As soon as Mattia is out of sight, I bolt up to the curtain, hovering there, waiting. My heart has begun to pound in my ears, fear seizing the breath in my chest.
Come on. Come on out, Silenus.
SILENUS: “And a round of applause forour Lead Player and Mimic,Jude!”
A question mark forms in my mind as the audience applauds, my gaze darting around the empty corridor. I let out a shaky breath. No Lead Player in sight. He must be on his way through a different entrance.
Curiosity brings me closer to the curtain. I’ve seen so many posters that I can’t help but wonder what the infamous Lead Player looks like in the flesh. My fingers make thetiniestslit in the fabric to peek through.
I glimpse an applauding audience—and confused, expectant faces.
Where is he?
“Why are we hiding?” whispers a voice behind me.
I yelp and, before I can think better of it, jab my elbow backward as hard as I can. Then wince when it meets something solid.
Whoever I’ve hit does little more than grunt and mutter, “We’ll work on the greeting.”
Cursing and holding my elbow, which is radiating sharp darts of pain down my hand, I look over my shoulder.
And find myself face-to-face with a pair of violent golden eyes.
Act I: Scene VII
Compliments! Three compliments. Pay a Player three compliments and they’ll leave you alone.
The rule comes back to me with ease. It was drilled into my head around the same time I learned how to read.
That said, it doesn’t matter, because I have nothing nice to say. Even if he is admittedly the most staggeringly beautiful person I have ever seen.
Jude Stepharros. Lead Player of the Playhouse.
I grip onto my common sense before I can reach for my knife and start a fight that I most definitely will not win. Their director is one thing. But Jude, like the others, stands at least a foot taller than me—and I’ve been regarded as comically tall my entire life.
My second thought is that if Iwereto take him in a fight, I’d pierce one of his eyes first—which are glowing and golden and lined with kohl. And watching me like I’m live entertainment.
Probably because I’ve been staring in stunned silence for about thirty seconds now.
JUDE: “So, youarehiding, then.”
My gaze flutters longingly to the hall, where a smarter woman wouldhave escaped moments ago.
Growing up, I always fantasized about this moment: fearlessly facing a Player. Confronting whichever cast member cursed me. Reaching for my knife and plunging it through the Player’s dark heart. But I don’t feel fearless, and my hands are not reaching for my knife.
I feelsmall.
SILENUS: “Always intent on making an entrance of his own, isn’t he?” The director’s voice booms on the other side of the curtain as the audience hushes to an amused titter. “Now, if you please…a warm welcome for our Lead Player,Jude!” he tries again.
“Well, don’t look so scared over it.” Jude pouts at me. “It could be worse. I, for instance, am terribly late.”
The crowd screams the Player’s name, as if this will magically summon him. He makes no move for the curtain.
JUDE: “You know, I looked just like you at my audition—nervous and all. Better dressed, though.” His golden eyes look me over as I pray to the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “But anyway, it isn’t so bad. Do you know what the trick is?”
I have a feeling he’s going to tell me whether I respond or not. He hasn’t seemed to notice I’m inching backward or that my right hand has crept into my coat toward my blade.
JUDE: “Take three deep breaths like this— Gods, you’re standing like I’ve got a knife to your throat. Try sitting down? Here.”
