She bolts, almost breaking free from Arius—
And lunging at Sil, the tips of her fingers barely brushing the Script as he sharply jerks it from her reach.
Her cry vanishes mid-shout like a light flickering off the moment her hand makes contact with the book. She falls to her knees and blinks several times, her eyes blank, confused.
Sil shakes his head, mere disappointment crossing his face. Jude’s warning plays through my mind.If you value your life, you’ll leave that cursed book alone.
Before I can register what’s happened, Arius’s strong hands close around Thyone’s head, his fingers digging into her white-blond hair.
Her eyes, still gleaming with gold, find mine, her mouth open in a plea, but nothing comes out. She doesn’t quite look scared—she looks…confused.
She’s a Reveler,I try to remind myself. A Playhouse worshipper from the South. She signed up for this on purpose.Right?
At the moment, though, she just looks like a person.
I run forward, my heart dropping through the floor as I bolt at Arius—
He snaps her neck. One swift, violent motion.
Then it’s over. I stand, cold and still and shaken as Arius scoops the girl’s body into his arms and follows Sil to the stairs, like nothing at all has happened.
Sil smiles politely in passing, tucking that book back into his pocket. “Good evening, Alistaire. Jude.”
I turn to Jude as they leave, my body numb. My vision swims, drifting over the walls as if they’ll have answers. “That…that was Reality Suspension, right?” My breaths are coming too quick. My head feels light. “He wastestingher—her skills in—”
Jude is already shaking his head. “It’s how eliminations are carried out in the Playhouse. Like I told you.” His voice, usually so steady, sounds like a thread stretched too tight. “It’s a casting call. Whoever the director thinks is right for the cast…” He trails off. “We choose our contenders, but Sil chooses who stays.”
I can’t breathe. It’s common knowledge that auditionees don’t leave the Playhouse. But—but I never imagined seeing it in action, that it would be so—
And Jude wasn’t lying about the Script, then. I don’t know what happened to Thyone when her hand brushed that book, but I know I don’t want it to happen to me.
But why?I stare at a scuff mark on the marble, where the heel of Thyone’s shoe had dragged.Why not just let her go? Send her away from the Playhouse?Whythis?
I look up, as if I’m going to find comfort in the eyes of aPlayer. They probably revel in this horror.
At the moment, though, Jude doesn’t look like he’s reveling in anything. His jaw tightens, that blithely aloof expression of his almost cracking at the edges, and I realize I asked my questions out loud. “Don’t look for meaning in everything, Alistaire.” He turns to leave. “You might find it.”
A moment later, he’s vanished down the hall.
Fine. He can go to bed. I have work to do.
And it starts tonight.
Act II: Scene IV
A second night in the Playhouse is two nights too many.
Luckily, I won’t be trapped much longer. Provided I survive this. Well,and provided I can findit—orher,I suppose.
The Prop Master of the Playhouse: Marigold.
The first shadow comes five minutes to midnight, fast and delicate, just like the one Jude chased away yesterday. Nyxene: a ghostly Stage Manager checking that her actors have properly gone to their beds.
A finger of shadow reaches under my dressing room door, as if to scold me for being awake.
I hold my breath, watching, my feet at the threshold of my sleeping quarters.
There are things that move in the Playhouse after dark that mean you harm,Jude warned. But I imagine they can’t mean me any more harm thanhedoes, so.
