The retreat from the hedge maze was a masterclass in controlled panic.
As soon as they crossed the threshold into the safety of the palace's East Wing, Kaia grabbed Beckett's wrist and dragged him into the nearest empty parlor.
"Close the door," she hissed, abandoning all pretense of a dignified limp as she practically dove toward the large gilded mirror above the fireplace.
Beckett slammed the heavy oak doors shut, leaning against them with his chest heaving. "What is it? Did he see Silas? Was I walking too... affectionately? I tried to swagger. I really did."
"Your swagger was fine, Beckett," Kaia said, frantically inspecting her reflection.
Aeron had been right. The thick, stucco-like foundation Victoria had forced her to apply was cracking on the left side of her neck. A distinct, violent shade of plum was peeking through the plaster, right over her pulse point.
