Sil nods slowly. “The stronger the motivation, the stronger the Player.”
I swallow, my throat tight. “I’m angry.” At whom and for what, I’m not sure. At everything. For so many reasons. “I’m so,soangry.” And I want it—need it—to stop.
Somewhere below, the Playhouse doors slam shut. I look to the window, and my insides twist at the sight of Jude being led out of the Playhouse, Eleutheraen chains binding his arms to his torso. An army of fifteen uniforms escorts him down the steps. He doesn’t fight them.
All I can think is,You know my name.
RIVEN: “They’ve come for both of us, then.”
SIL: “I’ll argue your defenses. The plague you brought—”
I turn. “Plague?”
The word weighs on my chest, the sheer impossibility of it too heavy and jarring. The Players have a long history of horrors called down on cities that angered or betrayed them. The Laughing Plague made witnesses laugh until their vocal cords tore. The Dancing Plague, a punishment that caused mortals to dance until they died of exhaustion. ButIwouldn’t have brought anything like that. I couldn’t have.
I watch Sil’s face, waiting for the assurance that I didn’t hurt anyone.
A flash of memory crashes through my mind, like recalling a nightmare. That woman—that woman with the blond hair, the blood…
I have hurt someone.
Just as fast, it hits me. Not a nightmare. All of it real.Galen. Galen is—
SIL: “The papers are calling it the Dark Days Plague.”Darkness. That illusion I called down.
RIVEN: “How far?” I try to remember, but my memories keep slipping, blurring like I’m watching them through a stranger’s eyes. I brace a hand on the wall, steadying myself. “How far did it spread?”
Sil hesitates before answering. “It didn’t cross Paraskenia’s border, so we can spin it as a defense. The law allowed them to arrest Jude—and do nothing else.” Sil eases to the window and peeks outside while I focus on keeping the bile from rising in my throat. I stare at my hands, unsure how they could have done such an awful thing. “The trial will be speedy. The council can do many things, but nothing can disrupt the Great Dionysia.”
Great Dionysia?Somehow, even the mention of the competition I’ve falsely enrolled in feels ridiculous in all of this.
Sil reaches into his breast pocket, plucking a small vial from within, its contents obscured by the tinted glass. It reminds me of something. I press a hand over my pocket. Galen tucked something inside it. Before—before…
It’s still there, I conclude, feeling the outline of a vial. Though I don’t pull it out in front of Sil, resolving to check later.
SIL: “Alistaire.”
I blink at him, dazed, but notice the concern that shimmers across his face as he flicks the cap off the tinted bottle. “This grieves me, too. But I need you in control if you’re to stand before the council.”
I wrinkle my nose at the offering. “What’s in it?”
“Eleutheraen gold.”
I back away, as if he backhanded me. Trails of gold stain my path. It occurs to me with no small level of discomfort that this must have been how Jude felt.
SIL: “Diluted! It contains hardly a drop. I promise it won’t hurt you. I only need you to come a little further back off your bridge.”
RIVEN: “I thought you said Playersthriveon their motivation.” I sneer at him.
It hits me a moment too late that I’ve admitted it out loud: I’m turning into one of them.
SIL: “They do. But when it becomesgreaterthan them, a Player is no more than a servant to their driving force.”
Is that what happened?Did something elsetake control of me?
I draw a glance at my hands. At the gold running so bright through my veins, it shines through my skin. At this rate, the Craft living and breathing inside will eat me alive before I can do anything. I need to live long enough to finish this.
Because I don’t want to go home anymore. I don’t want to escape, and I don’t even want justice. Behind my eyes, pieces click together, the horrible beginnings of a plan.
