I will not think on anything,” Jude says, but his tone weakens, “if it means losingyou.” His hands cup my face, and his eyes lock on mine, bright with determination. “Riven, listen to me. Sil will protect his Players long before he protects the roles we play. He’s right to.”
I almost laugh, trying to read his gaze. “What doesthatmean?”
His hands are warm, but his tone ices over. “It means if it comes down to losing your character now, or losingyouforever, I will skin that costume off you myself.”
Act III: Scene XX
Jude’s words pierce my spine; I’m unsure if he could mean such a thing. I pull back far enough to search his eyes. He tries to school his features, but there’s an edge he can’t hide—dark and unforgiving.
I will skin that costume off you myself.
The air in the common room seems to dissolve through the stained glass windows as I try and fail to pull in a breath. Until a shout mercifully shatters the silence.
“Out of my way, Jude,” calls Arius, rushing from the hall with a tray of what looks like salves and fresh bandages. It frees us both from the agonizing stretch of quiet as Jude moves to make room and Arius kneels at my side.
ARIUS: “Don’t!” He swats my hand away from inspecting the gash above my knee. “You don’t want it to spread. It’s already in your blood.”
I roll my eyes. That ship sailed the day I was marked. But I don’t argue as Arius pushes the gauzy folds of my costume from the arrow wound and checks the laceration with the gentleness of a seasoned nurse, snapping at Jude to give him space.
Jude is still staring at me like he can’t believe what I’ve suggested. I look away, focusing on Arius instead.
Because I can’t believe what he just said, either.
But when I blink, I don’t see Arius at all. I recognize him for every face he’s ever worn. An old friend. A gifted healer who’s sewn me up a thousand times before.
ARIUS: “Definitely diluted gold. You got lucky.” He flashes me an encouraging smile.
“Lucky?” I laugh hoarsely and bite back a comment about my own family not splurging enough on pure Eleutheraen gold to kill me. Though the discomfort pulsing up my leg is still enough to make me consider snatching an axe from the wall to chop it off.
Arius presses over the wound to stanch the blood. A furious string of curses rises in my throat as I grip the sides of the chaise, clamping my teeth together as the stampede that is my cast parades out of the hall.
TITUS: “Gods above! Ay, Riven, did you know you’ve got a little scratch on your leg there?” He jokes, but his lips have gone white, and I sense the fear rattling beneath his tone. In every life we’ve lived together, in every new role, Titus has numbed the worst parts with debauchery and humor.
It’s like I’m seeing them all clearly for the first time, memories fighting to the surface. Faces I’ve known and loved, words I’ve said and regretted. When we Players were pulled from the well, our forms came full with humanity’s deepest struggles and emotions.
The substance of all great stories.
JUDE: “Where’s Sil gone?”
MATTIA: “Still out there, filling their heads with pretty words about Riven’sgrand sacrifice.” I can hear the eye roll on her tongue. She’s keeping her distance at the door with a solemn frown on her lips.
That fourth wall cracks a little more as I stare at her, catching a glimpse of one of my oldest friends—and greatest rivals.
I should stop thinking about this. It’s making it worse. It’s bringing my cast’s true names to my thoughts. I could shatter everything they know of themselves, and of me, with a word.
PARRISH: “May I see?” We all startle as Parrish and her anklets jingle forward. “I’ve never seen an Eleutheraen injury up close before. Titus wouldn’t let me.”
TITUS: “Be grateful for that.”
I suppress a smile at her curiosity. She’s worn more costumes than any of us, never placed in any singular role for long. She gets bored so easily.
ARIUS: “It’s a rude thing to ask, Parrish.”
JUDE: “Never mind that. Come look, Parrish. You might as well see what we’re strong enough to survive.” Jude clears his throat, catches my eye. “And youwill, Riven.”
Jude. I know him better than the rest. I’ve loved him, his every song, every story, more than any.
“You’ll survive this,” he says again.
