I shrink inward, wishing I’d never seen my reflection. Embarrassment presses against my skin like ice. They’re all sobeautiful—
“The oldest Player,” he says. “Close with Titus—and about a hundred times more lethal. Keep your distance; few are fortunate enough tonotfall in love with her.”
I wonder briefly if he’s speaking from personal experience as Mattia dangles an empty cup at Titus and asks him to refill it in a tone so sultry,Inearly volunteer to do so.
RIVEN: “Are they…together?”
JUDE: “Gods, no! Sil forbids it, doesn’t like us getting attached.” I blink, surprised at the brevity of the remark as Jude throws a bored look at the gates below. “Most dalliances are kept to whoever interesting shows up at the stage door.”
Well then.
“Last year,” he goes on, “a woman impaled herself trying to scale the gates, all to bring Mattia arose. Whole mess.” Jude jerks his chin toward his cast. “Anyway. You see the man across from them? That’s Arius.”
My eyes go to the slender, golden-haired man with an overly friendly smile, who crooks a finger at another two auditionees, motioning them over.
“Seems nice, doesn’t he? He likes to think so, too. But remind him he isn’t a saint, and you’ll see how quickly he becomes a demon.”
“Was he really a healer?” I ask, noticing the decorative purple glass bottle Arius pulls from his pocket, which looks more like perfume until he brings it to his jaw and sprays the mist into his throat.
Jude nods. “One of the best, he claims. Better poisoner, though. Probably took a hundred lives before he ever came here.”
My understanding is that’swhyArius came to the Playhouse—a last resort to escape hanging after being caught helping those who asked him to poison their abusive partners. Some sources suggest he got carried away and extended his little hobby to whoever irked him. He didn’t have much to lose.
“Oh, and if you hear him sing, plug your ears. He’s known for his skill in Compulsion, particularly during—”
“The Battle at Melpomene Shoreline,” I say numbly. In my head, my eyes sweep across a page detailing the massacre. “He sang a song so convincing, an entire army marched itself off a cliff.” I sniff in disgust. “They say the Players went down to the shore later to collect the bones and turn them into props.”
Jude chuckles. “You know, I think we might still have some of those in the prop room.”
The wheels spin faster in my head. I need to get out of here, bargain or no bargain.But how…
“Let me do the talking. Focus on making a good impression,” Jude murmurs as we approach the Players, where the next two auditionees seem to be undergoing interrogation. I vaguely note that they’re obviously siblings, a boy and a girl with the same black eyes; fair, narrow faces; and icy blond hair.
Part of me strangely longs to speak to them, ask why they auditioned together when they both can’t possibly leave as two. Or at all.
I scold myself and look away. I can’t bethatdesperate for friends.
TITUS: “Enough! We get the idea. You both havedreams.” He rolls his eyes and waves a hand. “Dismissed. Go make friends.” His voice drips with condescension. “Or don’t. I don’t care.”
“That was rude,Titus,” chides Arius as the siblings scatter, his words welding together like soft, spun sugar.
“Boringme is rude,” Titus retorts.
Jude nudges me forward, a few paces away from the Players now. “Like I said,” he whispers in my ear. “Let me do the talking.”
He wants me to stay quiet, to do as he says. Because he certainly wouldn’t want me to…
Embarrass him.
An idea ignites in my head.
Players are vain creatures. Prideful. Ego is everything.
I turn to Jude. “Yes, Titusisvery big and frightening!” I yell loudly. “I would be scared of him, too!”
Not technicallya lie. Only an implication.
If eyes could kill, Jude’s would have turned me to ash several times over as every head turns in our direction. Titus bursts into uproarious laughter. Before Jude can so much as open his mouth to defend himself, I veer a sharp right and march over to the closest banquet table.
