Page 36 of Play of Shadows
Her eyes widened, just a fraction– then she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head.
One thing my grandmother taught me: never hesitate in a duel. I swung my sword down, hard and fast as my muscles would allow, hoping through sheer physical force to make up for my weapon’s lack of sharpness.
With depressing ease, Shariza caught my wrist before it dropped below my shoulder and took my other hand in her own. Before I knew what was happening, the two of us were twirling on the stage, hand in hand, leaving the wooden weapon clattering to the floor.
Peals of laughter exploded from the audience. It must’ve appeared to them as if Shariza and I had launched into an impromptu waltz. The musicians at the back of the stage kicked off into a merry tune, soon drowned out by even more wild applause from the crowd.
I glanced down at my chest, still expecting to see the hilt of her dagger, but there was no blade, no blood.
What happened to her weapon?
‘Over there,’ Shariza said, pretending to let me lead even as she turned me round so that I was again facing the cheering audience. There, three rows from the back: a coin being held up that was no longer silver, but gold.
The signal’s changed!
After a few more rousing turns, Shariza gracefully thrust me back into the arms of a confused and irritated Roslyn. The audience laughed again at the bewildered look that passed between the two supposed lovers.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Roz demanded.
‘Quiet yourselves,’ Ornella warned from the wings, still garbed in the bland grey gown and wimple of Ajelaine’s serving woman. ‘Something’s afoot.’
Her words were prescient, for the applause stopped abruptly.
Roslyn gasped and a heartbeat later yanked me down onto bended knee in the customary obeisance due the Duke of Pertine.
And there he was: Duke Monsegino, rising from his seat near the back, removing a plain grey cloak and floppy traveller’s hat that overshadowed his angular jaw and smooth, elegant features. His left hand was pocketing something.
The bastard saw the audience applauding and halted the assassination. . .
‘My worthy Director,’ Monsegino began, his rich tenor ringing out through the theatre as if he were delivering his own opening lines, ‘this is indeed a clever innovation you’ve brought to the operato, splitting the play over several nights.’ He gave a musical chuckle. ‘Especially in that it now requires us, your entirely enchanted and– dare I say?–captiveaudience, to pay for each evening’s performance if we wish to enjoy the privilege of experiencing this remarkable tale in its entirety.’ He wagged a finger at the stage. ‘Rather sneaky of you, Lord Director.’
The other nobles in attendance laughed along, thoughnervously, as many hadn’t yet determined if the duke was about to express his displeasure at this obvious grab for coin.
Monsegino allowed that uncertainty to hang in the air a good long time before he finally said, ‘I, for one, will eagerly return tomorrow.’
The entire audience erupted, the shouts of ‘Hear, hear!’ and ‘Brava, Bravisima!’ as much in relief as enthusiasm. The duke turned on his heel and the crowd scampered back to make way for him. They followed him up the aisle towards the exit like the train of a long, glittering bride’s cloak.
When Roslyn led the whole company in a final bow and held it as the audience departed, I asked in a whisper, ‘What on earth happened after we kissed?’
She shot me a wry grin. ‘We never got that far. You passed out before our lips touched, you flaccid pansy. Certainly did the job on the audience, though. Apparently passion withheld is even more enticing to these fancy aristos than seeing it fulfilled.’ She reached out a finger and touched my lips. ‘Pity. For a moment there, I felt like I reallywasAjelaine.’
The chattering gaggle from the nobles died down as they fled the building for their salons. The entire cast and crew were left on the stage sharing stunned glances, all save Shariza. The Black Amaranth had disappeared without a word.
She saves me, she nearly kills me, and then she’s gone again.
Giddy from relief and exhaustion, I found myself mumbling the old children’s game:Friend, lover, spouse, imagining myself tugging the spiked, poisoned petals from a black amaranth as the words changed intoFriend, lover, cold-blooded-assassin-who-plans-to-murder me; friend, lover, cold-blooded-assassin-who-plans-to-murder me—
My confused reverie ended when an elderly usher burst into the auditorium and ran down the aisle wheezing, ‘My Lord Director– what do we do? We’ve sold out the performance!’
‘For the saints’ sake, Jario, calm yourself,’ Shoville urged, descending the stairs from the stage to place a soothing hand on the old man’s shoulder. ‘We had but a third of the house—’
But Jario was shaking his head. ‘No, sir, I mean we’ve sold outtomorrow’sperformance.’
‘Excellent news,’ Beretto proclaimed. ‘Let Pertine’s finest shower us with their grati—’
‘No, you great oaf,’ Jario interrupted, momentarily forgetting his place in the company. ‘They’re demanding more seats and we don’t have any– that’s what I’m trying to tell you.Everyone here tonight? They’reallinsisting on tickets for their friends and family. Lady Vendaris wantsten! And by the time those at the back of the queue got to me, we’d completely sold out.’ He looked helplessly up at Shoville. ‘They’re threatening my ushers, sir– they’re saying if we deny them tickets tonight, we’ll find ourselves hanging from posts and crowned with iron spikes on the morrow!’
Shoville rubbed at his jaw, his gaze going to the rows of empty seats. ‘Sell another. . . let’s say fifty tickets. In the morning we’ll put in extra seats. We’ll use the aisles. Charge extra– another five grins apiece– for the “exclusive seats”.’
