“Interesting.” George massaged her chin as she thought. “Would you do a few things for me?”
“Of course.” He grinned.
“Tell Dunstan that Isahn and I need to miss the meal, but if anyone asks, I was with him. Send food up when you have a chance, too.”
“To yer sitting room?”
“Please. And find out which rooms Peros Sarma has been assigned to.”
“I’m on it. Glad yer back.” Ean gave Isahn a chance to tuck himself away, then he zipped out into the palace.
A few minutes later, Isahn traced lazy circles over her exposed kneecap as they sat side by side upon two poufs on her sitting room floor. “Does this mean we’re eating here? Hiding away forever?”
“Yes to food, and sadly, no to hiding away forever. Another hour, perhaps? Enough time to eat, and then we’ll be off.”
“Off where? Oh!” Isahn startled as several loaded platters appeared before them.
George chuckled at his wide-eyed surprise.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”
“Help yourself.” She popped an olive into her mouth and considered just how much easier the task ahead felt with him at her side. It was ridiculous, the amount of peace he brought to her life.
Eventually, George answered his original question, “We’re off to spy on your uncle and my father, of course.”
Inhersittingroom,George pulled her macrame wall hanging to the side, and Isahn’s mouth dropped open when she clicked open the panel concealed behind the art.
“Fantastic.”
“It’s helpful. Come on.” Lacing their fingers together, she led him down a short, dark corridor, ending in a door, to which only she had the key.
“Where are we going?”
The lantern she’d instructed him to hold swayed behind her head, casting wild shadows on the hall ahead. “Into the walls.”
“Unbelievable,” he murmured, and she grinned into the gloom.
Her father’s paranoia was the original reason George had been moved from the palace proper into the lone apartment over the western wing many years before. His insistence on keeping her safe backfired spectacularly, and he’d yet to realize it. With her secret passage access and outdoor entrance, she could, for all intents and purposes, come and go as she pleased without the main palace being any the wiser.
“This is the only way into my apartment that isn’t through the corridor or the tower stairs that lead outside,” she whispered as she dragged Isahn through the door, their fingers interlocked.
He nodded, shadows dancing over his angular face in the glow of his oil lamp.
“Follow me and stay close. We can talk a bit longer. I’ll warn you when we need to be silent.”
“Got it, Princess,” Isahn replied, emphasizing her title as a legionary might saycenturion. George imagined he’d have saluted her if both his hands hadn’t been occupied.
“Pay attention to our route. You’ll want to memorize these paths.”
“Will I be in here alone?”
“I expect so. As much as I’d like to keep you tucked away entirely, the opportunity for you to move like a ghost during the Great Assembly... it’s too good to pass up.”
“Excellent.” He sounded genuinely excited at the prospect of spying.
A man after my own heart.
As they moved through the dark, narrow corridor, George pointed out several important turns and doorways. Isahn said he hoped he could catalog them all properly, or at the very least make it back to George’s apartment without dying alone in the walls. She shoved him with her magic for that one and promised him he’d not be dying in the secret halls.
