When I do sleep, I dream of Mount Eleutherae. At its top, a well, bleeding gold.
Act III: Scene XXII
The rest of the cast is already gone by the time I exit my dressing room, tucking locks of dark hair back with little gold pins as I head for the stairs to join them outside.
In all honesty, I’d hoped to avoid the celebrations altogether, until Titus very helpfully pointed out I can “be boring when I’m dead tomorrow.” A comment that made Jude’s eyes briefly flash to mine. Then he left the room rather quickly.
I hate knowing the ending.
Heading down the stairs to the lobby, I lean over the railing and catch an obscured glimpse of the festivities outside through the stained glass. Though I’m less concerned about the big party than I am about what’s happening beyond it. Somewhere inside the stone behemoth sequestered in the second ring of the District, Jude and Sil are convening with the council.
A brief formality, Sil said. Before the Playhouse’s newfound freedom is final. Though they left several hours ago and haven’t returned.
Jude and I haven’t spoken since yesterday. And the look of warning he gave me before he left—and the blatant refusal to speak off script when I tried—makes me think we aren’t going to any time soon.
I press my hands to the gilded doors and step into the night.
The fourth day of the Great Dionysia reeks of debauchery, an outdoor night market hosted in the heart of the District where the Playhouse looms. Above, the sky sparkles with stars. Below, music pulses merrily in the air as I exit through the open gates.
I enter the celebrations with a limp and probably the most outrageous plan I’ve ever had in my life.
Even after Arius swore up and down that officials had scrubbed the District of any signs of Eleutheraen weapons, I warily watch for pointed arrows among the smiling mouths and reaching hands as I move through the festival, past tables overflowing with delicacies, cakes, and rare wines. Merchants busy around them, overwhelmed by demand, until one spots me and bursts into tears with a speech of unending gratitude that I don’t deserve. It’s impossible to catch all of what she says over the music, but the word “red” dots her sentences more than once, and I notice the roses woven into her black hair. Red. Color.Beauty—all seeping outside of the Playhouse for the duration of the festival. Probably more than most of them have ever seen.
I hurry faster down the street.
Betmasters lurk at every corner, coin changing hands over my and Jude’s fates—wagers laid on who will emerge from the finale tomorrow alive.
Farther down, booths are strung with tiny lanterns that twinkle like fireflies, their vendors hawking playbills and posters, shouting their prices over the beat of drums.
“Come now, Riven,” Titus bellows, emerging from a crowd of Revelers dancing wildly in the open plaza. Wine stains the corners of his lips, gold leaves falling loose from his hair and floating to the ground. “Your last night on earth calls for a dance!”
Before I can object, he grips my hand and pulls me into what I think is a dance but feels like a gallop.
“You’re drunk,” I observe, wincing when my injured leg meets too much pressure after Titus attempts to dip me.
“You’re correct.” He throws his head back and laughs. “See? At least I can admit when I’m something no one likes very much.” He spins me, brushing too close to Revelers that form a circle around us, their ears itching to catch a word of conversation among Players.
TITUS: “I know the feeling, though, you know.” He sticks a foot out for emphasis, the one an arrow sliced right through. “Never stops hurting.”
RIVEN: “Comforting.”
Then we’re dancing again.
“Titus, I need to”—I lower my voice—“talk to you about something. An idea.”
Titus grins wickedly. “Oh? Trying to make Jude jealous? Sure, I’m in.”
I frown. “Not that.”
“So long as yourideadoesn’t involve me going inside. I’m fucking tired of that place and plan to enjoy my freedom while I’ve got it.” He raises an eyebrow. “And don’t think I’ve forgiven either of you for leaving us all behind to go on your little adventure outside. Damned unfair, that was.”
Titus blinks a few times at his own words, shaking his head in confusion. He doesn’t realize he’s slipped, gone off script.
Recovering, he locks his arm around my waist, hoisting me into the air and whirling us twice before setting me down.
TITUS: “I’m impressed, Riven. You’re either about to unite a nation or start a war. Between you and me, one of those soundsmuchmore interesting.” He playfully waggles his eyebrows at me. “I haven’t gone to battle in a long time.”
I flinch at the reminder and turn to peer up at the second ring of the District beyond the square. Nearby, Sil and Jude sit among the council. I wonder what’s happening now.
