A rich blue silk, its cream-colored sleeves gathered in delicate folds. Tiny golden hooks fastened the bodice down to the waist, where the fabric parted into a daring slit, revealing a shimmering golden petticoat beneath. A matching golden placket adorned the neckline, ensuring the gown was stunning and modest. Embroidered embellishments of golden thread wove intricate patterns down the front seams and along the sides, catching the candlelight like woven fire.
Florentine, a new staff member, had arranged my hair in an elaborate updo, securing it with countless hairpins before threading in tiny blue flowers. A few loose strands framed my face, softening the otherwise regal effect.
She stepped back, clasping her hands together. “You look beautiful, no?”
I barely recognized myself. “I suppose so.”
Florentine nodded in satisfaction. “All heads will turn when you enter the room, that is for certain.” She fussed over my gown and hair, clucking and tutting like a mother hen. “There. The master will be most pleased.”
I forced a smile. “Grazie.” I dipped into a small curtsy.
“You are most welcome.” She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from my sleeve. “You must tell me all about the masquerade when you return. I’ve heard the stories, but I will never be of a caste to attend.”
Her fingers lingered as she brushed at imaginary lint on my shoulder; a wistful look crossed her features.
Then, with a knowing smile, she said, “I will fetch the maid for you.”
“Grazie,” I repeated, though my voice felt hollow.
As the door clicked shut behind her, my nerves began to fray.
The masquerade was a lavish spectacle to Florentine, a night of opulence and privilege.
She had no idea of the monsters that lurked beneath the gilded masks.
I wasn’t going there to dance, revel, or indulge in the pleasures Costa offered his guests. I was going to retrieve the dagger and get out—alive.
But the fear gnawed at me.
The way Malik had described Costa’s “entertainment,” how he played with his Timebound or Timeborne victims, tormenting them onstage for sport, made me sick. If I were discovered, I wouldn’t just be captured. I’d be exhibited. Tortured to amuse men and women who feasted on agony as if it were art.
I couldn’t let my Timeborne abilities be exposed.
A soft knock at the door snapped me from my thoughts.
Then, the door opened.
Malik stepped inside.
I gasped—at the same moment, he drew in a breath.
He looked utterly, sinfully breathtaking.
A gold doublet clung to his torso, tailored to perfection, accentuating the planes of his body. He wore no shirt beneath it, leaving his chest partially exposed, a gleam of bronzed skin teasing through the open laces. The trousers fit snugly, leading to an obscene codpiece that left little to the imagination.
My throat went dry.
“That’s… provocative attire,” I said, quickly lowering my gaze to the tile floor.
Malik smirked, stepping closer. “And you, my love, look exquisite.” His voice dipped into something almost hungry. “Except for one thing…”
Apprehension stirred in my chest. “What’s that?”
He closed the distance between us, his fingers grazing the golden placket on my chest. He brushed back and forth, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric.
A shiver rippled through me.
Then—
