“Let’s have a flood, right here in this room.” Sil paces around me, but I’m still panting from the last ridiculous illusion he made me cast, which involved setting all the curtains on the windows ablaze. Sweat beads on my forehead.
It’s been one day since the Playhouse crossed the Cut into Paraskenia, and the city outside has been silent as death.
Hiding.Waiting. For me. To do what I promised.
I have to get Jude to Syrene, where the Playhouse wassupposedto be. And I have to do it today.
RIVEN: “No.” Casting illusions has become second nature. I’ve endured learning Reality Suspension. And Compulsion—the art of embedding a thought in someone’s mind—comes easily to me, as it turns out. Though I’ve learned it either cannot be used on Sil or it’s forbidden.
But there’s still one skill Ineedto get out of here. “I said Mimicry. I want to learnMimicry.”
The director raises an eyebrow at me.
Today marks yetanotherday Sil has dismissed my attendance from rehearsal to observe me one-on-one. Thankfully, he opted for a rehearsal room over the stage—a big, empty space with lattice gold wallpaper and oval windows overlooking a mountainous skyline. I hope I never set foot on that stage again.
And I hope at some point, saying that won’t feel like a brazen lie.
SIL: “Mimicry is an advanced technique, but of course, we can give it a—”
Jude slips through the mirror behind him with a yawn and a stretch.
JUDE: “I move the Playhouse over theirimpossible wall, and you give me an early call time? Cruel even for you, Sil.”
SIL: “Jude! Just in time. Alistaire here would like to have a go at Mimicry. Show her the ropes, will you? Greenroom is probably easiest for it.” With a polite wave and a promise he’ll “keep an eye on us,” Sil vanishes through the door.
When he leaves, I ask, “Whatisthe Greenroom?” The Players mention it often in passing, but I haven’t spotted any clear doors or signs that might lead to it.
Jude is already strolling back toward the mirror, summoning a portal through the glass, stopping only to raise a suspicious eyebrow at me. “Youwantto learn Mimicry?”
I search for an excuse. “I’d rather practice that than Reality Suspension.”
He shrugs as if to say,Fair enough, and steps through the mirror. The lights of the rehearsal room shut off as soon as he does; reluctantly, I follow.
And nearly jump out of my skin when I find what’s on the other side.
The Greenroom is hardly a room at all. It’s a funhouse of reflections, walls entirely made of mirrors. Red—not green—ceilings, oddly enough.
And no door.
“This is the safest spot in the Playhouse,” Jude says while I try to conjure what could belesssafe than being trapped with a Player in a room that has no exit. “No one can get in or out of here without Craft.”
I search frantically for somewhere to rest my gaze that doesn’t contain myself. There are mirrorseverywhere.
RIVEN: “Why…why do we have to practice here?” Out of places to cast my focus, I look to Jude. “We could go back to the stage.” I’d even prefer that over this.
“You can’t put a costume ononstage,” he taunts. “Everyone would see!” Catching the barest glimpse of my reflection beyond his shoulder, I scrunch my eyes shut as he prattles on. “Perception is the heart of Mimicry. We’re never who we appear to be.” My eyes might be closed, but I can hearthe smirk in his voice as his steps move behind me. “Even you,Alistaire. Now! Look up.”
My jaw tenses as I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, shaking my head. Anything to avoid looking at the glass.
Warmth flutters at my shoulders. Jude’s hands guide me forward, closer to the mirrored wall, no doubt. I dig my heels into the floor, let my back press to his chest. “I think maybe I’ve changed my mind,” I say, squirming.
There must be another way around my plan. A way to execute it without Mimicry—
There isn’t. I know that. If there was another way, I’d have found it.
Jude chuckles, the sound rolling through his chest. “You’ll run at Mattia with a dagger,butthisfrightens you?”
“I can learn Mimicry somewhere else,” I argue, letting my eyes fall open but keeping them trained on the floor. “In another room—”
