Page 32 of Ruling Destiny

In a blur of blond curls and powder-blue gown, she leaves us behind without so much as a backward glance.

Oliver looks after her, shaking his head.

“I almost feel sorry for Nash.” Finn laughs. “You too, Jago.”

“Elodie’s free to do as she wants.” Jago shrugs. “As am I.” With a devilish grin, he also leaves us behind.

“Um, excuse me, but is this really happening?” Mason looks between me, Oliver, and Finn, his brown eyes wide with a combination of shock, utter delight, and absolute disbelief at the situation he finds himself in.

“It’s real,” I say. “How do you feel?”

“Honestly?” He flattens a hand against his belly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

The second he says it, Finn takes a giant leap back, and Oliver steps forward, grasping hold of Mason’s arm.

“You okay?” Oliver keeps a close watch over Mason’s face as his own pinches with worry. “Did you mean like, sick in a good way, like from all the excitement, or sick like—” He nods toward Finn, who looks like he’s about to be sick at the thought of Mason getting sick.

Mason places his hands on his knees and takes a series of short, ragged breaths. Once he’s steadied himself, he looks around the grounds and says, “I feel like I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head and returns to full height. “I mean, this is legit? Like, we’ve actually landedin a whole other century?”

Unfortunately, during that last bit, his voice rang a little too loudly, attracting the notice of a nearby couple taking a stroll.

“No.” Finn laughs, plastering a tight grin onto his face. “Notanothercentury. Still the same old 1813.” He tips his hat to the couple, who are now openly staring, as we hold our collective breaths until they move on.

“Mason—” I lean toward him, keeping my voice to a whisper. “Are you going to be okay, because if not—”

I leave that last part unspoken, since I honestly have no idea what I’ll do if he can’t get it together. With Elodie and Jago gone, it’s not like we can just pop back to Gray Wolf. We’re stuck here for the duration, or until Elodie returns with the clicker—whichever comes first.

“I need you to answer something,” Mason says, turning my way. “And it’s important, so be honest.”

My gaze meets his. “Always,” I say.

“Am I safe here?”

I hesitate, but only because I’m not exactly sure what he means.

“As a Black, gay male, am I at risk showing up at a party in 1813 England?”

A sudden tightness seizes my core. It’s something I hadn’t considered, and I’m deeply ashamed at failing to recognize the risk Arthur has exposed him to.

I’m about to respond when Finn cuts in. “While it’s definitely not safe to reveal that part of yourself, there are plenty of us—always have been, always will be. But unfortunately, our rights are at risk in the modern world, never mind here. As for being a Black man, Regency England was far more diverse than movies depicting that period would have you believe. Also—just look at yourself. And I meanreallylook at yourself—in all your magnificent finery.”

Mason glances down at his clothes, then returns his gaze to Finn.

“You are above reproach. No one will dare mess with you. Not when you look like the wealthiest man in this whole damn place. If anything, women will throw themselves at you. You won’t believe the lengths they’ll go to claim your attention. And we arrived just in time.”

“The trick,” Oliver says, “is to slip in when the party is well underway. Drinks are flowing, inhibitions are receding—”

“In other words,” Finn says, “the guests are all shit-faced.”

Mason’s own face pulls tight, like he’s on the verge of feeling sick again. “And…that’s a good thing?”

Finn breaks into a grin. “It’s a wonderful thing—a splendid thing!”

“This party is the kickoff to the Season,” Oliver says. “Which means all the women will be wearing their finest, trying to attract the eye of a rich gentleman like yourself. And the fact that they’ll have downed a couple cocktails makes them all ripe for the picking.”

“For the picking?” Mason looks confused, as well as deeply disturbed.

“They’ll be so busy trying to enchant you into a proposal, they won’t even notice when you relieve them of their jewels.”

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