The second act was somehow better than the first. The Webhon Players teased the line between tragedy and comedy; Gareth cried one moment, then cried from laughter the next. The performance got more fantastical as the play went on, the Players incorporating stage tricks like metallurgy to make it more real. Gareth cried again when it was over, not because it was sad, but because it was over.

Isobel hung on his arm, leading him out of the box and downstairs. Gareth searched for Leandros among the crowd, and it was only a prickling sensation at the back of his neck that made him turn around. Instead of Leandros, another familiar figure leaned against the wall by the stage doors, the line of his body tense, his wary gaze on the crowd. He started in surprise when his eyes met Gareth’s.

Without thinking, Gareth grabbed Isobel’s hand and pulled her back toward the doors, moving against the crowd. “Mr. Hallisey!”

Roman responded with a bright smile and a lazy wave.

In a whisper, Gareth explained to Isobel, “He’s the one who helped me the night I got mugged. Roman Hallisey’s his name.”

“What a strange coincidence,” Isobel said.

“I knew he was connected with the Webhon Players, but— hello, Mr. Hallisey!”

“Gareth,” Roman greeted as they approached, “I was wondering if I’d see you here tonight. Your eye looks like it’s healing well.”

“Yes, thank you.” Gareth touched his cheekbone self-consciously

“And this must be the beautiful Mrs. Ranulf,” Roman said, extending a hand. When Isobel offered her own, Roman raised it to his lips and kissed it. “Your husband talks about you a lot when he’s drugged, did you know that?”

“I wasn’t aware. I can’t say I’ve ever drugged him.”

Roman laughed. “Well, he doesn’t do you justice,” he said, with another kiss to her hand.

“Aren’t you cute,” Isobel said. The considering look she gave him didn’t quite match the tone of her words, and when Roman’s gaze again darted over the crowd, she asked, “Are you waiting for someone?”

Roman’s attention snapped back to her, her considering look now mirrored on his own face. “No, no,” he said smoothly, “Crowds just make me nervous.”

“I see.”

Roman lit up, then, and a mischievous grin slipped onto his face. “Would you two like to see something exciting?”

Gareth opened his mouth to decline, but without hesitation, Isobel said, “Of course.”

Roman nodded back at the stage door and opened it for them with a flourish.

“Are we allowed back there?” Gareth asked doubtfully.

“You are if you’re with me. I want to introduce you to someone.”

Roman ushered them through the door. Unlike the rest of the theater, backstage was plain and messy, the Players already beginning their post-show cleanup. People in costumes ran back and forth carrying crates and dismantling set pieces. It was like a dance, one Gareth and Isobel were careful not to get in the middle of.

Roman led them down a flight of steps, stopping so abruptly at the bottom that Isobel nearly ran into his back. He knocked on a plain door— everything down here was plain, so unlike the rest of the building. A moment later, the door opened, answered by the actress that played Edith. She threw her arms around Roman.

“What did you think?” she asked.

“Absolutely enchanting, Dinara,” Roman answered, picking her up and giving her a twirl. “You stole the show.”

Dinara laughed and pulled back, finally noticing the Ranulfs. “Oh, hello,” she said breathlessly, her voice softer than it had been on stage. “Roman, who are your friends?”

“Di, meet Gareth and Isobel Ranulf. Gareth, Isobel, this is Dinara Connell.”

“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Connell,” Gareth said, shaking Dinara’s hand. “Your performance tonight was so moving, I nearly cried.”

“Liar,” Isobel said. “You did cry.”

Dinara tried to hide a laugh. “Thank you. Come in, won’t you?”

The inside of the dressing room was simple and bare, not what Gareth would’ve expected for the star of a Unity show. He took a moment, while Dinara regaled them all about a costume mishap that happened in the second act, to study Roman.

It was different, seeing the young man like this— among friends, not in a darkened alley holding a bloodstained sword. And that’s definitely what Roman was— young, except for his eyes. They struck Gareth as strange, serious when nothing else about him seemed to be. He smiled, he laughed, and his eyes stayed hard and wary.

Dinara, beside him, was stunning, even out of costume and clearly exhausted. She had deep brown skin and her hair, which had been pulled back during the performance, now fell in tight ringlets to her shoulders. She had a gentle air, different from her portrayal of Edith. Gareth envied the two of them. They had a youthful vivacity that had long escaped him— if he ever had it to begin with— and they were beautiful together.

“We’re all going out to celebrate,” Dinara said. “You two should come.”

“I think we might be overdressed,” Gareth said, nodding at his suit and Isobel’s dress.

“Half the Players will be going in costume,” Roman said. “You won’t be the ones standing out. Come on, there’ll be music and drinking and dancing. It’ll be fun.”

Isobel squeezed Gareth’s hand. When he looked at her, he saw excitement in her eyes. “I told the governess not to expect us back until late,” she told him.

Never able to deny his wife anything and feeling more than a little excited himself, he said, “We’d be happy to join you, then.”

Roman answered with his bright, boyish smile, and Gareth felt he’d made the right choice. Some unidentifiable quality of Roman’s made Gareth want to earn his favor, make him grace Gareth with that smile that promised adventure and mystery.

“That’s the spirit, Gareth! Wait till you see how the Webhon Players party.”

Gareth gave him a tentative smile back. “I have to go find a friend of mine, first. I need to cancel our plans.”

Gareth would have plenty of time to get to know Leandros on the road, he reasoned. Roman and Dinara, though, he may never see again and they were both so interesting. He wanted to learn their secrets.

“Bring them along!” Dinara said in her lilting accent, adding, “If they’re fun.”

“I don’t know him well, but I believe he could be. His name is Leandros Nochdvor.”

“Not him,” Roman said, surprising everyone. The smile was gone from his face. “Don’t invite him.”

Gareth blinked at Roman, taken aback by his sudden chill. Dinara frowned as well, brows furrowing. Under the weight of their stares, Roman blinked and shook himself, his suddenly dark expression clearing to something carefully innocent. “I mean…he’s from Alfheim, isn’t he? You know how they are. No fun. And he’s…he’s a noble. I just don’t think wherever we go will be up to his standards.”

Dinara’s brow furrowed further, but if she thought Roman was hiding something— as Gareth did— she didn’t comment. Gareth, too, decided not to push, even if this made him more curious. “I understand. I do need to find him and cancel, though.”

“I’ll catch up with you outside, then,” Roman said. He smiled and kissed Dinara on the cheek, but there was still something tense to him. “I think I left something back at my seat.”

Though there were shared looks, nobody commented as he slipped away.

Gaeth, Isobel, and Dinara made their way to go find Leandros. Leandros understood, as Gareth knew he would, but made Gareth promise to get drinks with him before they left Gallontea.

And as promised, Roman caught up with them when they were about to cross the bridge. He took over leading their group— about twenty or so in total— to a nondescript tavern with a sign of a snarling wolf hanging above the door. Music and laughter drifted out to the street, and the warm glow streaming out the windows greeted them.

“Welcome,” Roman said, gesturing grandly, “To the Hungry Hound, my inn of choice whenever I visit Gallontea.”

A hound, then, not a wolf.

The Hungry Hound Tavern was the kind of place Gareth might write about in a book, for how cozy it was, with the warmth radiating from the wide fireplace, the smell of garlic and spices heavy in the air, the music drifting gently over from the violin being played in the corner. Later in the evening, after everyone had their share of drinks, the group asked the violinist to play a livelier tune, then pushed the tables this way and that to clear a space for dancing.

Isobel couldn’t drink because of the pregnancy, so Gareth didn’t, either. They danced a few songs but spent the rest of their evening enjoying the company of strange and interesting people. Roman and Dinara spent longer on the dance floor, though as the evening wore on and they both had more to drink, their movements could be described less as dancing and more as something that wouldn’t be tolerated in Gareth’s usual sort of establishment.

Roman never crossed the line into drunk, though. Gareth knew because he was watching closely, hoping to even the score after Roman had gotten to see him so high on painkillers the other night. Roman drank as much as the rest, but aside from his flushed cheeks and boundless energy, it barely seemed to touch him. Between dances, he told his own stories— fantastic tales that Gareth had trouble believing— and listened with rapt attention to others. Even Gareth’s, which Gareth didn’t feel deserved such enthusiasm. He made sure the Ranulfs were always included in conversations and demanded that everyone have just as much fun as he was having.

But when a fight broke out between one of the players and another patron, he shed this enthusiasm like a mask. He stepped between them, stopping the fight and moving so quickly Gareth wouldn’t have believed his eyes if he hadn’t been sober. When both parties backed down, Roman slipped the mask back on and returned to Dinara’s arms.

If Gareth had thought this evening would give him insights into Roman Hallisey’s mysteries, he’d been wrong. All he had were more questions.

Still, Gareth couldn’t remember having so much fun in his life. In the early hours of the morning, Gareth carried Isobel home on his back, her heels clutched in her hands, her arms wrapped around his neck. They both hummed their own clashing melodies under their breaths and thought, for the first time in a while, of things more pleasant than missing kings and Gareth’s upcoming departure.