There’s blood on her hands.
Suddenly, my brother’s panicked face fills my vision, his hands clamping around my shoulders. “You look at me, okay? Lookonlyat me, Riven,” he whispers, frantic.
How could I have already forgotten the first rule?
I nod rapidly and focus hard on my brother’s gaze—wide and round and scared. Except something is wrong with his eyes. They’re too still—glassy, like a doll’s.
“Galen?” I ask. Why isn’t he blinking? “Galen!” I try again, alarmed at the sound of my own voice.
Because my voice isallI can hear.
The shouts echo into nothing, the world shuddering to a stop. I look from Galen’s frozen stare to the fountain behind him, where the water is stuck in midair like it’s hardened into ice. Around me, the sentries are locked in place, a museum of lifeless statues. Galen’s hands press on my shoulders, cold and heavy as marble.
I blink a few times, baffled.
The whole world is still.
In the silence, a hand peels over my brother’s collar. I shiver, watching as it hooks around his shoulder one long, elegant finger at a time—each adorned with a ring. Several nails are stained red.
Then the Player’s face appears, hovering just over Galen’s shoulder.
I glance back at Galen, obeying his instructionsnotto look. But the Player’s skin glows so bright, it feels impossible to keep my eyes away.
“Oh, dear heart. You look so scared.” I shudder at the sound of her voice. It’s slow, the timbre light and airy, like silk. It fills the room, sinks into the walls. “At least look at me, won’t you?”
Never look a Player in the eye,I chant mentally. My breaths are coming too quick, my vision beginning to swim.
In the corner of my eye, her smile falls at my silence and her hand lifts off Galen’s shoulder, glides to his face. To my horror, the Player sets the sharpened edge of her ring against his cheek. Then drags it across his skin, slicing open the soft area below his eye.
Still, Galen doesn’t move. Doesn’t react.
And suddenly, I forget everything I should—and shouldnot—do in this situation.
“Stop it!”I shout, locking eyes on the Player. Fear gathers in my throat, and I spit it back out as fury. “Orelse,” I add, hoping she doesn’t notice the way my knees are trembling.
The Player tilts her head at me, curious. “Why, what lovely golden eyes you have.”
A compliment? Wait—three! I’m supposed to pay her three compl—
“They’rebrown,”I hiss at her. Like my father’s were.“Liar.”
She throws her head back and laughs. The sound ricochets off the stone, ringing in my ears. “What abeautifultemper,” the Player muses. “Lyingis a part of living. The truth is too often vile, wouldn’t you say?”
I’m not sure, really. Most people I knowcan’tlie. Pulling in a breath, I cast a nervous glance around the room. “Why aren’t they moving?”
“Well, I’ve suspended our reality, you see,” she whispers, like it’s a shared secret between us. “Do you know what that means?”
I press my lips into a frown, frustrated. Idon’tknow.
“It means this conversation doesn’t happen,” she says, gathering her robes as she settles on her knees before me. Her figure still towers over me at this height. I straighten my shoulders and stretch my neck a little higher, searching for confidence.
“They’re going to take you away,” I warn in a way I thinksounds threatening.
“Oh, I know!” the Player says, excited. “You see, they’ve promised to burn me at the stake. And I cannot resist a spectacle.” She smiles softly. “What is your name?”
Before I can speak, her gilded eyes fall to the pages in my hands—documents that declare I’m to be marked. Safe. Protected from Players. At the top of them, my name.
“Riven!” She howls another laugh that shakes my boots. “What could divide you so fiercely to merit such a name?”
