Hazel’s POV
Before I could even ask what the hell he meant, Dimitri yanked off his jacket and threw it over my head and shoulders like a cloak.
“Dimitri—what are you doing?” I sputtered, the fabric smelling like leather and sweat.
He didn’t answer. Just grabbed my hand and started dragging me back inside the palace.
“Don’t look up,” he hissed under his breath as we passed a pair of servants in the corridor. They glanced our way, curious, but Dimitri kept his head down and pulled me faster.
We didn’t stop until he shoved open a random side door, yanked me inside, and slammed it shut behind us. The room was small—it looked like some kind of storage closet. Dust motes danced in the thin strip of light coming through the high window.
I spun to face him, jacket slipping off my shoulders.
