“There’s nothing I can do unless I want to be branded as a Timeborne.” He ran a hand over his face, then grinned. “I’ll say it’s wine.”
Then his gaze flicked to me.
“Take off your bodice.”
I stiffened. “What? No!” My hands instinctively clutched the fabric at my chest.
“Olivia, you’re bloodier than I am. At least one of us has to look like we weren’t in a fight to the death with Raul’s henchmen. If you blend in, you can provide a distraction.” His smirk deepened.
“Damn it!” I muttered.
Gritting my teeth, I yanked off my bodice and shoved the blood-soaked garment into a drawer.
I only hoped we’d be long gone before Raul found it, along with the bodies below.
Roman cracked the door and peered into the hallway. “It’s time to go. This only works if we act completely inebriated—swaying, slurring, making a spectacle of ourselves. We need everyone to see us leaving. We have to sell it.”
“Wait! Our masks!” I snatched them from the floor, striding to Roman and securing his in place.
He tied mine on, then stole a quick kiss. “Ready?”
I nodded.
We stepped into the corridor where the revelers had been earlier—only now, it was eerily empty.
A black-clad guard emerged from one of the rooms, fastening his fly. He stilled when he saw us. “Why aren’t you downstairs with the others?”
Roman and I exchanged a glance.
Then, with infuriating ease, Roman reached out and fondled my breast. “I wasn’t finished with her.”
I played along, sliding my hand down to his groin. “Mmm… we haven’t had enough of each other.”
The guard’s lip curled in disgust. “You were supposed to go downstairs when the bell tolled. No one is allowed to miss the main event.”
“We were just leaving,” Roman said smoothly. “But thanks for the invitation.”
The guard stepped forward, blocking our path. “No one leaves before the show is over. No one.”
He unsheathed his sword, the blade catching the dim light, and leveled it at Roman’s chest.
Roman lifted his hands in surrender, his expression easy, unruffled. “Of course. We understand. We’ll head to the event immediately.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “I’ll escort you. To make sure you find your place in the audience.”
A knot twisted in my stomach.
This was not part of the plan.
“As you wish,” Roman said, his expression unreadable.
The guard’s gaze flicked to Roman’s jacket, the bloodstains dark against the fine fabric.
Roman grinned. “It’s wine. I’m so drunk I missed my mouth.”
The guard scoffed, unimpressed. “Get moving.”
We had no choice but to comply.
