I was going to die it would be with blood on my hands.
There was so much to do before the next scene really started. I needed to get my costume on, my makeup, make sure everyone knew what to do.
“Places,” I shouted. The Devani turned to their poses, some kneeling to create levels of interest, some holding magic between their fingers, some in poses inspired by Bob Fosse. I rushed to Grigfen’s side. The three had spent time with one another, so he needed to be down center in the heart of the action.
I pressed his shoulders parallel to the edge. “Chest out so you don’t show your back to the cameras, and when in doubt say nothing. I’ll help keep the scene moving forward, so don’t worry about that. Just try to act afraid, and don’t move. Your death will be quick and painless, and I promise it will be at the most dramatic time possible. Okay? You’re sure to get plenty of screen time.”
I glanced at Andrew. He knelt on the ground, his blade wings arched. I really should kill him now. It was just so many elements to try to balance at once.
And if they turned his loyalty to their side, which they probably would since he was a spineless traitor (in the game, in real life he was kind of charming) …
I should probably kill him.
But waiting, in a way, amped the drama. We had to keep the audience guessing. Besides, I liked him too much to give him a boring death. We’d spent a few hours together tasting Savak delicacies. I could eat anything here and not think of calories even once. It was glorious.
I paused and took in the set. The Historians spinning at the center of the ballroom, Whirligig lights floating above the Devani and Devout, making a perfect tableau. Servants in the graceful livery I’d designed, the mosaic tile floors glistening in the moons-light. Only the tears in the sky marred the perfection of the scene. I scowled at it. If there was time, perhaps I could have made a screen to block the flaw in an otherwise perfect stage. But my armies would fly in from above when the time came, so it was best just to ignore it.
The show must go on.
Costume, weapons, and crafted tricks for up my sleeves. That’s what I needed to focus on.
“No one move,” I said. “I need a quick change but I will be right back.”
It was finally time to wear my favorite costume. My army at the beach would keep Dagney and Ryo busy for a while, but as quickly as they moved, I’d have to cut the makeup I had planned, which was an absolute shame.
Stealth mode.
I flew down the stairs toward my rooms and most especially my costume closet. My heartbeat raced, but it was just preshow jitters. Warm-ups should calm it down. “Unique New York, unique New York. You know you need unique New York.” I blew raspberries like a horse to loosen my jaw and shook out my arms so I could get blood flowing. I needed every inch of me to be awake and active. Dynamic fingers. Fill that stage with your presence.
In my rooms, I glanced in my triple lighted mirror and opened my closet door.
More than any other scene I’d done so far, this moment was what would make me a star. I would either kill them all to claim my victory, or else they’d team up and I’d have the most epic death scene since Romeo and Juliet. Either way, I needed to channel Meryl and earn it.
My costume was steamed, loaded, and hung on a hook on the back of the door. I dressed in stealth mode. The cameras may have caught glimpses of the costume as I constructed it, but I was not going to give away the full effect until the right moment. In stealth mode, the cameras couldn’t see the gilded crown rising like horns above my head, or my smallest helmet, designed more to hide my hibisi drip than to offer protection, highlighting my cheekbones. I wore a stark bloodred dress, expertly cut with long bell sleeves to hide the poison blade shooter, a high neckline and a low back, perfect to display my stained glass Wingship.
I folded my mechanical wings tight against my back, and then wrapped myself in an ordinary Historian’s cloak. I lowered a plain mask, and the only thing that marked me different from another Historian