Moments later,

Author

She moved along the eastern wall, using the crowd as cover. The target was still at his table, still reading. She needed a flanking position. Something with an exit behind her and his back in front of her. A server passed with a tray of bloodwine. She slipped behind him, using his bulk to block the sightlines from the center table.

She was three feet from the alcove when a hand closed around her wrist.

"You're in the wrong quadrant for what you're planning," a voice said. Low. Warm. Close enough that she felt the words against her neck, against the bare skin the gown didn't cover....