Jude raises an eyebrow at me, and I avert my gaze to the torn scarf I used to wrap around his injured arm before we came in here. It does little to stanch the golden blood but at least hides it.
“In for a nasty surprise, those monsters…”
The words catch our attention, muttered from one man to another at a nearby table. My eyes fall on the newspaper between them. It’s the same headline Dorian shoved in my face. The one proclaiming my faceless fame and Jude’s mysterious disappearance.
Jude’s eyes narrow at the paper, catching up.
“How can they be sure you’re missing?” I whisper to him. “Just because you didn’t show at the stage door last night?”
“A bit more complicated than that,” he says lowly. “Sil and I were to meet with the council this morning to begin to discuss the terms of our new reentry. You can imagine they might have noticed when I didn’t show.”
“Heard he was sighted near the border just yesterday,” the man with the beard goes on. Guess wewereseen. “Could be anywhere by now, butgods.A Player on the loose…”
Another man laughs cruelly. “Hell of a show, once they catch him. They’ll have to find themselves a new Lead Player afterthattrial,I tell you.”
“Little point in a trial,” challenges the third. “It’s in the godsdamned law. They’ll be in their rights to execute him. Nowthere’sentertainment I might pay to see.”
Jude sets his drink down on the table, hard.
“Can’t get far. If he really came this way, they’ll catch him before long. They’ve finally started confiscating the mirrors the damned Revelers brought in.” The man taps the newspaper on the table. “Imagine that. Executed in his own city.”
“Watch them try and replace him with this faceless bitch the papers keep going on about.”
My hackles rise, and Jude slowly turns a look over his shoulder.
That anger will be the death of you.
Before I can think better of it, I place a hand over Jude’s, as if to plead,Don’t. Do. Anything.
His hand is ice-cold. We found a creek for him to wash the blood off his hands, but I can still imagine the stains there, an unsettling reminder that he isn’t all vanity and stage bows. Which is something I’d really prefer not to witness in this tavern right now.
“Is that true?” I say under my breath. “That if you leave the Playhouse, they can—”
“Yes,” he says. “That law is signed in Eleutheraen gold. I’m not supposed to leave—I’m not supposed to even beableto leave—but that’s between me and my contract with Sil.” He presses his fingers to his temples, like his head has started aching. “You can thank the damnedPeacemakerfor that.”
My heart drops as I school my features at the mention of my father. Of course, I know all of this—ensuring the Players stay caged in the Playhouse is a legacy tied to my family name.
But for the first time, the odd nature of it hits me. “Why would Sil sign into such a thing? Trapping his own Players.” It doesn’t make sense.
Jude is staring at his wine like it owes him money. “That,” he says, tone hardening, bitter, “is agreatquestion.” He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly waiting for me to do the math.
But I think I know. “Because the law was never for the benefit of mortals,” I breathe. “It’s for Sil’s. He doesn’t want any of you being able to leave. Under threat of your lives.”
I reach desperately for the part of me that hates Jude. The hatred instilled since I was young. The part of me sharpened and ready to drag him before the council in exchange for leverage and my freedom.
But my anger and hatred are crushed under the weight of knowing that Jude could have run back to the Playhouse after escaping me. He could have made it back last night, before the council could file his absence. He chose to track my kidnappers and me in the opposite direction instead.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, “for coming back.”
He must have done it because he wants out of the Great Dionysia. Wants to use me. To exploit me to get through the casting call. He’s a selfish Player and that’s how—
“Loath as you are to admit it, Alistaire, you are one of us now.”
I’m not sure what startles me more. That it didn’t occur to me Jude could have his own moral code or the implication that I’m a castmate to be looked after.
Players kill for three reasons,I remember.A blow to their ego, a threat to their cast, or, on rare occasion, for pure spectacle.
“Right,” I say, amused and maybe a little unnerved by the idea. “You won’t leave a castmate behind.”
