He bats away my prying hands and clumsily adjusts the bandage. Squinting at the lights, I recognize Galen’s silver eyes hovering over me.
“My throat hurts.” My mind is unable to focus on anything else. “And I’m cold.”
“It’s an allergy.” Galen blows a lock of chestnut hair out of his face, throwing an anxious look at the door. “We’re going home.”
No!My mind spins. We’re supposed to practice the Three Compliments Rule today in class. I’ve already thought of four for Noah. And a few insults for other classmates.
“Can you stand?” asks Galen.
A strange feeling builds hotly in my chest. I pin my lips shut, looking to the door, where the nurse watches me like an escaped animal. Galen reaches for my shoulders and pulls me upright, startling when I violently pull away. “Riven?” His eyes cloud. “What’s wrong?”
I know the things I am supposed to say:“I’m scared. I’m hurt. I’m hungry.”Things that would make Galen nod and say,“Let’s get you home.”
But I can’t tell lies anymore, and the feeling is bubbling up my throat.
“Riv, what is it?” Galen presses.
I blink. “I’mangry.”
Act I: Scene XXII
At first, I think I must be floating. Until someone sets me down.
“Move that table out of the way, will you?” Jude’s voice, echoing somewhere in the darkness.
It occurs to me I cannot breathe.
“Gods,” says another voice. Titus? “Do you really think an auditionee could’ve gotten up there and cut the—”
“It wasn’t an auditionee,” answers Jude. “Something worse. Thanks, Titus. You can go.”
“You sure? I can stick around. First death’s the hardest.” A pause. “Bit of a fighter, isn’t she?”
“You have no idea. Don’t waste your time; it’ll be a while. She’s stubborn as a bull.”
Boots pad across the floor, followed by the click of a door shutting. There’s a dip beside me on whatever cushiony thing I’m on. Too cushiony to be an altar. And so far, no one is leaning over me with a blade to cut my heart out. This is good news.
Something cool presses to my collarbone, and I gasp, stars piercing my vision. Pain too all-consuming to be real explodes in my lungs and zips through my shoulder. I try to reach for it and wince.
“Stop, you’re making it worse,” says Jude. But the pressure eases slightly. I drag my eyelids open and make out his blurry silhouette. The dimming lights form a halo around him. There’s a cloth in his hand covered in blood.
Mine, I think. That’s unfortunate.
“Don’t—touch me—” I rasp, squirming away.
He pauses. “Are you serious, Alistaire?” He throws the cloth down. “I’ve seen a lot of people die and a lot of people pull through, but none so determined to hang in the balance. Iamtrying my best, but it’s rude to push away someone trying to help you.”
“It’s rude to drop a chandelier on someone,” I seethe, but the words turn into a cough that feels like blades raking across my lungs.
“I didn’t drop a chandelier on anyone.” He drags a hand through his hair. “Someone else did, though.”
All the auditionees were onstage. Titus was off somewhere in the wings with Parrish. The rest of the Players were on the platform.
Who, then?
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t believe what I saw, either, so that makes two of us.”
