“You know, everyone keeps looking at me like I’m Dad.” Galen shakes his head at the absurdity of it. “Like I should know how to bargain with these monsters like he did.” He shakes his head again, leaving the rest unsaid.
Desperate to change the subject, I unfold the mysterious letter from my pocket and show it to Galen. “Any idea what this is?” I break the seal, but stall at the startled look he gives me.
“Riv,” Galen begins slowly. “That’s partly why I came home—to talk to you.” He looks like he’s about to tear the letter from my fingers. “I hoped to beat the notice here, but—”
My gaze drops down, and I scan the first line.
Riven Hesper: We regret to inform you that upon further inquiry…
“What is this?” My voice comes out sharper than I meant. Dread freezes like a block of ice in my chest as I blink, willing the words to change. To vanish.
“They’ve revoked—” I swallow, my tongue dry. “They revoked my acceptance?”
But why?The semester starts so soon.I already bought my passage to Orkestra—
I exhale. I knowwhy. I can read it all over Galen’s face.
“The university board…” Galen trails off. Like he isn’t friends with the whole godsdamned board. He was the Orkestrian Academy’s golden boy for four years. And before him, our father. “Questions were raised about how safe your attendance would be.”
“Safe for me,” I ask through my teeth, “or safe for the other students?” I mean the words, but I don’t mean them to come out of my mouth with the ferocity of a lightning bolt. “Which is it?”
Cursed by a Player.The words have followed me since I was a child. Like the Player’s magic—Craft—that poisoned me is going to spontaneously spread to anyone who gets too close. The same questions were raised in grade school until I was eventually placed on a bench on the far side of the classroom. Sometimes I felt like one of the Player statues in the District: watched from afar and rarely addressed directly. It gave me ample time to debate which is worse: to be abandoned by society or to be famously hated by it.
The former, I’ve decided.
“Both,” he admits.
My heart cracks, exposing the simmering coal at its center.
“Who.” My voice is deadly calm.
Galen stills. “What do you mean?”
“You saidquestions were raised,” I force out. That’s half the truth. My eyes flicker down to the Eleutheraen mark at the base of his throat. I bet if Galen could lie to me, he would right now. “Whoraised them?”
He presses his lips into a thin line, the truth on his tongue. “I did, Riven.”
I stare back frostily, daring him to go on.
“And I was right to. The last time I saw you, you looked—”
“What?” I interrupt. “Go on. Say it.”
He averts his eyes. For a moment, I wonder if he’s frightened of me, like the neighbor’s children who throw pebbles at my window. But when he meets my gaze again, his voice softens. “Riven, please. I know this was important to you. But you’re worse off now than the time before—and the time before that. Andnow…”
I stare down at my hands, trying to see what he sees. Long, bony fingers. Gray nails. Dark veins pucker from my wrists. About a month ago, my skin started fading to a pale stone-like hue, not dissimilar to the underbelly of a fish.
“No,” I say in blunt response.
That Playerdoesn’tget to take this, too. The Orkestrian Academy is a door to a life different from this one. With a new home. And access to the greatest library in Theatron, with probably my best chance at finding answers to what’s happened to me.
Answers towhyit hasn’t happened to anyone else.
Maybe even a chance to be recognized on my own merit. NotGalen’s sister.Notthedead Peacemaker’s daughter.
“We need to be honest about what’s happening.” Galen’s tone is steady, firm. Infuriating. “Whatever…ailmentthis is—”
“Poison. You were there. You can call it what it is.”
