Page 2 of Quiver

Raising a fist to shake at anyone who dared doubt her resolve, she tilted back her head, ready to defy even heaven, then nearly pitched forward as the man behind the camera cut her off.

“That’ll do for today,” he said curtly.

She sucked in a shocked breath, as if some part of her soul had been snatched from her body. She always felt disoriented when the curtain fell, forcing her to relinquish the character she’d been filled with, but rarely did the process happen so unexpectedly.

She blinked a few times, but her vision remained blurry, so she lifted her hands to rub her eyes.

They hadn’t even let her finish.

“We’ll be in touch with your agent,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just robbed her in broad daylight.

The sound of rustling paper brought her back into the space, and she dropped her hands. Sophia LeBlanc was hastily shoving folders into a bag, while Talia Stamos whispered something to her.

“You won’t be calling me,” Kye said matter-of-factly.

That caused the others to still. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been aware of their shared reality, but few of them ever said the quiet part out loud. It was part of the social contract they’d all agreed to. Most auditions remained open-ended, so both sides could tell themselves whatever lies they needed in order to keep going.

Only this time Kye didn’t want to keep going.

The realization pricked her chest, embedding itself like an arrow that would either have to be pulled out or pushed through. The illusion filled her brain and spilled out of her mouth. “You aren’t going to call anyone back because you’re looking for authenticity, but you’ve set yourself up to fail.”

That got Sophia LeBlanc’s full attention, as she straightened and leveled a dangerous sort of glare at Kye. Electricity began to crackle through the small confines of the room, and she rushed to get her last words out before she got struck by lightning.

“No one can show you whether or not they’re battle-ready in a Midtown high-rise. No one will find gravel in their veins on a smoothly shellacked floor, and no one will shake rocks from overhanging cliffs when they’re surrounded by glass and steel.”

“You recommend holding auditions in the Scottish Highlands, perhaps?” One corner of Sophia’s lips curled up sardonically. “I agree, which is why I’m off to catch a flight instead of spending more time justifying myself to you, or anyone else of your ilk.”

“My … ilk?” Kye’s jaw twitched. “You never saw any of what I’m made of. You didn’t offer the time or the space.”

“Ms. …” She seemed to search for Kye’s name, showcasing how little of an initial impression she’d managed to make.

“Manchester.”

“Right. Ms. Manchester, we’ve seen over a hundred actresses here, and none of the others had a problem with the setup, which might suggest the issue lies with you.”

“Or,” she shot back quickly, “maybe the role didn’t matter to them as much as it does to me. I’m in love with this character in a way I haven’t experienced in ten years. I care about her enough to want to see her given everything she deserves.”

“And you think she deserves you?”

“Yes.” She didn’t waver in the answer, nor did she stop there. “I believe I could bring an authenticity to this role that can’t possibly be showcased in a small studio. I feel her in my bones.”

“Sadly, your bones won’t appear on camera.” Sophia picked up her bag. “And you’ve already had more of my time than you’ve earned.”

Panic welled in Kye as she drifted away on a tide she couldn’t control. She didn’t know what to do other than paddle against the current with all her might, and in her frenzied brain, she grasped for anything she might use as leverage. “I can shoot, and I can ride.”

Sophia stilled again, but this time Talia Stamos spoke first. “At the same time?”

She nodded, buying her voice time to catch up with where her mind had leapt. “I grew up attending mounted archery competitions. I can handle a mount and a bow the way other actresses can walk and talk.”

The casting director turned to look at the women behind him, eyebrows raised in interest, clearly knowing his place enough not to speak out of turn, but Sophia dashed his hopes with a shake of her head.

“You managed to make an interesting case for a callback. I’ll give you credit there, but I’m intimately familiar with the edge of desperation in your voice, and while I respect the hunger behind it, I also suspect you’re running on adrenaline laced with a pinch of terror. In my experience, people in such a precarious position will say whatever they need to in order to achieve salvation.”

“I’m not lying.”

“And yet, I still don’t believe you.”

Thalia Stamos touched her arm, and Sophia softened slightly as she turned toward the writer, who spoke so softly Kye couldn’t hear her.