Page 2 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

She lifts a brow. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We simply must talk about my part in the play.”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling. “Must we? I thought the casting list would have made your part quite clear.”

“Clear? I’m—well, shocked is an understatement.”

“Are you truly so surprised?”

My jaw drops. How can she doubt my performance? I thought she knew me better than this.

“You know how hard I work at my craft. I live and drink theater. It’s my greatest love, the only lifelong affair I’ve ever allowed myself to have—and the only one Iwillhave.”

Before today, I would have assumed Professor Connolly understood this about me. We’ve done eight shows together, and one little sheet of paper has me questioning everything. Does she know me at all?

I love the theater so much that, even amid the death and destruction on campus, I poured my all into practicing for the audition. There were so many times I blew Tobey off to run lines and kiss ass. Both are important skills for an actor, or so my father taught me.

That was all for nothing.

Maybe I could have done more for my friends—for Poppy, for Tobey—if I hadn’t wasted my time trying to impress Professor Connolly.

“Your dedication to the theater has been apparent to me for years,” she says. “But this year is different, and I believe you knew that before you came barging in. You’ve plateaued.”

My jaw drops. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I think highly of you, but your audition this semester was… disappointing, to say the least. You memorized your lines, but it’s as if you were a million miles away, speaking rather than performing.”

Of course, I was. My best friend was running around, hunting my other best friend’s murderer—an issue that was only partially resolved.

I swallow thickly. “What can I do?”

“You’ve become too comfortable, and I don’t know if I’m to blame or if we can look to the chaos of Strode to see the reason.”

I inhale slowly, sucking in the maple-scented air—likely from a candle flickering in a corner of the office. “I haven’t?—”

“It’s not a slight against you, merely a concern. This semester has been a strange and terrible time for every student, but it’s over now, Ms. Cruz.” She gives me a sharp look. “While the others are moving on, I feel you haven’t.”

“But I’ve been trying. Honest.”

“It’s all right,” she says, removing her wired spectacles and hanging them on the front of her button-up blouse. “There is noneed to lie to me. Be honest. Are you ready to lead another play right now, after all you’ve been through?”

“I will be.” I hold her gaze. “Just you wait. You will rue the day you ripped the part of the leading lady from my cold, undead hands.”

“That’s the spirit.” She chuckles. “I am not trying to be the villain in your story, Margaux. You have a raw talent most will only ever dream of, but I need to see you using it again. All I ask is to see a small glimmer of the passion you had as an undergrad.”

I rise to my feet. “And you will get it.”

“Ms. Cruz?”

Her voice gives me pause.

“If your performance improves,” she says, “I will let you be Charlotte’s understudy.”

I slam my hands on her desk, my features brightening. “I’ll take it.”

Beggars can’t be choosers, after all…

And after years of being the choosiest of all, I’m stuck begging for scraps. Tobey and Caldwell—my friends, the ones who dragged me into this murder business.Theyare to blame.