No!
Gasparo spun toward the source. His stance wide as his gaze seemed to settle on the cowering aide. But George couldn’t be sure. The room whirled.
Panicked, unable to suck in air, she flooded the king’s vision with the most horrible nightmare her addled mind could produce—the images of Mamma’s murder.
It started low and slow, like a ravenous cat letting out low warning growls, before Gasparo’s laughter grew maniacal. He didn't bother to turn toward her as he spoke, “I never thought I’d get to see this again. Truly, what a treat. A perfect parting gift!” He cackled.
The magic around her face loosened briefly. George took one pitiful gasping breath before she felt him again, gripping her throat.
thirty-seven
Isahn kneels.
“IneverthoughtI’dgetto see this again. Truly, what a treat. A perfect parting gift!” The king practically frothed at the mouth, deranged, as he spat in crazed delirium.
Even Ean stilled upon Isahn’s shoulder while Gasparo’s behavior escalated further. His lunatic jubilation, the blood dripping down his shirt—it chilled Isahn to the bone.
As if seeing George tacked up against the wall, unable to move, wasn’t horrifying enough, she gasped.Gulpedfor air, before a look of absolute dread usurped her persistent defiance.
Isahn’s heart thundered in his throat where it had been lodged for several minutes.
“He’s killing her,” he hissed to Ean, whom he’d previously shoved away from the peephole, unwilling to share as he watched terror-struck while the king abused his daughter.
Isahn needed to act. He’d forced himself to hang back, watched, waited for George to do something. But that “something” wasn’t coming.
Her face darkened from a lack of oxygen. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t save herself.
Isahn couldn’t say how he knew, but he could tell. The time for waiting was over.
Gasparo still faced them, the spies hidden away in the wall, but his eyes bore a faraway sheen. Georgetta wasshowingher father something, the “perfect parting gift” before he took his daughter’s life. Currently, the king couldn’t see a damned thing.
It was time to act.
“Chutzpah!” he shouted the code word to Ean, no longer caring to stay quiet. Not that he’d been doing a bang-up job of it anyway.
Earlier in the day, while the friends prepared George for her dinner, they worked out a backup plan. Unfortunately, it hinged on Hildy being in the room, which she was not.Thiswas the backup plan’s backup plan, devised by Ean and Isahn alone. Isahn hadn’t been familiar with the code word, but the elf convinced him it was a good one, borrowed from the pixies.
On cue, Ean zipped into the air, nearly cracking his small head on the stone ceiling. Isahn leapt up, thick cords of water coiling around him as he prepared to storm the room. Ean shifted a section of wall forward. Stone blocks blinked away before reappearing—smashing into the vision-magicked king.
Gasparo went down hard onto one knee as Isahn stepped forward. Activity whirled around him: Ean zipping out above his head, a roar, the king spinning as he stood, hard hands clamping around Isahn’s neck. He tried to scream, but nothing could pass through the pressure of the touch magic. Not a scream. Not a breath.
Someone shrieked, a high-pitched, wavering sound that came from the right. Who was over there? The king turned to look as Isahn took his water magic to the grip on his throat, trying to rip it free. A figure in gold fabric slipped into place behind the king. Small arms raised up, and a massive amphora slammed down on Gasparo’s head with athud.
The king issued a strange groan and wavered on his feet like he was considering falling. The invisible hands choking Isahn lightened their grip, just slightly, and he sucked in a gasping breath as he shoved cords of water between the magic and his neck, creating a protective barrier. “Ean!” Isahn yelled, catching sight of the king’s somewhat cross-eyed but hardening glare.
A flicker of gold zipped through his periphery, high, near the ceiling. Isahn looked up for Eanraig, and the king followed suit, tipping his head back to see. Beside Ean, a chunk of stone hovered—then dropped.
Thecrackwas sickening, the king’s moan even worse, and his fall, so hard it vibrated through the floor tiles and up Isahn’s boots. Standing behind him, arms still raised, amphorae still in hand, a familiar-looking aide stood shaking.
“Nice work,” Isahn complimented the woman and Ean as he threw out boiling ropes of liquid to bind the shitbag king by his ankles and wrists, wrenching his limbs behind his back.
Gasparo’s struggle was inconsequential as his consciousness faded, but Isahn knew he’d be back. They had to act fast. When the king’s limbs went limp and his magic ceased, Isahn swung around in horror to find George plummeting to the floor. He sent out a wave of cushioning water moments too late, and it drenched her instead of helping as she crumpled in a sodden heap.
“Sorry! Sorry!” He raced over while displacing a pitcher full of water to ice the doors closed.
If enemy guards were alive on the other side, they’d likely have heard the commotion and come running already. Hopefully, Hildy and Burke had been able to get the upper hand, maybe Dunstan and Wynnie stepped in, too. But Isahn didn’t want to take the risk. Gasparo’s legionaries were used to ignoring shouts and cries of pain. But entire walls being blown out? That made a ruckus. The makeshift lock wouldn’t hold for long; however, it should give those outside pause while the situation within was brought to a conclusion.
Isahn skidded up to George, dropping to his knees on the polished stone floor. Holding her tight to his chest, he murmured, “You’re all right, you’re all right.”
