Craning my neck up, I meet the sparkle in Titus’s gaze, sizing me up with the curiosity of a cat that’s just spotted an injured mouse.
Don’t look a Player in the eye,I remember with startling clarity and drop my gaze.
Titus laughs. “What, do I not hold enough interest for you?” He clicks his tongue, offended. “Impolite, I say. Sour expression, too. Won’t you smile at least?”
“Fuck off,”I growl, then immediately panic.
What the hell possessed me to saythat?
Jude’s eyes widen as he quickly pushes off the couch. Titus’s narrow.
Gods, Galen’s right. My temper is going to get me killed.
Titus’s fingers play at the blade at his belt. Jude’s posture suggests he’s about to pounce between us. “I could force you to cut yourself a whole new smile if I wished.”
The disturbing images of my attackers outside who didexactlythat flash through my head.
Well. This is it, isn’t it.
Then it all seems to happen at once. A splinter of gold, like a shooting star, zips through the night behind Titus with awhoosh.
Titus’s smirk goes blank, his face full of shock, then rage, then agony as a scream erupts from his throat, the sound gut-wrenching and visceral as he crumples.
Confused, I stumble back as my eyes fall to the ankle he’s clutching.
To the shaft of an arrow sunken into the flesh above his heel, like a needle in a pincushion.
Chaos fractures the stillness.
I yelp as something collides with my back, knocking me to the ground, before registering Jude has pulled us both to the floor and is shouting at the other Players to follow suit.
Gold pours from Titus’s ankle like sunlight as he shouts every curse known to man. I frantically scoot away to carve space between the injured Player and me as Arius dashes across the terrace, kneeling. In soft tones, Arius instructs him to stay still, but Titus only howls louder when he wrenches the arrow out.
In the corner of my eye, auditionees rush messily for the stairs.
Escape. While Jude’s distracted.Hastily, I crawl for the stairs, the ice in my ribs feeling like splintered tree bark from the fall.
“Alistaire.”I peer over my shoulder at the sound of Jude’s voice, where he helps Arius tend to Titus. “Are you all right—?”
“Jude?” Arius interrupts, face white with worry as he extends the arrow in a clutched fist.
I study the golden tip. Eleutheraen gold, based on Titus’s reaction. Whoever shot that arrow shot to kill.
For a moment, the Players don’t seem nearly so invincible.
Jude unravels a crude note looped around the arrow and scans it with annoyance.
ARIUS: “Would you hold still? You’ll make it worse.”
TITUS: “Get off me. I’ll hold still when the bastard who shot this is—”
“Dorian. One of his followers, probably,” Jude concludes, crumbling the note in a fist. A smug smile tugs at my lips. Apparently, not all of Dorian’s hunters cameinside.“Take this to the Prop Master and get Sil to kill the lights.” He hands the offending arrow to Mattia, who throws a concerned look at Titus before vanishing downstairs.
I watch her. With my knife gone, that arrow could beveryuseful for coaxing Jude out of this bargain and going home.
“I’ll cover us.” Jude’s tone sours. “Get Titus inside, and everyone meet me at the gates.” He spares me a glance before adding, “We’re departing a little early.”
The smile falls off my face as the Players file for the stairs, Arius and Parrish carrying Titus between them.
