Act I Scene XXI
ten years ago
“She’s having a strange reaction to the gold,” says a woman’s voice. “It’s eating away at the flesh.”
I wake, thinking I must have gone my entire life with this awful throbbing sensation at my throat. It hurts too much to think of anything else. Whispers of memory nudge at my mind—my classroom, Professor Ariti. I was supposed to answer a question when the room went dark.
Now I’m on some sort of cot. Shadows talk by the door, hardening into the shapes of people. The second voice belongs to my brother. “I’ll take her home. Please don’t tell our mother.”
“How are you feeling, Riven?” says a third voice.
I shift my gaze to a pair of bright hazel eyes at the end of my cot.
He appears a few years older than Galen’s twelve, and he’s neatly packing what might be healer supplies into a bag, the clasp of it catching on a wad of cotton wrapped around his hand.
“Bad,” I answer without thinking, my new mark diluting any untruths that might have softened the word. “Who are you?”
“Sometimes marks don’t take cleanly. I’m the person who gets called in when they don’t.” He offers me a wink. “Take care, Riven.” With that, he pats my hand and stands to leave.
My attention stirs back to my brother and the school nurse in the doorway.
“Has she?” the nurse says, voice unsteady. “Was she exposed to that—”
“Whatever you’re insinuating…” Galen’s answer is too hushed to catch the rest. But my mind fills it in. A Player.
The nurse shakes her head. “If any sort of Craft may have entered her blood—”
I think back—the Player’s golden blood all over my hands, sinking into my skin…
“Nothing to worry about here,” interrupts the hazel-eyed healer. “Just a bad reaction. Let her rest and send word if it gets worse.” With that, he leaves before the nurse can object.
My fingers twist at the bandage secured tightly around my neck. The pressure is uncomfortable, so I pull at it—
“Riven?” Galen calls, pushing past the nurse. “Riv, don’t touch it!”
He bats away my prying hands and clumsily adjusts the bandage. Squinting at the lights, I recognize Galen’s silver eyes hovering over me.
“My throat hurts.” My mind is unable to focus on anything else. “And I’m cold.”
“It’s an allergy.” Galen blows a lock of chestnut hair out of his face, throwing an anxious look at the door. “We’re going home.”
No! My mind spins. We’re supposed to practice the Three Compliments Rule today in class. I’ve already thought of four for Noah. And a few insults for other classmates.
“Can you stand?” asks Galen.
A strange feeling builds hotly in my chest. I pin my lips shut, looking to the door, where the nurse watches me like an escaped animal. Galen reaches for my shoulders and pulls me upright, startling when I violently pull away. “Riven?” His eyes cloud. “What’s wrong?”
I know the things I am supposed to say: “I’m scared. I’m hurt. I’m hungry.” Things that would make Galen nod and say, “Let’s get you home.”
But I can’t tell lies anymore, and the feeling is bubbling up my throat.
“Riv, what is it?” Galen presses.
I blink. “I’m angry.”