“It’s definitely one of my worst, yes,” I agree as dust flutters down like snow.
“Riven,” he says, eyes following the damage. It’s falling apart about as fast as we are. “Whatever happens…” He searches for words.
“I know,” I say, nodding and catching my breath, picturing what I wrote across his mirror. “In the next, then.”
I take his hand as we run over shattered marble, past portraits whose shapes and colors have begun to sickeningly bleed into each other, their frames sagging toward the ground.
“I’ll admit, love,” he says, “I have never been so grateful to see your scheming face.”
Act III: Scene XXXV
Places look different when you know you’re seeing them for the last time.
I’d never noticed the greenish tint of Player Rhea’s eyes, but I note them as we pass her fading portrait. She lost her battle in the arena after a seventy-five-year run.
Though I realize now I’d recognize Arius in any role.
The peeling red paint on the wall has a nasty slit in its side, and I almost brush my fingers over it as we pass. Parrish told me it was from Titus drunkenly challenging Jude to a duel that lasted all of twenty seconds and ended in Mattia threatening to suspend both their realities.
As we cross the corridor that leads backstage, I look up the staircase that ascends to the catwalk and, for some reason, imagine Gene smiling down from it. Never a stranger hunting me in the Playhouse, but an old friend trying to stop my fate from becoming hers. Maybe she’d be proud.
Our heels echo as we close in on the stage, and I clutch Jude’s hand a little tighter the farther we go, counting our steps. One for every song sung. Another for every tale told. A third for every dance performed. A step for every page flipped.
A bow taken for all that we are. Story. Craft. Every tale has our magic sewn into its bindings, bits of stars and laughter and whispered secrets only Players know. It’s far past time they were set free. For someone else to tell them.
I wish the walk would last longer but figurelongerwill never be enough to satiate nostalgia. Even if it’s just a fancy cage full of false memories. We’ve walked these halls in hundreds of different shoes together; it has to be enough.
My plan is structured in the same fashion that all of my plans are: feeble, reckless, and prone to fall apart at any moment.
“Do you believe what they say about Fate?” I ask Jude, my breath catching in my throat the closer we get to the stage. I can’t help but glance down at the Finders Keepers ring peeking between our fingers, searching for comfort in it. “That Fate bows to no man.”
“Yes,” Jude replies and looks down at me. “I think she’d be terrified of you, though.”
Departing the wings, we step onto the stage. One way or another, for the last time.
Act III: Scene XXXVI
Marigold’s razor-sharp teeth flash through my memories as I tiptoe past the curtain and into the empty auditorium.The stage,she said.
“I think our contracts are here—Marigold seemed to think so, at least,” I tell Jude, nervous to raise my voice above a whisper. Nyxene may be lurking elsewhere at the moment, but I hardly think it’ll take Sil long to track us down. It unnerves me that Idon’tfeel my strings being pulled right now.
I need to destroy our contracts before that changes. Every groan of the Playhouse sends me further on edge.
The stage is cracked like a sheet of ice, shattered in places. Somewhere far below, my arrow is lodged into it from my battle in the arena. I pick my way across, avoiding sharp cuts of marble. Something twists in my heart at the sight of the red velvet seats we’ve performed for again and again and again—torn and discolored now.
“We’re relying onMarigold?” Jude complains, stopping to kick the dust of the ruined set pieces from his shoes. “Lovely. Do you know she tried to bite me once?” He trips on some debris and swears under his breath.
“Do you have a better plan?” I hiss over my shoulder.
He huffs. “I wouldn’t dare. Trying to change your mind is like trying to move the sun.” Then adds in a murmur, “Ill-advised and probably impossible anyway.”
“Quiet,” I say, navigating the platform.
“What did you do with her body anyhow?” Jude asks, ignoring my instructions as usual. “Parrish said they couldn’t find it.”
I’m about to throw him a confused look when I see it. Up ahead. It’s easier to notice in the stage’s utter ruin—a square of marble that peeks out just a little too much in the rubble. Picking my way over the destruction, I kneel at the center of the platform, flattening my hands over the square and feeling my Craft sink into the stage. A sigh of relief releases in my chest as the square pops open—
Just as quickly, my heart freezes, the world tilting. Behind me, Jude lets out another curse.
