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“He’s herding him,” Noa whispers. “See the rows moving? God he is good! I want to be in there so bad.”

At the ten-minute mark, there is a shriek. “That was my good knee!”

Valli’s shoulders drop a little, and I place my hand on her arm, willing her not to give up on him yet.

By fifteen minutes, we are back to silence. My chest grows tight, and I check the camera feeds on my phone, then force myself to put it away. Vesper can see the entire perimeter, so if anything happens, we will be the first to know.

At seventeen minutes, the whole field shudders, radiating from the middle.

“He’s fine,” I tell them.

Almost twenty minutes down, and a new noise starts. Noa excitedly squeals and then slaps both of his hands over his mouth.

“Is he . . . throwing corn at him?” Valli asks.

“Sounds like it,” Noa says.

After twenty-five minutes, the cornstalks part, and the Jester appears. He is laughing, and his face paint is smeared. A length of rope trails off one ankle, and his hands are tied together loosely in front. He makes it to the grass and rolls onto his back, then lies there wheezing with laughter.

“That was five stars. The herding, his patience, and the restraint. He had me dead inside my head at the five-minute mark.” He holds up his bound wrists. “Also, he tied these where I could reach the release, which is the single most insulting act of courtesy I have ever experienced.”

Valli is laughing, and Noa shouts that test one was a success.

The corn parts again, and Cave steps out. His eyes are wild as he looks around, and I know that look. He isn’t done; this has merely scratched the surface. He finds who he is looking for, singling out Valli, and crosses the grass to be closer to her.

Her laughter dies, but she holds her ground, chin up. He stops close enough that she has to tip her head all the way back, and everyone goes quiet.

“Run,” Cave says.

Valli hands me the clipboard without breaking eye contact.

“No,” she replies.

The sound that Cave makes is animalistic; it’s enough to send shivers down your spine. In one motion, she is off the ground and over his shoulder.

But Valli is laughing and beating against his back as he stalks toward the corn.

“It was nice knowing you, Valli, you lucky woman!” Noa shouts as they disappear.

“So,” the Jester says. “Is that part of the evaluation?”

Noa laughs. “Extra credit.”

The three of us sit along the fence line—Vero already vanished mid-chase without telling anyone—while from somewhere in the middle of the field drift Valli’s shrieks, then laughs.

It fills my heart when I hear Cave’s voice.

“Smart men do not test my patience . . . Brave women do. You woke the beast, little thief. And now you feed him.”

“Holy shit,” Noa exclaims. “Did that not sound like a riddle and more like him actually talking?”

I nod.

“Okay,” the Jester says, jumping down from the fence. “That’s my cue to exit. Some performances are not for everyone.”

“You get used to it,” Noa says.

“Do you really?” he asks.