Titus snorts. “Whathonor—”
“This way, Alistaire.” Jude motions me forward, a warning in his eyes.
I make no movement and spit in his direction.
Arius chokes on his wine. “Gods, what have you done to the girl, Jude? Anger in that one.”
“Angeris an actor’s best asset,” Jude defends, flashing a smile.
“Indeed.” The steady voice comes from Mattia. The oldest Player watches me with interest now, which I gather is a bad thing.
Resentment bolsters in my chest. Paranoid, I look away, more and more certain she knows who I am. Her cutting tone. The searching way of her eyes.
“Allow me to prove she’s the gentlest little fawn you’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jude announces, then turns to me.“Be nice,”he utters, seething. “Act normal.”
I pinch my eyes at him. “No.”
“My, youareghostly, aren’t you?” Parrish calls as Jude throws me a biting smile that clearly reads:Walk.I return one I hope conveys:You too. Off a cliff.
TITUS: “Is one ghost in the Playhouse not enough for you, Jude?”
Jude stops cold beside me.
“Ghost?” I ask stiffly, defying Jude’s order not to speak.
PARRISH: “Gene Hunt’s ghost! You have her old dressing room.” She makes atsksound when my jaw drops. “You haven’t told her, Jude.”
Ghost?She can’t be serious.
“You can have that portrait removed if you like,” offers Arius while I pin a new look of shock and betrayal on Jude. Behind him, Parrish volunteers to keep the dead Player’s portrait in her rooms instead.
“There isn’tactuallya ghost,” Jude says before I can ask. “Just a myth. Gene is dead.”
TITUS: “They say your name is Hunt as well? Why, what are the odds?”
ARIUS: “Jude, feed this girl before she passes out.”
RIVEN: “I don’t want—”
MATTIA: “Why are you here?” Her voice slices through the flurry of conversation.
The group falls silent at her accusing tone. Mattia keeps one eye on me, her maroon-painted lips pressed together, sending a shiver through my blood.She knows. And she’s daring me to acknowledge it.
“I…” I search for something to say. A lie. But nothing surfaces, my tongue bound to truth.
Titus stands to a full, terrifying height that rivals Jude’s. He cocks his head, and a few strands of dark hair fall loose across his face. “Well, Alistaire?”
ARIUS: “Leave her, Titus.”
TITUS: “I’m feeling rambunctious, Arius. I want to play.”
Jude leans onto the back of one of the couches, crosses his arms. “Play with an audience. She isn’t an option.”
“The world is my audience, and I’ll not settle for less,” Titus says through his teeth, then turns to me. “Tell me, Alistaire! Why are you here? Because it certainly isn’t to win.”
My heart hammers furiously as Titus saunters closer, until I’m enmeshed in the cloud of rich perfume he must have bathed in. Jude is throwing me wide-eyed looks that scream,Answer the damn question.
How did my father do this? Walk into a cage with these monstersand negotiatepeacewith them. I can barely keep my legs steady.
