Act III Scene VIII
I run as fast as my legs will carry me, my fists full of yellowing pages. In the light, though, they aren’t yellow at all—they shimmer like gold leaf. The texture feels familiar in my hands, soft yet untearable.
When I reach the lobby, I nearly slam into Sil.
SIL: “Riven! Where have you been? Where is Mattia? You’re both late.” He checks his watch. “The Great Dionysia begins in an hour.”
My breaths are coming too quick.
His attention narrows on me—then to the pages clutched in my hands.
“She feels ill…” I murmur, but the words come out awkwardly.
The silence is torment. Slowly, Sil shakes his head at me. “No, she doesn’t,” he replies firmly, staring deep into my eyes.
He knows.
TITUS: “Gods, who is screaming?” He emerges from the staircase, Arius and Parrish just behind him. “Did Jude stumble across his own reflection?”
Sil’s eyes bore into mine and then fall back to the pages. “Oh, Riven,” he says gently, but his tone is grief-stricken. “You weren’t supposed to find that.”
Before he can reach for me, I bolt.
My heart hammers against my rib cage as I run, making a mad dash for the narrow corridor under the lobby staircase.
I have no idea where I’m going.
But I know something I’m not supposed to know.
There, down the hall, a set of doors I’ve seen before. They lead into the arena, where contenders were introduced the first night of the casting call. Mirrors. There are mirrors down there, lining the walls. I remember seeing them.
Slamming into the doors, I race down the stairs.
But with every step, I remember more.
Gold-encrusted mirrors hang over stone walls by the narrow entrance into the arena, the very same one I stood in during my first night in the Playhouse. Eavesdroppers and shadows be damned, I slam my palms into the glass.
“Cassia! Show me Cassia Hesper.”
Astonishingly, an image clears: one of Cassia’s old study, dusty bookshelves stacked against rickety walls. My heart tears a fraction more. After all of this, Cassia left the mirror uncovered for me.
Then: “Riven?”
“Cassia!” My voice sounds shaky and unfamiliar in my own ears.
“Riven, that isn’t you. Is it?” Urgency clips her tone. Her figure steps cautiously into view. She looks much the same, save for the haggard lines beneath her eyes. I know better than to think I can say the same for myself.
Cassia eases back when she lays eyes on me, the fear plain on her face.
There’s a sound like a door banging somewhere in the distance. I don’t know which side of the mirror it comes from.
“I don’t have time to— I…” My words jumble. Then: “Come to the Playhouse!”
In an instant, her expression shifts, distraught. “So it’s true. You’re one of them now.”
“Cass, please,” I plead, breathless as the clip of steps echoes somewhere outside the arena’s entrance. I don’t know how to convey any of it. “You have to stop me.”
“Stop you,” Cass repeats, voice low.
“You have to stop me from doing something terrible,” I urge, desperate.
“If what the papers say is true, it’s far too late for that.”
Flinching, I steal a glance at the pages in my hands. I’m going to do worse.
“No, Riven,” Cassia says, her tone indicating the conversation is over. “I will not go near the Playhouse. Not for you, and not for—”
“Fine!” I yell, my mind racing. “Then—then get a message to the council for me. Okay? Please. There’s something you should know.” I drag my gaze over the pages. “There’s something we should all know.”
A light claps on outside the hall I’m burrowed in. It summons me forward. I grip the sides of the mirror to keep my feet from moving for it.
“I risked my neck and reputation telling the council you would deliver the Lead Player to them. Instead, you have volunteered to take his place.” Her lip curls in disgust, but there’s more than that. Her eyes are full of hurt. “What message could you possibly have now?”
I grit my teeth. “Be honest, Cassia, please. Did my father make you—make you swear not to say—” I swallow, unsure how to even ask this. “Where did I come from?” I land on, enunciating each word, pinning Cassia with my golden stare.
Her face stills. “You are not from over the Cut, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
My chin shoots up. “A half-truth.”
Cassia’s face softens. “It’s said and done, Riven. None of it matters now.”
“What is said and done?”
“Your father, Michail…he had a cousin near the border who was killed by Revelers. Michail took you in. Insisted on it. You couldn’t have been more than three.” She speaks carefully, like I’m a flame to douse.
“Helene isn’t my mother,” I conclude. And Cassia is not my aunt.
“Michail wanted to raise you as their own. You are still family.”
My breaths come quicker as I laugh at the ridiculousness. “Cass, I look like him,” I shout, pointing out the obvious. Helene may not be my mother, but Michail is most certainly my father.
Cassia thinks I was an orphan taken in.
But I’m not. She was fed a lie.
She winces. “I know. Obviously, what Michail said is not…true.” She seems to run out of words. I’m pretty sure the only ones left are: Clearly, he had an affair. Clearly, your mother lied to protect him. Michail wasn’t marked. No one was back then.
Gods. What have I done.
“Go to the council,” I say. “The Great Dionysia has to be stopped.”
It was a plan. This was all a plan.
“And tell them what exactly?” Cassia growls, patience wearing thin.
“I don’t know! Anything!” I say, regretting the lies I swore by in my trial. Realizing I’ve walked right into a trap. “Tell them—tell them they’re holding me here, that I was tricked by a Player. You’re marked; they can’t accuse you of deception.”
“They can accuse me of being outright mad,” she hisses. “And I can certainly accuse you of deception.”
“You can. And you should,” I say, defeated. “Cass, after this conversation, don’t believe another word I say. Ever.”
Not that she needs to know this will be our last conversation anyway.
Cassia looks drained. “What is it you’ve done, Riven?” she whispers.
“It isn’t just what I’ve done. It’s what I’m going to do,” I plead. “You owe me. This is your fault, too.”
Cassia bares her teeth at me. “My fault you walked into the Playhouse?”
“It’s not that I came to the Playhouse, Cassia!” I shout. “The problem is that I came back.”