XIX
THE PLAY
Thunder had rumbled throughout the night, and when day finally arrived, it carried with it an uncomfortable finality, as if Phaethon himself were mounting his father’s chariot for his doomed and fiery arc across the daytime sky. One had only to wait for the time and place where Jupiter would hurl his bolt.
Felix had barely slept that night, his normally confident facade giving way to uncharacteristic panic, rage, and fear. He stood to lose everything he had spent years building in the space of a few hours. Though the sun had risen, and the rest of the company was already awake and eating at the long table in the warehouse, Felix had yet to emerge from his cubiculum to commit fully to the day and whatever it and the Fates had in store.
Electra sat across from him, her hair
