I inhale, measuring my next question carefully. “Andwhendoes it end, then?”
Jude raises his chin. “It already has.”
Act II: Scene X
“I know it! I know it!” squeals Parrish as Titus swaggers elegantly back and forth on top of the long banquet table. “You’re Sil!”
TITUS: “And we have a winner!”
ARIUS: “Only because you cheated.” Arius pins him with a withering glare as Titus slides into the seat and throws an arm over Mattia’s shoulders, which she immediately shrugs off. “We said no Craft in charades.”
TITUS: “Far be it from me to break the rules, Arius!”
ARIUS: “Your hair is still white.”
Titus twists his lips, hair fading back to black. “Oops.”
I pick from a bowl of candied plums by the railing, somehow hungry again after storming as far away from the Playhouse Archives as possible, which turns out to be the rooftop.
Jude lies, I remind myself. He lies all the time. He’s lying about the treaty, too. It doesn’t change anything. My plan will still work.
TITUS: “Alistaire, get over here! You fight like a Player. You might as well drink like one.” Reluctantly, I wander from my corner. “You wouldn’t happen to know where our least favorite prima donna is, would you? You two seem awfully close these days.”
I return a tight smile before remembering Jude specifically asked menotto tell anyone about bringing me to the Archives. So I say, “He was showing me the Archives. Probably still down there.”
Arius chokes on his wine. “TheArchives?”
PARRISH: “Bound to learn the hard way about auditionees, that one. At best, they die.” She looks at me. “At worst, they don’t.”
TITUS: “Won’t matter. My girl Tig will see the light of the arena. You should have seen her in rehearsal today”—he gives me an unapologetic nod—“no offense, Alistaire.” Then turns back to the group. “Jude can count his days. His crown is mine.”
Bored of hearing about my impending doom, I drift back to my candied plums and ignore Titus’s boasting.
“You’re looking…well, Alistaire.”
I nearly knock the bowl over spinning around, alarmed—mostly because the words came from Mattia. Gods, how does shemovelike that? She could give Nyxene’s shadows a run for their money.
My brow knits in suspicion as I question both why that’s been said to me several times now and if that’s Mattia’s subtle way of indicating she recognizes something about me. Or rather, about my father.
Keen on not finding out, I turn my face to the city beyond the ledge and change the subject. “Must be strange, moving from one place to the next all the time.”
To my surprise, she joins me, leans her sculpted brown forearms onto the ledge, and sets a silver chalice between us. “Depressing, more like,” she replies smoothly. “We’ve been through every inch of this side of the Cut and hardly ever glimpsed any of it.” She brings her chalice to her lips and drinks, leaving an echo of maroon lipstick on the silver. “I came from this city at some point, I think.”
“At some point?” I ask, taken aback by the bitter edge cutting her tone—and still not trusting that Mattia came over here for a mere casual conversation.
“I haven’t walked those streets in hundreds of years. I had four sisters back then. Gone now, of course.” She shrugs, expressionless, blue-black braids falling over her shoulder. “If Icouldleave, I’m not sure I could even tell you where our old home is, if it still exists.”
“Why are you telling me this?” That was probably rude to say.
Her bright eyes flicker in my direction, then back to the city below. “You surprised me the other day. I didn’t think you had so much fight in you.” She seems to be speaking to herself as much as me. “Almost reminded me of my first day in the Playhouse.” I raise my eyebrows, and she adds, “Don’t get it twisted; you’re a terrible fighter. But you’re excellent at pretending to know what you’re doing, and that’ll get one far in the theatre.” She drinks again. “Awfulat pretending you want to be here, though, so I’m guessing Jude has something to do with that.”
I tense, searching over my shoulder in case the others heard. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you don’t.” She twists her lips, seeming deep in thought for a moment. “Be careful of Jude. All he knows is winning.”
“Why are you—” A vase shatters. Behind us, Parrish has challenged Arius to a duel.
Mattia looks out at the city. “I no longer have a stake in this,” she answers without needing to hear the rest of my question.
