“In here?” She cast a disparaging glance around the room. “Where would they put a microphone?” Her eyes widened. “They wouldn’t put one in the bed, would they?”
“That is exactly what they did. And they will hear exactly what they expect to hear.”
“That’s kind of kinky,” she said absently, her gaze focusing on the blood covering his chest. “You shouldn’t have been carrying me. How badly are you hurt?”
“Very little. The injuries were carefully chosen to bleed heavily without causing any lasting damage.”
“Chosen? You mean the fight was rigged?”
“I am not familiar with the term.”
“I mean it wasn’t a real fight. You and Varga were just pretending.”
“I assure you that we were really fighting.” He rubbed his chest. His friend had a fist like granite. “But we did agree on the final result ahead of time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I was so worried.”
She had worried about him? He was a little insulted that she doubted his warrior skills, but her concern warmed his heart.
“I didn’t have the chance to tell you. Although I suspected that Relkhei might do something similar, I only found out what he was planning shortly before the match. But even if we had known sooner, I would not have told you,” he admitted.
“Why not?”
“Because your reactions needed to be genuine in order to fool Relkhei.”
An adorable scowl covered her face, but then she shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’ve never been much of an actress. And you’re really not hurt?”
“No.” He would be sore for a few days, and his knee ached as if a sarlag had stomped on it, but they were only minor injuries.
“You certainly did a good job of making it look painful.” She ran a cautious finger down his blood-streaked fur, and his body immediately responded to her touch. “Does this place have a bathing pool?”
“I believe it does, but we don’t have time for that now. We have to leave.”
“From here? But how?”
“As soon as Relkhei said I would have to meet you here, Varga and I started preparing. Come.”
He took her hand and led her into an attached bathroom. Also covered in blue glass tiles, one wall opened to the courtyard so that the bathing pool could extend outside. It was a beautiful space, and he saw Isabel cast a longing glance at the big pool. He would have enjoyed joining her there, but there was no time. Instead, he led her around the pool and behind a tiled partition to a small space outfitted with a wide array of bath accessories—and no door.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
“Servants’ entrance. Here, put this on.” The white bathing robe wouldn’t fool anyone for long, but from a distance, it would resemble a servant’s uniform. It was far too big for her, and the one he donned was too small, but they wouldn’t need them for long. “Quietly now.”
He found the hidden lever, and a panel slid aside to reveal a narrow stone corridor. As he’d hoped, no one was in sight. The servants were busy with the feast day celebrations—and not a few of them were indulging as well. Thank the gods Varga had provided him with a map of the network of passageways.
“Just a second.” Isabel darted away before he could stop her, then returned almost immediately with a wet towel. “Wipe off as much of the blood as you can. It’s too obvious.”
“I’m not exactly inconspicuous under any circumstances,” he said dryly as he obeyed. Hothians were rarely seen away from Hothrest, and his size invariably attracted scrutiny.
“No, but blood always attracts additional attention.”
“You are correct as always, my aria.”
He thrust the bloodied towel behind a stack of clean ones, then gave her a quick hug, keeping her close to his side as they entered the passageway. The cramped utilitarian space was a striking contrast to the luxury they had left behind, and he had to duck his head to avoid scraping it on the rough ceiling. But it was deserted and leading them in the direction they needed to go, and that was all that mattered.
He set a rapid pace, knowing that Isabel was half running to keep up, but time was short. He had no doubt that Relkhei had other plans for them, and he wanted to be long gone before the fight master discovered they were missing. As they reached the more populated section of the complex, he came to a halt. This would be the most difficult part.
“The kitchen and the servants’ dining hall are ahead. They should be too busy to notice us if we move quickly and quietly along the wall. Just walk like you belong there. We’re heading for the outer door. If Varga was successful, more robes will be waiting for us there.”
“Then what?”
“We blend in with the feast day crowd and head for the spaceport.”
“What if someone tries to stop us?”
“Then I will eliminate them.” He was quite serious, but from the way Isabel smiled and patted his arm, he suspected she didn’t believe him. The gods willing, she would never have to find out the extent to which he was willing to go to protect her.
He took a quick peek around the corner and saw the situation was as he had hoped. The kitchen area was a bustle of activity between the ongoing demand for refreshments and the preparation for the banquet later that night. There were several groups of unoccupied servants in the area closer to them, but they appeared to be either drinking or gambling. A large screen in one corner was displaying the latest fight.
“Stay between me and the wall,” he ordered Isabel, then strode confidently along the edge of the room toward the exit. No one paid them any attention until they were almost to the door, then a voice hailed them. He didn’t recognize the name they called out, but he threw up a casual hand and kept walking. To his relief, the
