I’m sorry. George knew she’d made the best possible choice, though she had to mask it behind harsh words.
Isahn placed a palm reassuringly on her lower back, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He understood what she’d done.
Wynnie was next, and a selection of male aides in their short goldtogaswere paraded out before her. Luckily, the king didn’t ask George for input. He selected a tall, broad man with black hair cropped close to his head, a common punishment for newly enslaved mages.
George lay stiffly on thelectus imus, running her fingers up and down Isahn’s back, quietly counting the bumps in his spineas she attempted a show of casual enjoyment. He didn’t seem to mind the attention, and it calmed her significantly. Several other high-ranking viceroys and their aides filled in the rest of the long series of sofas that comprised the far left set of seats.
Something punched into George’s inner arm, and she jolted, before realizing what it was. It earned her a curious look from Isahn.
“Dunstan,” she whispered as she dipped her head at the guard in question. “He was saying thank you with a touch.”
George’s hatred for her father thudded in her chest, tempered by the reminder she was surrounded by friends and allies.
Across the large chamber, on thelectus summus, Dunstan said something to Helena, who lay at his side. She seemed calmer, and George hoped she’d made the right choice on her behalf.
Wynnie and her aide were positioned in the middle of thelectus mediusthat ran the length of the space between the left and right couches.Between Dunstan and Wynnie, and currently plucking a grape from the mouth of a disgruntled-looking woman, lay Peros Sarma.
Isahn grumbled something unkind about his traitorous uncle, and George shushed him with a gentle hand.
“Behave,” she whispered, pinching him on the bottom.
With atinkleof elf magic, the first course appeared on the enormous table between the longlecti. And the terrible festivities began in earnest.
Unexpectedly, during thegustatio, Gasparo tinged the side of his wine glass and demanded the room’s attention. Shooting a smile that was nothing short of a sneer in George’s direction, her father broke from his typical schedule of a vaguely normal meal followed by bizarre, forced dancing, and announced that entertainment would begin early.
Fuck. She never should’ve told him she intended to leave before the dancing.
The tyrant began calling up couples to perform. True to form, he started with a viceroy and aide on the far side of the room. He’d inevitably work his way around and end with George and herpetduring the final course.
The first people called to the front were a young freedman and his assigned aide. In one of Gasparo’s standard reversals, he made the man sink to his hands and knees, then instructed the aide to climb on his back. Using him as a pedestal, she was forced to serenade the room while the freedman crawled about.
Several guests cheered, others looked uncomfortable despite their best efforts to hide an “unsavory reaction” from the king.
“This is bizarre,” Isahn whispered, tipping his head up to speak quietly into her hair.
George placed a small kiss on his adorably different mouth. It was still Isahn, though, despite his looks, and she was so grateful he was beside her. “I think we’ll be called up during dessert.”
He balked.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you. I’d hoped we’d be gone before this began, so I didn’t dwell on it.” She grabbed a few olives and popped one in her mouth before feeding another to Isahn, being sure to languidly trail her oil-coated fingertips over his lips before licking them clean with her tongue.
“What will he make us do?” Isahn gritted out, clearly reacting positively to George’s actions. It was only half an act, after all.
“Not much worse than this,” she whispered. “I hope.”
“You hope?” Isahn’s question was legitimate, though he added a flirtatious rasp to his tone to hide its true meaning when he asked.
George forced out a giggle before she leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “If he’s not pleased with the reaction of his guests, he’ll up the ante on what he asks the performers to do.”
“Oh.”
She murmured an, “Mhm,” while sucking on Isahn’s olive-toned earlobe—for the show.
The king called Peros and his aide next. Isahn stiffened on thelectusas his uncle drew near.
“You’re my good Salskanan pet, aren’t you?” George tried her best to remind Isahn that he was fully concealed behind a false exterior. His uncle would be none the wiser.
“Yes, Your Majesty, how can we serve you?” Sir Sarma groveled.
