“No, Meg, that was not my reasoning.Love’s Labor’s Lostwould’ve been fun but…safe. Comedies are always safe—noteasyand not even necessarily well-received at all times. There’s a skill in translating words to actions that actually make people laugh. But so long as you’re having a good time onstage, the odds of your audience enjoying the production are high.”
“And tragedy is different?” Meg asks.
“By definition. We have to strike a balance—an understanding of your characters that reaches the audience beyond the surface. You want them sitting on the edge of their seat, wondering which heartstring you’re going to sever next, even if they’re intimately familiar with the source being pulled from. We want tears, passion, and people clutching their guts, wondering why we put them through such hell.”
The class falls silent, staring back at me.
Fair. I feel a bit out of sorts. Since the night Elle broke into my apartment and we were almost found out, I haven’t been myself. Beckett disappeared at that party for several hours and came back drunk after Elle left, bleeding from a scar he’d somehow torn open. He didn’t tell me what happened.
Jean-Louis called the morning after to check in, and I still have this sneaking suspicion that he encouraged my brother to attend, but I didn’t ask why.
No point when the fucker lies through his teeth 80 percent of the time.
“Ms. Anderson?” I quip after a moment, turning to where she sits next to Lexington, behind Meg and Percy. “You don’t normally let me get through an entire sentence without interruption, much less multiple paragraphs. You have nothing to add?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “You’re the professor. The students are supposed to trust your judgment, right?”
My pulse thumps heavily in my throat, and I hold her gaze even though I can tell she’s annoyed with me. “Glad we’ve finally come to that conclusion.”
Elle scoffs, leaning forward to whisper something in Percy’s ear.
I clear my throat, nostrils flaring as scalding hot pain lances my chest.
Sabrina raises her hand. “I’m curious—how many votes didOthellowin by?”
“Enough.”
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything more.
“All right, break into pairs. We’re doing repetition exercises so you all can stop overthinking my decisions.” A couple students glance at the front, but I actively avoid following their stares. “And remember—audaces fortuna juvat!”
They repeat the phrase, as has become custom anytime I introduce Latin to them at this point in the semester. I watch as they start grouping off, some hanging out in the aisle while others migrate toward the orchestra pit or take the stage behind me.
Elle grabs Lexington by the sleeve of his maroon knit swearer, dragging him toward the back, and the stabbing sensation from before reverberates in my chest.
Fuck me, she’s beautiful. Her dark brown hair is tied back today, giving me an unobstructed view of the slender curve ofher cheeks and the plush heart shape of her lips as they curl for someone who isn’t me.
I’m not used to envy stirring in my gut. I grew up with the ability to get whatever I wanted, though it was rare I sought much. Doing so made my parents fight, as if my desires reminded them I existed, and I didn’t want to adversely affect my siblings. Peace of mind was more important than doing what I wished, and after Bellamy’s death, it was tantamount to ensuring Beckett didn’t get roped into the dark underbelly of the Duponts’ legacy.
It happened anyway, despite my suffering. Now I’m not sure what the fucking point of denial is at all, especially with a woman who could be Aphrodite herself standing in the same room.
What I’ve told her is true—I don’t want to lose this job. Sometimes, it’s the only connection I have left to my sister, and it wouldn’t get me out of the clutches of Death’s Teeth. If anything, they’d take the sudden vacancy in my life as an invitation to force me into Incarnate’s role, and I don’t want that.
Elle’s face lights up as she and Lexington begin their exercise, and it strikes me somewhere deep in the core of my being how animated she becomes. She’s always fairly free with her expressions, but something truly sparks when she’s acting, like she’s this fire consuming the role completely. The mask of someone else slips into place effortlessly, making me wonder if we’re more alike than I realized.
It happens like the flip of a switch, and I’d find it unsettling if it wasn’t so goddamn hot.
I tear my gaze away, focusing on the other students.
But I feel Sabrina’s stare no matter who I look at, and I tell myself that’s how she’s always been, not that she’s actually suspicious. Even if I don’t fully believe it.
Beckett hangshis head as he sits on the stoop outside my apartment, his hoodie pulled up and cinched tight around his face. He doesn’t say anything as I approach, though I can smell the alcohol on his breath anyway.
I lean against the balcony railing and look out at the Elysian Dorms, wondering which one Elle’s in as if I haven’t memorized the exact floor and unit.
Not that I’m planning to do anything with that knowledge. It just happened to be in her file, which I’ve reviewed dozens of times since she showed up in my class the first day.
“You look like hell,” I tell Beckett.
