The screams from the Solarium had died down to whimpers, but the chaos was still rampant.
Elian stood in the hallway, counting his assets.
[Current LP: 15][Inventory: 1x Damp Royal Towel, 1x Empty Vial of Hate Ink, 1x Rope.]
"Fifteen points," Elian muttered. "I can't buy a chloroform rag. I can't buy a teleport scroll. I have to kidnap a magically obsessed Alpha Prince with a rope and a lie."
Ambrose appeared at his elbow, looking pale. "Valdus is calling for the Royal Blacksmith. They're going to cut the ring off. Once the pain stops, the romance resumes. You have maybe twenty minutes before Cassian is back to feeding her grapes."
"I don't need twenty minutes," Elian said, his eyes sharpening. "I just need one good lie."
He grabbed a random servant who was running past with a bucket of ice.
"Give me that," Elian snapped, snatching the bucket.
He mussed his hair. He untucked his shirt. He sprinted back into the Solarium, looking frantic and out of breath.
