“Well, that certainly raised the temperature,” King Gualtiero mused, earning laughter from the crowd. His gaze returned to Gosto. “As for your bond... I’ll decide after midnight.”
Mockery dripped from every word.
“Until then, enjoy yourselves,” he added, passing his glass to a servant and descending from the podium. Anselmo followed, smirking.
“What does that mean?” I whispered. “What now?”
Gosto exhaled slowly, still holding my wrist. “Now they watch us. After midnight, Gualtiero will decide whether we live or die.”
He gently examined the bite, concern clouding his features. “Let’s find a quieter place.”
He guided me out of the ballroom into a secluded alcove with plush couches and small tables. My eyes widened as we stumbled upon Fosco.
He smirked at first, but when he noticed the
