Page 55 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

“Art and theater have always been a joy for those going through the bleakest parts of life. Whether for the performers like you, or the patrons who come for entertainment, art is supposed to comfort in times like these.”

“I suppose…”

“Some of the best art comes from pain—widespread pain, mind you. When Shakespeare was alive, death rates were astounding.”

“And the musicians were still playing when the Titanic sank.” My smile is dry, but it’s there. It’ssomething.

“Exactly.” She chuckles. “Lighting the fire is difficult in these conditions, and not everyone can do it, but it’s possible. The flame of creativity burns eternal. People have been lighting it since the dawn of entertainment—no, since the dawn ofhumanity.”

“I guess I’ll need to find the fire for myself.”

“Precisely.” Her eyes sparkle, and she walks away. “Have a good day, Ms. Cruz.”

I’m left alone, but her words light something in me after all—a fire to perform diligently, not only in the school play, but in my other role.

The role I’m playing for the Order of the Bitter Hunt.

After my classes,I return to my dormitory to find a letter slipped under the door.

The black envelope and gold stamp tell me it’s a letter from my father. I know his stationery well. I open the envelope with shaky hands, and my weary eyes scan the loopy cursive.

The inside lacks the formality of the outer layers. There are only two words written on the thick parchment:Midnight. Dowry.

“Hell,” I mutter, slipping the invitation into my bag.

I suppose this means it’s time.

The instructions are simple enough. The Dowry building is one I know well—it’s the one our theater is in, after all. Tonight will be a performance, indeed.

I perch on the edge of my bed, drawing out my phone to text Jun.

Margaux

Did you get an invitation?

Jun

I did.

Margaux

And I assume we’re going?

Jun

Obviously.

And we’re going together

Before you ask another unnecessary question

I roll my eyes.

Being on friendly terms with Jun is strange—but moments like these remind me we’re not friendly. Not really.

Margaux

Wear black.