GeorgeandIsahndroppedtheir veil tokens into the communal basket before disembarking theactuaria. One of the first changes she’d made after assuming the throne five months earlier was to ensure all tokens remained on the boats. There were plenty available now that they were out of the hands of the few.
Isahn stepped down the plank first, then turned to offer his hand to her. “My wife, my queen, may I assist you?” He winked, sunlight glinting off his shaggy golden hair.
“You may. My husband, my king.” She accepted his palm.
“Consort,” Isahn added, but his voice was drowned out by the people of the city cheering for her. He wasn’t who they wanted, and that was perfectly fine with him—as he reminded her regularly.
Though their fingers remained entwined, Isahn, the kingconsort, stayed half a step behind her while they proceeded up the docks. Smiling and laughing, they put on a good show, waving at the citizens who’d come out in greeting. A secret tension thrummed between them, strongest at the point wheretheir bodies met. Isahn and George squeezed one another’s hands back and forth as they offered continuous support.
It was a big day.
Potentially.
They’d been handfasted four days prior at a small ceremony attended by all of their Domossan friends and several visiting Selwassans. Lady Solaelia Tarcadu, Isahn’s sister, was there. She planned to stay for a month before making her return to Midlake. Lord Kas Kahoth and Lady Nesrina Kiappa, the duke, and a very pregnant Duchess of Stormhill, traveled north with King Ehmet Hethtar and his twelve-year-old twins. It was a lovely affair.
Isahn got his coronation out of the way three days before. The event was extravagant, much like Georgetta’s. But the “gods” gave their blessing by bowing to the new king as he made his way around the circle. Then he’d joined her on the central dais, and she’d placed the crown on his head.
Where the queen’s crown was a circlet with eight intricate points that represented each of the deities, his was a simple silver and gold wreath of finely crafted olive branches that swept around his head. They made a stunning pair... so stunning in fact, she’d told him to fuck her in front of the mirror while they wore their regalia.
Two days earlier, they’d attempted to bring down the veil from inside Hepikoru—and failed. Yesterday, they’d taken the boats beneath it, into the mist, and tried there, only to fail again. Today, they were all meeting up in Nowosmont to have a go at the other side.
Based on what Ean gleaned from the ancient king’s entry in the ancient queen’s diary, they’d become convinced “only one must fell the veil” was a crafty reference to one type of magic being needed to take it down: chaosweaving. Though they’d been loath to admit it, it seemed Gasparo was correct.
Swallowing her pride, Queen Georgetta invited every known chaosweaver in the land to attend the coronation of Isahn Yaranbur, formerly of Selwas. In addition to a lone family of three from the Vinistraz principality, supposedly the only people in all of Gramenia with the rare power, there was the Selwassan royal family, Lady Nesrina Kiappa, and her aging aunt who’d come from a small village on the southern shore of Selwas.
Isahn and George moseyed up toward the back of the gathering group, where the young Selwassan royals were discussing something of the utmost importance. Ean, who’d ridden out with the Domossan king and queen, buzzed near the fair-haired young princess and her brunet brother.
“Look at howweehe is compared to us,” Princess Adella said to her twin, regarding Eanraig, who was all of two feet away.
“First of all, Princess, don’t ye be using my words against me,” Ean began. He’d called her a “wee bonnie lass” when he’d first seen the similarly aged royal.
She’d taken it as an insult.
“And second, if I were as big as ye mages, surely ye realize I’d dominate ye?”
Princess Della whipped a decidedly Ean-shaped doll out of thin air using her chaos magic. “Bu’ ye’re naw,” she mocked his accent, then punted the doll as high as she could. When it smashed to the ground, several yards away, it dissipated into thin air with apop.
Isahn sputtered out a laugh, and George grinned.
“Can you imagine that?” Prince Ataht mused. “Or, what if you could get big and small at your choosing?”
Eanraig narrowed his eyes at the prince. “Do ye consider yerself a historian?”
“A what?” Ataht inquired. “I don’t like school.”
“Never mind.” Ean buzzed away.
“Are you ready to begin, Your Majesty?” Hildy approached, wearing a tentative smile. As always, the formal address meant Viceroy Segreto was feeling the seriousness of the situation.
George offered a quick nod, then proceeded to the front of the group. Swallowing her trepidation, she made remarks for the third time in as many days, reminding the gathered mages and all the watching citizens that it was their last attempt with the chaosweavers, but if it didn’t work, they’d continue their search for a solution.
Somewhat steeled against the possibility of things going poorly, the chaosweavers began. Their technique, according to Lady Kiappa, was to try to unweave the power veiling the true capital. It hadn’t worked yet, but they were willing to try again.
George could almost feel the energy thrumming in the air when a flash of gold burst across the sky. A dome. The veil. Alight and shimmering from the earth below, it stretched toward the clouds. Through writhing ropes of gold, the New Mountains could still be seen, flickering in the distance, erupting from the ground within the dome.
Onlookers gasped in awe.
“I thought they were fucking with us!” someone called out, and hesitant laughter rippled through the crowd.
