Before I can answer, the woman in charge flicks her wrist, and the guards scatter. Only Dav lingers.
“I don’t like the look of this one,” he mutters, jerking his chin toward Declan.
The woman doesn’t even turn. “It’s a good thing I have yet to consult you.”
He bristles, opens his mouth to speak, but she steps toward him.
“More to say,guard?”
“No, that is all.” Dav falters and bows his head slightly. “Apologies, Player.”
He turns to leave, slamming his shoulder into Declan on the way out. Declan—an immovable wall of muscle wrapped in sweat-slick heat—doesn’t even blink.
“Enjoy your last sunset,” Dav sneers.
Declan mutters something under his breath, jaw flexing, but falls silent when the Player pivots toward us, her tawny gaze raking over every inch.
“You’ll perform tonight,” she says. “Or else.”
“Then we’ll perform,” I say. “If that’s what keeps us alive.”
Declan folds his arms across his chest. “You’re certain this is the right move?”
“No,” I admit. “But it’s the only one we’ve got.”
He dips his chin, brow furrowed as if there’s another option we’re not seeing.
“You tried to negotiate with the queens and get us out of this. It didn’t work. So now we fake it.”
He nods slowly. “We fake it.”
The Player watches us, a slow smile unfurling across her pale face like smoke. “The two of you shall fit right in. Everyone here knows how to lie pretty.”
Seven
Torchlight dances across the walls of the tent the Player leads us to, throwing shadows over a woven rug on the sand and the massive bed—yes,bed, singular—that takes up most of the space. Lazy spirals of incense curl up from a copper dish in the corner next to a red velvet screen held in place by a gilded frame. The whole space smells faintly of fire and clove.
“You shall find both costumes and props there,” the Player says, nodding toward a domed trunk at the foot of the bed. It’s carved from dark wood and banded in copper. Its surface is etched with spiking flames and dotted with yellow and orange gemstones that wink like warning lights.
“The Festival of Flame begins at sunset,” she continues. “A guard will be sent to collect you. If you are no longer here…” Her voice hardens enough to make a lump of nerves form in my stomach. “There is not one of us who could or would protect you from your fate when you are found.”
She turns to leave.
“Wait,” I blurt. “We’ll perform. That’s fine. But we need to get home. We don’t belong here. We’re not even sure wherehereis. The Kingdom of Wands, yes, but…” Words fail me as I try to form a question that won’t undo the lenient sentence we’re serving.
The Player’s gaze finds mine, steady and full of something I can’t quite name. “Why, you’re in Towerfall. Within the bounds of the greatest kingdom of the realm. It seems fate has led you here.”
With that, she steps out into the heat, the tent flap whispering shut behind her.
No matter how much I want to, I can’t keep my hands from shaking. I just lied to royalty to save us from death, and even with the information the Player gave us, I’m still not sure where we are.
“Well…” I swallow past the lump in my throat and turn to face Declan. “I suppose all that’s left to say isyou’re welcome.”
He presses a long finger to his chest. “What exactly should I be thanking you for?”
“For saving you from becoming a kebab. Or did you miss the part where they were about to flambé your ass because you didn’t know when enough was enough?”
“Didn’t realize you were looking for a thank-you.”
