Well.Thatdoesn’t bode well for me.
Parrish’s gloved hands reach for the leather belt strapped at her torso, retrieving two thin silver knives about the length of her arms. She moves across the stage, having exchanged her skirts for a flare of black gauze that flutters cape-like behind legs that move with the sharp speed and precision of a spider.
TITUS: “You’ll need to know Reality Suspension for certain types of performances, mostly Tragedies. Remember, Comedy is not the antithesis to Tragedy. Everyone endures suffering, hardship, loss. Everyone dies.”
PARRISH: “Some of us just know how to have a good laugh about it.” She winks.
Hold on.What does that—
TITUS: “First, a demonstration! Watch closely.”
Uncertain, I take a few steps away and collide with someone at my back. Whirling, I find Jude, his olive skin looking rather pale.
JUDE:“This—”He nods at Titus and Parrish, who have begun to walk cool, calculated circles around each other, the former adapting to a noticeable limp on his left side. Jude lowers his voice. “Is why that mark is going to kill you.”
My heart starts to thud in my ears.
TITUS: “WhatisTragedy? Why does it exist?” His voice reverberates off each slat of marble, coming back tenfold. “Mortals are simple creatures. Fewer things grip hold of an audience like the inescapable reminder of their own shared fate. Their eternal quest to understand what the journey toward the endmeans.” He’s speaking to us, but his eyes never leave Parrish, apparently his opponent now. “Reality Suspension is not something youlearnto do. It’s something you learnnotto do.”
PARRISH: “You make us sound lazy.” Her head tilts, childlike. “Stalling?”
Without warning, Titus brings the blade down in a swift blow, scarcely missing Parrish’s head. She ducks, striking for his torso with one of her blades, laughing at his attempt.
RIVEN: “Jude.” My voice comes out in a whisper as Titus runs at Parrish. Those arerealweapons. “What is happening?”
He doesn’t answer, his eyes following the fight unfolding before us.
This doesn’t look like mere stage combat. They’re trying to kill each other.
TITUS: “Don’t turn your back on your opponent. Reality Suspension requires at leasttwo bodies—if one of you dies onstage, your life has to temporarily go somewhereliving. So for Dionysus’s sake, hold eye contact.” He dodges one of Parrish’s strikes. “This is why we do Craft binding. We’re all connected on the stage, and one life will depend on the next. If you can’t trust your partner, you’re as good as dead.”
I glance up at Jude. I am extra dead.
Titus jabs Parrish with the center hilt of his weapon, forcing her back. Showing little reaction to what looked like a hard blow to her hip, she rolls onto her feet. One of her blades goes flying as their shadows waltz across the stage, Parrish’s anklets jingling with each step. The blade clatters on the ground beside the curtain as she shifts, wielding the other cleanly like a sword, her expression one of mere annoyance.
TITUS: “And if the script says you’redone for—” Titus corners Parrish to the edge, the orchestra pit looming at her back. He swings again, and everyone gasps, excited. This time, Parrish doesn’t block; her feet are a smidge too slow. Titus lunges and swipes his good foot behind her ankle. She lands on her back with a huff, her second knife sliding away from her grasp. He wastes no time springing over her.
There’s an unmistakable, intimate second of shared silence between them, their eyes meeting, fusing. Parrish doesn’t look frightened. In fact, I think I catch her sticking her tongue out at him mockingly.
TITUS: “Then you calculate the moment you failexactly.” His gaze narrows. “And you don’t fight it.”
Titus utters a word under his breath that I think only Parrish can hear. Then, without hesitating, slides the blade clean across her throat.
Act I: Scene XIX
“That,”declares Titus, pointing the wet blade at each of our stunned faces.
My heart hammers against my chest as my eyes drift to where Parrish’s throat used to be, gold spilling out on the marble. Her eyes are turned toward the spotlights, glassy and distant.
No, no, this iswrong.
TITUS: “Thatis what you want. Shock your audience. No matter how many times they see it, they will never be immune to death. Whichis whyyoumust be.”
She isn’t dead. Certainly not.
I swallow, suddenly unable to feel my feet as I grip hold of the red curtain to steady myself.
Thiscannot be Reality Suspension. Itcan’tbe. This is just…
