Isahn slipped into Georgetta’s place when she walked away and gave him a nod. He said nothing to the disgraced king, didn’t even look him in the face. He only grabbed the back of the outgoing monarch’s head and yanked, exposing his neck beneath his pointed beard.
With a single unceremonious slice, like slaughtering a cow, it was done.
Isahn dropped the hold on his magic. The knife, the bindings on the dead king, the water drenching Georgie, it all vanished.
Silence reigned for several long seconds.
Georgetta returned to Isahn’s side, wrapping her small, warm hand around his.
“I’ll clean up in here,” Ean offered, breaking the preternatural quiet. A softtinkleaccompanied a blanket popping up mid-air and drifting down to cover the dead king.
“Is it done? Is he really gone?” The aide stood in the corner, craning her neck to look at the body on the floor.
“It’s done, Helena,” George confirmed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’ve been wanting to do that for three years. Thankyoufor the opportunity to fight back.”
“You’re safe now. It’s done.”
Isahn had a feeling George said those words to herself as much as to the other woman. Pulling Georgie in for a strength-lending hug, he whispered for her alone, “I love you. You did it. You’re safe.”
WhenGeorgewascomposed,Isahn dropped the icy magic that still jammed the lock, melting it into an airborne blob he let splash to the floor. There were bigger messes, bigger concerns.
Georgetta inhaled deeply. On a slow exhale, she drew back her shoulders, stepped in front of Isahn, and turned to face the door. “I’ve invited them in.”
Her back was bloodied, emeraldstolahalf torn to shreds, hair a tangle of unruly curls and unwinding braids. A dried rivulet of blood ran down the back of her bruised neck. She was a wreck, a perfect, beautiful, regal mess.
Pride crawled up Isahn’s throat, and he blinked back the wetness blurring his vision.
The doors swung open, giving entry to a silent rush of their friends. Dunstan, Wynnie, Hildy, Burke, even Adda flooded the room. Dunstan, who’d been paired with Helena at that terrible banquet several weeks back, crossed to her and clasped her hands, speaking softly as he checked her over—though he looked the worst of their pair. Hil and Burke were spattered in blood, too.
Adda paused to lock the doors, and they all stumbled around a bit, taking stock of the situation, of the damage to the room and the people in it. Hildy took control, ushering everyone into position, forming a sort of audience before Isahn and George.
“Is he actually dead?” Burke asked.
Hildy exhaled a long breath of air.
“Wow.” Wynnie blinked.
“I can’t believe it.” Ceadda shook his head.
“You’ve done it.” Dunstan tore his eyes off the body first, his arm slung around Helena’s shoulder as he shifted his focus to a disheveled George, who stood straight-backed and proud, watching over her friends.
One after the other, everyone turned their gaze to her. Awe, adoration, hope, and love brimmed in their eyes.
Isahn stepped up to stand by her side.
Ean fluttered over, moving slowly, deliberately, by his standards. He stopped and stood on alectus.
Hildy cleared her throat, a quiet proclamation. It was a cue none had ever practiced, yet they all knew what to do.
Hildy lowered herself first, then Burke, Dunstan, Helena, Wynnie, Adda, and Ean on the sofa. He was so very tiny, Isahn supposed his added height wouldn’t be considered a slight.
Isahn dropped down on one knee, too; the second time he’d done so before this woman. He honestly couldn’t say which situation was more heart-stoppingly meaningful. Probably this.
Everyone inhaled the monumental moment, basking in the shift.
Isahn wasn’t going to break the silence, but he did reach up to grab Georgie’s hand, planting a firm kiss on its back.
