George makes a choice.
Itwasmid-afternoonwhenthey reached Nowosmont; the sun past its apex and the air warm around them. George stared at the big mountain to the north of the city as she bounced along on her trotting horse. Shereallydidn’t feel like going back to the capital, but the Great Assembly would start soon, and she had no choice in the matter. Father would start asking questions about her absence—if he wasn’t already.
The guards at the city gates asked a few questions about their group’s “trip to the shore,” and Hildy took the lead on responding as George pulled the haughty card and pursed her lips at the legionaries protecting town.
Finally, with a terse nod and a, “Welcome back, Princess,” they ushered her and her team, including a well-miraged Isahn, through.
The tan, paved streets were a lighter shade than when she’d left, and the buildings bolder shades of sea and sky. It was all in preparation for the dreaded annual event.This is the lastyear,George vowed, tightening her grip on the reins until her knuckles turned white from the effort.
She led them along the western edge of town, directly to Villa Senone, the winter home of Wynnie Doukas’s family. When the familiar hilltop came into view, the residence sprawling across its peak with orchards cascading away, an array of olives and grapes, she turned her face to the sun and sighed.
Luckily, Isahn interrupted her thoughts before George had to decide whether she was happy or sad to be back.
“Gods, this is sprawling. I thought Elio and Greta’s was a one-off. Do you all live in houses like this?”
Burke laughed behind them.
George glanced back, finding Hil sandwiched between the guys, as she so often was, though their trio hadn’t been talking much the past few days.
“No, we don’t. Some of us live at the palace, some of us haveinsulaein town,” Hildy answered Isahn before going back to clenching her jaw and scowling at the road.
Isahn side-eyed George with a questioning frown tugging on his lips. He’d taken to giving her that look when he wanted to know what something meant, and she found it charming.
“Insulaeare apartments, and most of the homes you saw along the way were farmsteads. This is a viceroy’s villa.”
He nodded before resuming his perusal of Villa Senone. It was enormous, though nothing compared to the palace or the fortress.
“Most homes in Domos are like villas but smaller,” she explained. “They’re usually one level with a courtyard. And up here, near the sea, they’re brightly painted, like Wynnie’s.”
“We’re not at the sea, though.”
“We’re close enough. It’s half a day’s ride north, on the other side of the mountain. And that’s Lake Loukeo.” Pointing in thedistance, she identified a sparkle of blue peeking through a gap in the hills.
He smiled, pulling her attention to his adorable dimple, before they lapsed into silence. A chorus of insects and horses sang to George, but it was still too quiet for comfort.
“What do your homes look like in Selwas?” she asked out of a persistent need to keep talking to him. They’d developed a habit of riding together during the past three days on the road. If anyone had asked, George would have claimed it was to keep an eye on the wily non-prisoner and to avoid the awkwardness of whatever was happening between Hildy and the guys.
“They’re taller, usually, and never such fun colors.” He pointed at the salmon pink walls of Villa Senone. “In Selwas, the houses are the way nature made them: gray, brown, and dull. Sometimes, someone’s really wild and whitewashes their place. Always causes an uproar.” He grinned, blue eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight, and she beamed right back, entranced. “Courtyards are uncommon. Everything we build is usually just a big, tall rectangle with loads of interconnected rooms. All enclosed. Our winters get too cold. Honestly, we should probably paint like this. It would make the gray months far less depressing.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. The homes had terracotta tiled roofs and brightly painted exteriors in yellow, orange, blue, and occasionally pink. Familiarity, it seemed, led her to overlook the vibrancy of town, or maybe it was the nature of life in the north that made the colors hard to appreciate.
“Even if it’s ugly, I’d still like to visit Selwas one day.” She probably would when she was queen for some delegation or other. But she hadn’t been there yet. Even her father hadn’t traveled to the southern kingdom in decades, instead staying holed up in his blasted capital, behind the walls of his precious palace. He much preferred to handle international politics bysending the occasional viceroy via official channels, and the frequent mindmolded spy via unofficial avenues.
Isahn chuckled. “I didn’t say it was ugly. The land is beautiful, the houses could use a bit of... pizazz.”
Their traveling party reached the wider portion of the villa’s drive, and they fanned out, riding five-abreast for the final stretch.
The large double doors to Villa Senone flung open, and Wynnie raced outside. Her sleek brown tresses flowed behind her, flapping with the fabric of herstolaas she ran toward the group. “You’re here! You’re here!” she shrieked, sandals slapping against the brick drive.
“Wynnie!” Hildy shouted back.
George waved.
“We’ve missed you!” Burke called.
Their mounts reacted differently to the whirlwind that was Wynnie Doukas: Isahn’s pranced nervously to the side, Hildy’s shied away, Dunstan’s reared—but he got her under control—Burke’s horse nickered, and George got lucky with the one who remained calm.
With reins in hand, they dismounted as Wynnie reached them. Gorgeous, as always, she flounced to a stop when she realized there was a fifth member of the group. Planting herself in front of Isahn, she fluttered her lashes, dark brown against her sandy skin.
