It would take so little effort to close the distance between us.

Wouldn’t that be the most delicious scandal to rock Potosí?

But then, of course, the universe has other ideas.

Over Ana’s shoulder, I spot a cluster of men gathering near the far doors. My body goes stiff in her arms.

She notices immediately. “What is it?”

“Cristobal,” I say into her hair, my lips moving by the curve of her ear. “And our old friend, the magistrate. He looks like he’s about to shit his pants.”

Ana begins to angle her head in the direction in which I am looking but I still her with a warning hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t. Not yet. I don’t want to arouse their suspicion. They seem … distracted.”

“Kiki, we’re hardly inconspicuous.”

She’s not wrong. We are two women, dressed in the finest gowns this ballroom has likely ever seen, proudly screaming that we are utterly enamored with one another through the language of dance.

“Fair point,” I say. “But I think they’re taking the opportunity we’ve provided them with to discuss something they want no one else to overhear.”

Ana snorts. “We do make one hell of a distraction, don’t we?”

“We do indeed.” As I watch—as subtly as I possibly can considering the circumstances—Cristobal storms out of the room, followed quickly by Magistrate de la Vega. A stern-faced footman closes the door behind them, moving to stand in front of it so that no one else can follow them through. “And it would appear they wish to take advantage. It seems they’ve a better party to attend to than this one.”

“Are we following them?” Ana asks, no longer bothering to hide her lips against my hair. What a shame. It felt so terribly nice.

I nod. “We are. And who knows? Your brand-new blade might see action before the night is through.”

“Oh, good.” Ana’s smirk makes something twist low and tight in my gut. “I was hoping I’d get to play with my new toy sooner rather than later.”

Ana

Slinking about a nobleman’s villa late at night in a ball gown without drawing attention to oneself is harder than it sounds. Or maybe it’s exactly as hard as it sounds because it sounds goddamn difficult. Following Cristobal and the magistrate as they departed the ball has proven more of a challenge than anticipated.

Now, Kiki and I are huddled against a wall outside the stables, the hems of our skirts absolutely destroyed by mud and other substances I would rather not think about.

The men are around the corner, whispering in hushed tones too quiet to hear. At one point, the magistrate gives a startled shout before he is silenced by a harsh but indecipherable word from Cristobal.

That we have made it this far is impressive.