Tella jolted backward as the opal on her finger pulsed. The colors inside it were moving. The gold line in the center burst like a flame inside the stone, devouring the violet and cherry around its edges until the entire gemstone blazed luminescent amber.
The tower rocked, shaking Tella’s legs. It lasted only a second. But Tella swore that in that moment even the stars outside blinked. The ring had always been pretty, but now it was otherworldly, glowing bright enough to light up her entire hand.
What had Dante done?
White-hot panic moved through Tella’s veins. He must have found the loophole around the ring’s curse. Why did he have to do that for her? He’d said not to worry, that he wasn’t that selfless, but he must have paid a price for the stone to become un-cursed.
Tella trembled and the crown on her head wobbled. She reached up to steady it. But her hand was as shaky as her legs. Instead of righting the crown she knocked it over. It tumbled and hit the ground with a lyrical crash.
“Oh my.” Elantine placed a hand over her mouth.
Tella swallowed a curse. Five sharp pieces of obsidian, tipped in gleaming black opals, stared at her from the floor. It was now a mirror image of the Shattered Crown.
Tella’s voice shook as she said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be, child. I have people who can clean that up for me, and you’ve done nothing wrong.”
But Tella would do something wrong.
Still trembling, she stared at the shattered crown on the floor as her impossible choice became far too clear. Dante had found a way for Tella to get inside her mother’s vault that would require no sacrifice on Tella’s part. Of course, Tella didn’t know if Dante had done it to save her from the stars, or to ensure she’d get the cards. Tella wasn’t even sure which one she wanted to be true. If Dante had sacrificed something to save Tella, what kind of person would she be if she then betrayed him to Jacks? But that was assuming Dante was Legend. Tella still didn’t know who Legend was.
And she wouldn’t know if she didn’t win the game.
But maybe it would be better not to win the game.
Winning the game will come at a cost you will later regret. Nigel had warned Tella of this, though even if he hadn’t, she knew regrets were in her future. If she chose to betray Legend to Jacks so that Jacks could take Legend’s power, Jacks would free the Fates and most likely destroy Legend in the process. But, if Tella didn’t betray Legend, if she gave him the cards with the Fates, he would destroy them. In doing so, Legend would destroy her mother as well, since all the cards were connected.
Tella’s gaze traveled out the window. From so high up the people below were little more than specks of color, lit by the churning stars, the brilliant lanterns, and all the feverish excitement for the last night of Caraval and Elantine’s Eve.
In another story Tella might have gone down there and joined them. She might have drunk spiced wine and danced with strangers. Maybe she’d have even kissed someone beneath the stars. It should have been what she wanted. She told herself to want it. To walk away from the separate game she’d been thrust into and the woman who’d walked away from her. To stop pretending her mother cared. But Elantine’s words about true endings and almost-endings continued to torment Tella.
She wanted to turn her back on her mother, but it felt more like giving up than letting go, settling for less when she had a chance at so much more. Tella didn’t want to let her mother hurt her again. But what if Elantine was right and her mother really had loved her?
Tella’s mother had placed the cards in the stars’ vaults so that no one could get to them. Maybe her mother had never planned on touching them again either. What if she’d offered Tella to the stars, but she’d never intended to give Tella away? Maybe locking the cards in a vault that could only be opened by a cursed key had been Paloma’s way to keep them safe. But then somehow her mother had ended up trapped in a card.
Tella didn’t know when she left the tower—but suddenly she was running down the stairs, rushing toward the courtyard where Caraval was taking place, thinking only of her mother.
38
The air was so thick with magic it fell like confectioner’s sugar on Tella’s tongue, a sweet welcome to a darkly enchanted world. Fates and symbols of Fates were everywhere.
The palatial courtyard had been transformed into a market that looked as if it were something plucked from a myth. There were tents bearing names like:
Her Majesty’s Magical Gowns
Priestess, Priestess’s Charm Emporium
Assassin’s Knives and Killer Neckwear
Aracle’s Magical Glasses
Then there were the signs, giant posters in honor of even more Fates:
Give Mistress Luck a kiss and she’ll give you your heart’s greatest wish.
For a short-lived but good time, find Jester Mad!
If you see the Pregnant Maid, your future is about to change.…
Tella refused to be distracted—she needed to get to the Temple of the Stars, though it was a little harder to move through the courtyard when people started approaching her. A shadowy figure costumed as the Poisoner invited her to taste his poison. A number of Fallen Stars offered her a lick of stardust.
Tella didn’t even bother to respond; she hurried through the crush as quickly as possible. The only moment she stumbled was when she thought she saw Scarlett, dressed as the Unwed Bride in a veil of tears that dripped over her face like weeping diamonds. But if Scarlett knew what Tella was about to do, she would certainly try to stop her.
Tella didn’t want to be stopped. This was her one chance to save her mother, and if she didn’t take it she’d regret it as long as she lived.
During the carriage ride to the Temple District she still felt pangs of guilt at the idea of giving Legend over to Jacks. But Tella imagined it was only because of her infatuation with Dante. Betraying Legend felt like betraying Dante. But maybe they weren’t one and the same. And if Dante was really Legend, then he was the one who’d been betraying Tella all this time.
She reached the Temple of the Stars after the clang of ten bells.
She didn’t need to knock when she arrived at the sanctuary’s forbidding doors. They opened soundlessly, as if the temple were giving her an inaudible hello.
Theron stood on the other side, a tower of a man, made more imposing by the brutal eight-pointed star burned onto his merciless face. He was dressed in the same manner as when she’d met him the night before—thick leathers and a royal-blue cape.
To his credit, Theron didn’t mention Tella’s rapid departure the night before. Whatever he made of her disappearance and reappearance remained guarded by his stoic demeanor.
The slap of Tella’s slippers against the polished floor made the only sound as she followed him inside the shadowed entry. The fiery fountain in the center had not yet been lit, allowing a thick layer of cold to settle.
Tella had lost her cape somewhere in the royal courtyard, leaving her back and arms exposed, so she should have been freezing. Yet her neck dripped sweat as she said, “I’m here to open my mother’s vault.”
Theron’s eyes dropped to Tella’s ring. “You are fortunate to have such a good friend.”
A prickle of fresh unease joined the sweat dripping down her neck as she thought of Dante. “What did he give you to break the curse on the ring?”
“There’s only one way to break the curse. But there is always one way around every curse. In this case, we made an exchange that has temporarily lifted it from your ring. Now do you wish to keep asking questions, or would you like to see your vault?”
“First, tell me what Dante gave you in this exchange.”
“He made us a promise. I cannot tell you what it is, but if you care about him, you’ll want to make sure he keeps his word.”
“What happens if he doesn’t?”
Theron traced the star-shaped brand on his face. “If your Dante fails us, he will die.”
Tella’s mouth went
dry.
Without another word, Theron guided Tella to the door at the back of the foyer, the one watched by the agonized stone statues. He used his ring to unlock the gate.
Warm air smelling of buried mysteries and old magic filled the octagonal annex on the other side. Unlike the entry, this area was not all glowing gold and pearly whites. It was wooden and aged, and filled with the same sort of hushed gravity as the first floor of Elantine’s golden tower. Primeval light ghosted across the grainy floor, while magic, far older than Legend’s or Jacks’s, brushed against the backs of Tella’s hands, tasting her with unseen tongues.
Theron had told the truth when he’d said this temple was not a tourist attraction.
The vaults were buried deep beneath. From the annex, Theron took Tella through a door that led to a winding case of earthy stairs. She didn’t count the number of steps, but it was enough to make her legs sweat beneath her sparkling gown. When they finally reached the bottom, the passages were narrow and dim, lit by a row of candles that looked as if they grew out of the ground. Theron and Tella had to cautiously skirt around them.
Halfway down a corridor so dim Tella could only make out Theron’s outline, he finally stopped in front of a stone door without a handle. “This will open only for you. To gain entrance, all you must do is press your ring to the door. But be warned, the bargain your Dante made with us allows you to open this vault only once. If you choose to remove or leave an object inside here, be very certain about your choice. Once you close this door, the only way you may open it again is by paying your mother’s debt.”
“If I never open it,” Tella asked, “will that undo the bargain that was made on my behalf?”
“No. That vow has already been sealed. To leave the vault locked would be a waste of the sacrifice he has made.”
Sweat coated Tella’s palms. Dante should not have come to her aid. It gave her more hope that he wasn’t Legend. Legend was not known for making sacrifices, and as flattering as it would be if he’d changed for her, Tella silently prayed that wasn’t the case, because she could not do the same for him. She’d come here to save her mother, no matter the cost.
Tella waited for Theron to leave before opening the door to the vault. Unlike the narrow hallway, the room on the other side of the door was wide and beaming with light, illuminated from some unseen source. The center was unoccupied but the walls were lined with milk-white shelves full of fantastical treasure. Lifelike paintings, golden instruments, elaborate weapons, dancing figurines, ancient relics, jeweled tiaras, heavy books, and unlabeled bottles with churning contents that might have been magical.
This had been Paloma’s life before she’d come to Trisda.
Tella gave herself a moment to take every stolen inch of it in. She burned with curiosity—and desire for some of the prettier items—but she didn’t want to waste time, or risk touching anything that might be cursed like her mother’s cards.
Tella kept her hands clasped in front of her as her eyes continued searching, until she spotted the box. An unnatural breeze ghosted across Tella’s shoulders. It was a simple wooden thing, unremarkable save for the halo of darkness throbbing around it, as if the light in the rest of the room could not touch it.
Tella saw nothing else as she crossed over to it and lifted the lid. The cards looked exactly as Tella remembered. Such a dark hue of nightshade they were almost black, with tiny hints of gold flecks that sparkled in the light and swirly strands of deep red-violet embossing, which had once made Tella think of damp flowers, witches’ blood, and magic.
Tella wondered what the cards would show if she tried to read her future now, but she didn’t dare flip any over.
Without so much as grazing a swirl, Tella placed the Aracle atop the deck. Then she retrieved the card imprisoning her mother from where she’d tucked it safely inside her dress.
The halo around the cards pulsed darker, as if adding additional cards had somehow made the deck more powerful.
Tella ignored the ill feeling that came with it. She exhaled, breathing out the heavy press against her chest that warned her to stop. She was almost there. All she needed to do now was pick up the deck and win the game. Then she could have her mother back.
Her hand hovered above the tiny stack, wondering how long it would take Legend to find her. Dante must have told Legend that the cards were in the temple. There was a chance Legend was already waiting on the steps. And Nigel had promised, If you win Caraval, the first face you see will be Legend’s.
Tella took a deep breath. If this was going to work, she needed to summon Jacks before she officially won the game or stepped out of the stars’ temple. She reached into the pocket of her silver gown, fingers fumbling for his luckless coin.
Theron’s voice instantly flooded the vault. “Do not use that vile magic here, or I will close this door and you will never get out.”
Tella ripped her hand free from her dress. Her fingers trembled.
She should have summoned Jacks before she’d stepped inside. Being unable to call him now felt like another chance to change her mind. But Tella’s decision was made. Once she took the cards and stepped out of the vault, there would be no turning back. She’d just have to be quick to grab the luckless coin.
But she was still taking a risk. Once she stepped outside of this temple, every Fate and person trapped inside the cards would either be released by Jacks once he took his full power back from Legend—or all the Fates along with Tella’s mother would be destroyed by Legend if Jacks did not arrive quickly enough.
The world was about change. Either all the Fates and Tella’s mother would go free, or Legend would destroy them and become the most powerful human in the world.
No wonder the stars had blinked earlier that night. Tella imagined them doing it again as she reached into the wooden box, boldly picked up her mother’s cursed Deck of Destiny, and officially won Caraval.
39
Tella’s heart raced as she exited the sanctuary. After everything that night it should have run out of beats, but it managed to pound faster as the cool evening air whipped around her face and rustled the silvery leaves of her dress. Ignoring the chill, her hand dove into her pocket once more for Jacks’s luckless coin.
“Tella—” A low, achingly familiar voice, called from the base of the steps, followed by the echo of Dante’s heavy footfalls.
She froze.
If you win Caraval, the first face you see will be Legend’s.
No. No. No.
Tella quickly shut her eyes before she could see him. Maybe if she didn’t open her eyes he’d walk away, she’d see another face, and Dante wouldn’t be Legend.
She heard him climb closer. Boots heavy and eager against the stairs.
“I thought you were meeting me after midnight,” she called.
“I had a feeling you’d be here early.” His voice was a little closer.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“Tella, look at me.” Another step. Then she felt the heady warmth that always seemed to surround him. It pressed against her shoulders and chest, as if he were standing right in front her. “I can’t talk to you like this.”
She kept her eyes firmly closed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d suspected Dante was Legend, but she wasn’t supposed to be right.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. “I want to talk to Legend.”
“Then open your eyes and speak to me.”
Her legs gave out.
His arms snaked around her, keeping her steady while the world she knew broke into pieces.
Dante was Legend.
Legend was Dante.
And he was still holding on to her. One hand left her waist, moving upward until his fingers gently brushed her cheek before resting beneath her chin and tilting her face toward his. She could feel his words against his lips as he spoke. “Tella, say something.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he was so close all she could feel were his lips touchi
ng hers. They were soft and parted and then they were pressing more firmly against her mouth.
She didn’t even want to try to resist him. But it was so much more than that.
They kissed as if the world were ending, lips crashing together as if the heavens were breaking and the ground was crumbling, as if a war raged all around them and this kiss was the only thing mighty enough to stop it. As long as they kissed, only she and Dante existed.
Tella never wanted to open her eyes; as soon as she did, the world would shift. Dante would be gone and there would only be Legend.
It was so brutally unfair. She’d only just decided how much she wanted Dante, but even if he made it through the night, Legend was someone she could never have. He was like a moment in time; he could be experienced but never held on to.
His lips pressed harder as one hand threaded through her hair and the other went lower around her hips, digging in and pulling her closer, as if he didn’t want the kiss to end, either.
But it had to stop. No matter how good of a distraction it was. The longer it lasted, the more danger she was in.
Tella leaned in toward him for one spectacular heartbeat, tasting his lips a final time. Then she forced herself to let go. She’d never be able to do what she needed if she fell any farther.
Her eyes opened reluctantly.
She wanted him to look different. She wanted his gaze to be cold and distant. She wanted him to look at her as if he’d really been the one to win this game. She wanted his lips to curve cruelly as he tried to steal the deck of cards from her grip. But he didn’t even look at them. He only stared at her. One hand was still on her waist. It was hotter than it should have been on such a cold night.
“You won the game,” he said. He lifted his other hand, as if reaching for her face.
She caught a glimpse of the black rose inked upon his skin. She might have laughed at how obvious that image had made his identity all along. But then his arm twisted and Tella caught a glimpse of the underside of his wrist, just beneath the scar he’d earned in the last Caraval.
Legendary--A Caraval Novel Page 28