The conversation in the dining hall this morning comes back to me.
Tell me how you expect to win them over.
We won’t.
“And why a Great Dionysia? Whynow, when they’re yearsearly—” My heart drops as I look back to the tour schedule. “They’re planning to cross the Cut right before the festival starts.”
The Great Dionysia festival lasts five days.Five days,during which all the Players are released from the Playhouse and allowed to roam freely.
They’re just biding their time until the treaty is up and the Great Dionysia begins.
And if the Players are after revenge, it’ll be slaughter.
Something in me counters the thought. Players don’t inherentlydesirebloodshed. If they did, they’d have killed everyone by now. Every mortal loss is one less patron in their velvet seats. They’re after something else.
I’m missing part of this picture. I’m certain I am. But until I know what it is—
“Take their schedule to the council. Maybe they can use it so that the North will know where to place their forces—and be ready to defend the Cut if the Players try to—”
“We’ll fight, but we won’t win.” Galen speaks up, breaking his silence. His voice is devoid of emotion, resigned. “None of this is news, Riven. We know what they mean to do.”
My jaw tightens. The North succeeded in barring the Playhouse from entry once. Why shouldn’t we do it again?
“What do you—” My brow falls. “What do you mean? If you send word now, the North can begin pooling its resources of Eleutheraen gold—”
“Riven, the North doesn’thaveEleutheraen gold.” Galen looks me in the eye, and the grim certainty there rattles me to my core. “We haven’t for years.”
Act II: Scene II
“What?”I whisper into the mirror. In the distance, I hear applause.
We’re running out of time.
“Our access point to the well has been drying up for years.”
No mortal can reach the heights of Mount Eleutherae or the Eleutheraen gold that pools at its top. But beneath the mountain, it runs deep underground throughout the North.
Or itdid.
Galen is staring like I’m as good as dead. “The miners began reporting diminishing lines of Eleutheraen gold ages ago.” The acquiescence of his tone only startles me further.
I stare back in disbelief. Eleutheraen gold is our only defense against the Players. It’s always been a part of my world, used for marks, for dipping weapons.
“It’s a bluff?” I say, shocked. “Our defense is abluff.”
The North is built on truth, yet our greatest protection hinges on the Players believing alie.A half-truth so thin, we wouldn’t even be able to deny it if asked. I heard the Players say it just this morning: Our Eleutheraen gold is all that stands between them and taking the North for themselves.
“Notentirely,” Galen whispers. “The North has continued markings, but what’s being sold on the market is diluted at best. New markings aren’t done with pure Eleutheraen gold anymore.”
A half-truth.Technically, Eleutheraen gold is being sold. It’s just watered down.
“I don’t know how effective it is,” Galen admits. “Even parts of the Cut aren’t pure.”
Our infallible wall is flawed.
Cassia doesn’t look even mildly surprised, her eyes low, head down.
She knew, too, then.
