"You're too stunned to speak," Seris whispered, releasing Reth's collar.
She examined him. "Why are you wearing that?" Her gaze fell on his rumpled shirt and tatty servant boots.
"And the makeup. it doesn't look quite right."
"Uh—"
In response, steps came from close by.
Seris tensed, and then she snatched at his wrist. "Come along," she breathed.
She dragged him to a half-open door. The ancient wood groaned, but she did not desist. She opened it and pulled him in.
It was dark and dusty. There was a broken chair in the corner, and shredded sheets on the ground. Evidently deserted.
"Who owns this room?" Reth questioned, resting against the wall.
"No clue," Seris grumbled, glancing through the door slit before closing it softly.
The air reeked of age. A weak sliver of light illuminated the silver mask in her hand. Reth remained motionless, dripping wet and hunched over in his crumpled disguise.
