RIVEN: “I’m not sick. A Player—a Player hurt me when I was young. Poisoned me, I think.” Even as I say the words, my jaw aches. There’s a crushing, heavy feeling in my chest, like I can’t breathe.
Jude walks a circle around me, the disbelief plain on his face. “APlayerdid this to you? A Player couldn’t have—”
I cough, and he jumps. “You can…” I hate myself for the words. “You can help me? You can get me the—the Script?”
“No.If you value your life, you’ll leave that cursed book alone.” He mulls the words over a moment. “But yes,” he says finally. “I can help you.”
It exists. An antidote exists.
“Do this one thing for me, Alistaire.” Jude’s gaze locks on mine. “And I promise you will safely return home. Healthy.”
Never make a bargain with a Player.The lesson from my childhood battles my ego as I consider. There’s a catch. Therehasto be.
RIVEN: “I—”
JUDE: “We’ll work out the finer details later.” His gaze dips to my throat, like he can see the mark beneath the top buttons of my coat. “Including what to do aboutthat.”
Do about what? Mymark? What does he mean—
To my horror, Jude turns and presses his palm to the oversize mirror on the wall beside us. My heart stutters at the way the glass ripples, swirling beneath his hand like water.
RIVEN: “I thought you couldn’t conjure a portal—”
JUDE: “Tooutsidethe Playhouse. Within it, yes.”
Our reflections sink into the glass, replaced by a shadowy hall that definitely looks haunted.
He gestures at the mirror—theportal.
“For both our sakes, don’t say one word to anyone down there.” He plucks the blade from between my fingers and catches my wrist when I lunge for it.
RIVEN: “Give thatback—”
“Not a good idea for you to be swinging this around. You might hurt someone!” He winks, a lock of copper falling across his kohl-rimmed eyes. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
I ball my fists, moving away from the mirror, but Jude catches my elbow, and I sneer, “Wait, wait, this is not what I—”
JUDE: “Think of this as a little introduction!”
RIVEN: “No,no—I’ve changed my mind. Now give me my—”
Before I can finish the sentence, Jude hurls me into the glass.
Act I: Scene XII
Galen will never know what happened to me.
My heart races as I find myself in a long, dim passageway. I whirl back to the mirror, but the glass swallows up the image of Jude, and he’s gone. When pounding on the glass and screaming insults doesn’t summon him back, I give up. No one, especially Jude, is coming to save me.
With a deep sigh, I drop my fists and turn. The only path forward is a flat, dark tunnel lined by mirrors.
Did I really think myself so smart? That I could march into the Playhouse and leave just as easily?
My vision adjusts, and I spot the shadowy outline of a swaying curtain at the end of the hallway. I creep forward, Jude’s offer still taunting me.Do this one thing for me, Alistaire, and I promise you will safely return home. Healthy.
Players always lie. But what if—whatifthis one isn’t?
The possibility of this being some sort of elaborate execution occurs to me as I part the curtain. I’m a marked. On Playhouse grounds. They’d be within their rights to do whatever they want with me.
