“Both.” Isahn paused his steps. “But I was speaking of the memory issue. I’m ready for it to be over with. I want the rubble gone.”
“I mean... we could start now,” Hildy began. “I’ll be on sound, Dunstan’s handling touch, Wynnie will manage vision, Burke, scents, and Adda, taste. We’re all accounted for.”
Tension drained from Isahn’s shoulders at the premise of beginning the process. He was nervous about everyone prodding around in his head. But he wanted nothing more than to be whole for Georgie when she returned.
The old Isahn would’ve waited it out, waited for someone with George’s forceful personality to come and tell him what to do,waited to see if his life changed. Not any more—apparently. As Lia so helpfully pointed out, he’d been taking control a lot more than he realized those past months. He’d risen to the occasion for George, and now he’d rise for himself.
“Do it now,” Isahn demanded.
“I’ll get Ean,” Wynnie offered with a soft smile before slipping into the dining chamber, sectioning herself off before opening the outer door.
According to a conversation with Dunstan and Wynnie on the ride across the lake, the king hadn’t yet replaced his two “missing” spies with anyone of value, but the princess and her friends couldn’t be too careful.
The dining chamber door reopened, and Wynnie and Ean entered together—Eanraig fluttering just above her head.
“Ach, Lord Yaranbur, I cannae believe ye're back!” The young faerie zoomed across the room to greet him.
Wynnie huffed, attempting to smooth her wing-blown hair.
“Ean, it’s great to see you.” Isahn stuck out a pinky for a sort-of handshake. “I hear you’re the brains behind saving this operation?” He tapped his temple.
Ean grinned. Atinkleannounced the arrival of a tea tray, loaded with supplies. “Indeed I am. Are ye ready to begin?”
Adda busied himself with drink preparation, while the elf and the mindmages ran over their plan one final time. Hildy moved from the sofa and ushered Isahn over to take her spot.
“We’ll move you to the bed when it’s time, but sit here so it’s easy for us to grab you.”
He took his assigned seat and his special tea and sipped it. “Oh, this is delicious. Uncharacteristically so. How does it taste like nostalgia and a rainbow after a thunderstorm?”
Adda chuckled in baritone as a wide grin lit up his face. “Glad you like it.”
Taste magic was much more nuanced than Isahn had realized. Taking another deep sip, he savored the post-storm flavor.
“Ach, Eanraig,” Burke said in a very poor imitation of the elven brogue. “Can ye tell oos a storae?”
Caught between amusement and fury, Ean zinged into the air, and Isahn found himself enraptured by the boy’s zigzagging movements.
So very tiny. Tiny little pixies and elves. How ridiculous.He laughed to himself and took another sip.
“What’s ridiculous?” Wynnie asked, leaning in to peer at his face.
Oops, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
“You all right?” Hildy checked. “Feeling sleepy?”
Isahn tried to nod, but his eyelids, his head, his hands, everything was too heavy.
“Let me take that for you,” Adda rumbled as he retrieved the leaden cup from Isahn’s weak fingers.
thirty-three
George is happy again.
Georgetriedherbestnot to rush back to her apartment. Gliding on hurried steps hidden beneath herstola, she whisked through the main levels of the palace, fabric rustling around her. Despite being well past midnight, her father’s domain was still active, though blissfully less so than during the Great Assembly.
Amos, a little green-haired, green-winged pixie, one of Ean’s friends, perched delicately on a potted cypress beside the stairs. George tipped her chin in greeting, and the round-faced young man winked while plucking a minuscule seashell out of thin air and flipping it like a coin.
Seashells were a symbol of love, of the goddess Appia. Their beautiful protective exterior reminded someone, maybe the goddess herself, of true love’s embrace.
