“They fall for that every damned time,” Liza rolled her eyes and began to unbutton the yellow dress and turn it inside out. She put it back on and transformed into a priestly physician, long, black, simple robes to mark her as a member of the Academy of Medicine. A scrawny youth ran to her side carrying a wide brimmed straw hat as though it were made of gold, and retreated the second she took it on set it on her head.

“You’d be surprised,” Wainwright appeared from behind the throne and tossed the crown onto the throne. “I’m sure Arden spikes the mead to keep things interesting.” He unscrewed the mitre’s sphere and added it to the pile of props on the throne before it was promptly wheeled off stage. He produced a long and flat length of steel from behind one of the walls and attached it to the mitre’s shaft. With a flick of the wrist he set the spring mechanism lose and the mitre turned into a sword. “All set?”

Liza nodded.

“Places everyone!” She clapped her hands and the party guests turned into mourners, hats folded in half became mourner’s poultices and canes became tombstones to mark those last in the last great war to ravage their homeland. Liza looked skyward and gave Duffy a signal to open the curtain again, but felt a thud in her chest as the stage rocked as though struck by a cannonball.

“What the fuck was that?” Wainwright took to a defensive stance.

The stage trembled again as though thunder tore the sky apart overhead. The troupe searched frantically for the cause until the jovial cheers from the interlude crowd turned to panicked screams and profanity. Liza and Wainwright darted to the centre of the curtain and poked their heads out into the dusk light. Their eyes widened and their hearts raced and they retreated quickly.

“Liza. Liza, what is happening?” Lilly stumbled over a grave as she tried to get to the curtain to see, but her sister raised a palm to indicate she stay, and pressed a finger to her lips to bring silence into the stage. Another tremble caused the younger actors to whimper, and they huddled together behind the garden walls.

“Did you see where the fire was coming from?” Wainwright whispered to Liza. She shook her head. “It looked like the centre of the royal tent.” He bit his lip. “Or just off left from where the Queen was sat.”

“Everyone, don’t panic.” Liza stepped out into the open again and drew on her magic. She moistened her lips and spoke words of power. “Arm yourselves and return to the stage.” Silver sparks danced into the air, like ethereal embers burning into the hearts and minds of her family. Nobody wasted any time and returned a moment later with billet hooks, swords, rakes, and lengths of chain.

“Good,” she said with a stoic grimace. “We are going to go out there and protect the people in the crowd. Whatever you see, whatever you think is happening do not falter.” The silver sparks turned into a torrent of dancing fire like a dragon’s breath, filling the troupe with courage and obedience.

“Liza, what is going on?” Lilly, tolerant of her sister’s magic unsheathed her rapier and held it loosely in her right hand. “Is there a riot?”

The leading lady shook her head slowly.

“Screw this,” Lilly marched to the curtains and looked out into the darkening night. The crowd were running amok, flames flickered along the eastern length of the royal box, and twisted shadows flickered back and forth through the rooftops along the horizon. “It can’t be…”

“Wraiths.” Wainwright shook his head. “Those are damned Wraiths.”