and Hildy hung back as Dunstan handled the men.
The first legionary was uncertain, until he skimmed the page Dunstan produced. Skepticism turned to mirth. “Get a load ofthis.” He stepped closer to the second man on duty. “Princess Georgetta says she wants this aideinformed. The last one was too dull.” He burst into laughter.
The other soldier turned beet red as he processed the implication of the note. “Let them through, then.”
“Yeah, you all can go. Sounds like the princess is in a bit of a frenzy, better not keep her waiting.” He continued laughing as their group passed through.
