Page 32 of The Rebel's Prize

Her lips curved. "I guess tonight will just have to be a surprise, then." She kept her voice low, as though she didn't want to draw attention.

They weren't the only ones speaking Illvyan. Towns on the trade routes attracted travelers as well as traders, and Illvyan was the common tongue of the empire.

She fanned herself with the program.

He almost wished he had one, too. The air was thick inside the theater, warmed by the lanterns and the number of people in the audience. Tonight's performance was popular. Fallea was close to the border of Miseneia and Sasskine, and the innkeeper had mentioned part of the performance would be Sasskinian music. Maybe that was the attraction. Which lowered the likelihood of it being Deandra's troupe, but it was still an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. Stumbling over Deandra accidentally would be the best outcome they could hope for.

The crowd began to hush, the curtains rose, and the play began. It was a Miseneian form—not quite an opera, not quite a play—with some songs between the scenes. He could follow the plot, such as it was, easily enough, it being a typical tale of ill-fated lovers.

He kept his attention on the stage, trying to ignore the fact that if he moved his arm just slightly, he would be touching Chloe's. But there were no signs of magic being used onstage. The effects were well done, but they were nothing he hadn't seen a hundred times before. Eventually he gave up trying to detect magic and settled back to watch. The music was pretty, though he didn't understand the words of the songs. And the short play—fortunately in Illvyan—that followed was even funny in parts.

Chloe's laughter, even disguised by the illusion, did something to ease the pit of tension that seemed to constantly fill his stomach. But by the time the final curtain fell, the weight of the illusions had grown heavier, requiring more of his focus to hold them steady. Not much longer, at least. He could remove them once they were safely back at the inn.

It seemed, though, that the audience was in no hurry to leave. The applause went on and on, and then the crowds lingered, chatting and laughing rather than clearing the aisles. He bit back his rising frustration.

Chloe leaned a little closer. "I didn't notice anything, did you?"

"No. There was no magic being used that I could detect."

She sighed. "I guess we try again in the next town."

"Agreed. I'd still like to try to find out a little more about the troupe. It shouldn't take long to go backstage."

One of her eyebrows lifted. "You're not—" She hesitated, then continued, voice barely audible. "—a marq here. Are you sure they'll let you backstage?"

"Technically, I'm a marq everywhere," he whispered back. "But I don't need to throw the weight of a title around. I've never met actors who don't want to meet their admiring audience. I'm sure we'll manage."

He stood and offered her a hand. She took it but then pulled free again once she was out of her seat, smoothing her skirts, the gesture a handy excuse.

The loss of the brief touch made his stomach twist again, and his jaw tightened.

Chloe walked ahead of him into the foyer. He kept a close watch on the people moving around them, just in case, letting his eyes roam across the entire room, making sure he hadn't missed anything. A notice board next to the box office caught his eye, the colorful papers pinned to it drawing attention. He was too far away to read what they said, but likely they were the flyers used to tell patrons about forthcoming performances. The opera houses and theaters in Lumia used the same methods, even if the posters were more elaborately illustrated and displayed in extravagant gilt frames.

"Wait here. I just want to check something," he said to Chloe.

He wove through the dwindling crowd and was pleased to see his suspicions proved correct. Better still, the lists were written in both Miseneian and Illvyan, so he could make sense of it. It was indeed a list of dates with names of various performers and troupes listed beside them. A few of them he recognized as Miseneian and Kharenian, but many of the theater troupe names were Illvyan, offering no hint of their origins. The box office itself was closed, the curtain across the front of the small booth pulled shut, with no sign of any of the young boys who had been selling tickets earlier.

His mouth twisted. Eager as he was to return to the inn and release the illusions, they were leaving too early in the morning to have a chance to return and ask then. He would have to try backstage after all.

He turned back to the list, committing it to memory. Perhaps one of them might mean something more to Chloe. One thing he'd learned in his years in the judiciary was that most people were not as clever as they thought they were, and it was often small details that revealed their guilt or innocence. Things they would never have dreamed might expose the truth about them.

He turned to beckon her over, but she was talking to a short redheaded woman who he recognized as one of the singers from the performance.

The two of them were laughing, the redhead looking pleased. And if Chloe had charmed her, she might be the easiest way for them to learn more about the troupe and get backstage if they needed to. He hurried back.

Chloe smiled as he joined them. "Luc, this is Sa Maibe. She sang that beautiful song in the middle of tonight's performance, the one we liked so much."

Sa Maibe's smile widened, and her gray-blue eyes looked pleased with the compliment. "Your wife is too kind, but I am glad you enjoyed the performance."

"We did indeed," Lucien agreed. He shot a look at Chloe, but she gave no indication that she needed his assistance in whatever her plan was, so he decided to wait and play along. After all, she was the diplomat, not him.

"I told Sa Maibe about the plan in our town to build a theater," Chloe continued with a smile. "I was asking her if she knows about the business side of how the troupes arrange where they are to perform."

Clever.He smiled encouragingly at Sa Maibe. "That would be useful indeed. Please, Sa Maibe, don't let me interrupt." He broadened his smile. He wasn't a natural charmer like Valentin or Charl, but he knew well enough that women found him attractive and how to use that when he had to. Even with his face disguised, he hoped his smile would still have the desired impact.

Sa Maibe blinked up at him once, dimples flashing in her cheeks, then turned her attention back to Chloe, which he appreciated.

"I was telling your wife that my husband runs our troupe, but unfortunately we only work in Miseneia and Sasskine," she said. "That circuit is large enough to keep us occupied, and as you can see, our particular art form involves the traditions of those two countries, and there is less of an appetite for it elsewhere. From time to time, we have been invited to festivals that are celebrating the width of culture in the empire elsewhere, but those trips are long and can be disruptive to our usual schedules. But there are troupes, of course, that travel far and wide. Some go as far north as Elenia and Partha.

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