Legendary--A Caraval Novel

by Stephanie Garber

She grabbed it. He winced, but he didn’t fight her as she pushed up the cuff of his sleeve.

  She gasped so sharply it hurt. “God’s blood.”

  On the underside of his wrist, marring one of his lovely tattoos, was a violent star-shaped brand, exactly like the one on Theron’s face.

  She told herself he had only done it for the cards, not for her. This was about the Fates’s power, she reminded herself. But it still felt wrong that he’d let himself be branded in such a permanent way.

  “What did you promise them?” Tella asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. I did it for you and I’d do it again.” Dante rotated his wrist until somehow he was holding her hand. He still hadn’t even looked at the cards. He dark eyes stayed fixed on her as if she were his prize.

  And, damn her, she believed him.

  It was so very wrong.

  If he was Legend, he wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to still gaze at her as if she’d just shattered his world with a kiss. He was supposed to laugh at her for being foolish enough to fall for him. He wasn’t supposed to lean in closer, as if he’d fallen for her, too. He was supposed to rip the cards from her hands and abandon her on the moonstone steps. He was supposed to break her heart.

  She wasn’t supposed to break his.

  Finally Tella’s heart stopped racing. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t take more away from him than she already had. Jacks would have to find another source of power to free her mother and the Fates.

  “You need to leave. Immediately.” Tella ripped her hand from his. “I used Jacks’s luckless coin right before you arrived. He’s on his way here now. When he arrives he’s going to steal your powers and free all the Fates.”

  Dante’s eyes finally dropped to the cards clutched in Tella’s hands. She still wasn’t entirely ready to think of him as Legend. Legends were supposed to be better than the truth. Perfect, idealized dreams and crystalline hopes that were too flawless to exist in reality. And she might have described him that way just then, if the naked expression that crossed his face didn’t cut deeper than disappointment. “You want to give the cards to Jacks?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tella said. She clasped the deck tighter, but Dante made no move to take it, though a muscle jumped in his jaw and his knuckles turned white as if everything in him fought against the urge.

  “This is about your mother, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “I thought I could let her go, but she’s my mother. I have so many questions for her, and despite everything she’s done, I can’t stop loving her.” Tella’s voice cracked. “I can’t allow you to destroy her along with the Fates.”

  His expression split, as if it had been ripped in half, a two-sided mask formed of regret and determination. “If I could free your mother, I would. But the only way to release someone from a card without breaking the curse is to take their place.”

  “I’m not asking you to free her,” Tella said. “I’m asking you to go before Jacks gets here.” She shoved against Dante’s chest, but he was indomitable. He wouldn’t move. Her panic increased and she shoved him again. But he wouldn’t fight back and he wouldn’t flee. He wasn’t afraid. He was something far worse. He was hopeful that she would choose him. He didn’t leave and he didn’t take the cards because he wanted her to give them to him.

  And maybe he imagined that if Jacks arrived he could beat him in a battle. Either way, Tella still lost her mother or she lost Dante.

  Unless she saved them both.

  The idea felt fragile at first, but like all thoughts it grew stronger the more consideration she gave to it. All this time, she kept thinking Jacks was the only one who could free her mother. But Tella could take her mother’s place. Caspar had mentioned how it was done during the play. All she needed to do was write her name on the card in blood. She still had the blood Dante and Julian had used to heal her pulsing through her veins; if her mortal blood wasn’t enough, that blood should do the trick.

  It hadn’t felt like an option before. Tella feared being trapped more than anything. But perhaps love was an otherworldly entity like Death. And since Tella had now opened herself up to the possibility of Love, it would not stop coming after her, and it felt far more powerful than Death.

  She’d underestimated Love in the past. She’d imagined the romantic sort to be a stronger type of lust—but this moment had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with caring more about saving Dante and her mother than saving herself. It made her fearless in a way she’d never been.

  Using her mother’s sharp opal ring, Tella pierced the tip of her finger hard enough to draw blood.

  “Tella, what are you doing?” Dante said.

  “You can take the cards, but promise me you’ll leave before Jacks arrives.” She pressed her bleeding finger against the card imprisoning her mother.

  “Tella,” Dante repeated. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m being the hero.”

  “No!” Dante roared the word the moment he realized what she meant. “Tella, don’t do this. Your mother wouldn’t want this.”

  He reached for her mother’s card, but it was too late. Tella’s name was written upon it in blood.

  “It’s already finished,” Tella said.

  She tried to smile then. She was finally the hero. All it had cost her was everything.

  Her lips wobbled, and hot tears fell from her eyes.

  “Tella.” Dante rasped her name as if he were on the verge of crying too. “I know you don’t want to believe me, but I never meant for this to happen to you. When I set up the game, I knew your mother had hidden the cards, but I didn’t know she was trapped inside one of them.” He pressed the pads of his thumbs to her cheeks. But the more tears he wiped away, the more began to fall. “I’m so sorry, I failed you.”

  She leaned into his hands. She had not thought Legend would be one to apologize, but it wasn’t his fault. This was her choice. She could have made another one if she’d wanted to. She didn’t know how long it would be until the spell took effect, but she imagined it would happen soon. And since her story wasn’t going to have a happy true ending, at least she could try for one last good moment during her almost-ending.

  “I lied to my sister about our kiss,” Tella said.

  Dante pressed his lips to her forehead. “I know.”

  “I’m not finished,” she scolded. “I wanted you to know why I lied. I wasn’t ashamed. I said it so my sister wouldn’t worry, because I think I knew even then that I could have—”

  The night. The world. The stars watching from above all disappeared.

  Then Tella disappeared as well.

  40

  Those who had been looking up at the sky, still searching for clues even though the game had just been won, might have noticed the appearance of more stars, stars that had not been seen in centuries. For it had been nearly that long since sacrifices of such magnitude had been made.

  Humans were selfish creatures. The stars had witnessed it again, and again, and again.

  But tonight, as the stars peered down on the world, they saw what seemed to be truly unselfish acts.

  First, from the young woman.

  Foolish young woman.

  She’d seemed promising. Now she was useless. Paper.

  But it was interesting to watch how her young man responded.

  The stars leaned closer. He was distracted, allowing them to move more freely than they had the past several nights. It was a delight to see him in pain. This boy, who never seemed to care about anyone but himself, shook with rage. Hopefully he didn’t do anything too foolish. He’d made a deal with them that they hungered for him to keep. It would do them no good if he were trapped in a card or dead.

  Not that they believed he would sacrifice himself for her. Humans were not that selfless. But, of course, he wasn’t fully human.

  He picked up the ring that had fallen from the girl’s hand when she’d been turned into a card. The ring’s stone burned red and violet, cur
sed once more, but still sharp enough to pierce skin. The boy sliced it across his palm. Blood spilled, as red as heartbreak and terror, and full of power.

  The stars watched with grim interest as he covered the deck of cards with the magic from his veins, more magic than a human should possess. Then he spoke the words, ancient, terrible words he should not have known, let alone been willing to utter.

  The blood covering the deck turned black, and the world changed once more.

  41

  Tella should not have possessed the ability to open her eyelids. A moment ago she’d been unable to breathe or move or feel anything other than trapped. She’d been inanimate, powerless.

  But now she could feel the midnight breeze playing with her curls and the warm hand against her back, holding her to an even warmer body—Legend’s body.

  He was Legend now, not Dante. Tella could feel it in the magic pulsing from his heated hands—hands with enough power to rip worlds in half. But they were gentle against her back, holding her up and keeping her recovering body from crumbling to the ground. She didn’t know how long she’d been trapped in the card, but the life-stealing effects still lingered. Her heartbeat was fine, but her legs were liquid, her arms were boneless. She could barely move.

  She concentrated on blinking, fluttering her eyelids up and down as her vision slowly returned and found focus. They were still on the Temple of the Stars’ moonstone steps. The evening was unchanged, as if no time had passed, though perhaps the sky was a little brighter than before. Glittering with additional stars. But Tella didn’t want to look at the stars. She wanted to see him.

  His expression was so harsh he looked as if he’d stolen a piece of dark from the night. She wanted to reach up and smooth the deep crease between his eyes, to ease the pain from his expression, but she didn’t have the strength to move.

  “What happened?” she breathed. “Why didn’t it work?”

  “It did.” His grip tightened, pressing her closer to his chest as he rubbed his hands up and down her back as if to make sure she was still corporeal. “I watched you vanish and reappear in your mother’s place in the card.”

  “But then how am I here? And where is my mother?” Tella’s gaze drifted around the glowing steps, at the immobile statues that she would have sworn were watching them both intently.

  “Don’t worry. She’s safe,” Legend said. His low voice was strained, pained, as if for each word he spoke, there was another word he couldn’t bring himself to utter. “I imagine your mother is in the same place she was right before she was turned into a card, otherwise she’d be here with us.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Tella said.

  The hands against her back stilled. “I know you were willing to sacrifice yourself for her, but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice you.”

  He removed one of his hands from around her and a beam of moonlight fell over his bronze palm, illuminating a jagged cut down the center. “I broke the curse on the cards.”

  “But—” Tella cut off, unsure which part of all of this to protest. She’d been willing to sacrifice everything, prepared to remain trapped in a card to save her mother and him, and to keep the Fates from going free and ruling over the Empire once more. But a very selfish part of her was so relieved. It seemed her story might someday have a happy true ending after all.

  Tella could have sunk into the steps and wept from relief and disbelief. Legend could have destroyed the cards and taken the power of all the Fates. He could have had everything he’d wanted. If he’d destroyed the Fates, his magic wouldn’t be limited to peaking during Caraval. He’d have the power of the Fates: the Aracle’s ability to see the future; Mistress Luck’s good fortune; the Assassin’s ability to travel through space and time; the Lady Prisoner’s wisdom. And he’d chosen to save Tella instead.

  “I can’t believe you did this for me.” She looked up from Legend’s wounded palm to his beautiful face. “I think that means you’re the hero after all.”

  His expression darkened at the word hero, as if it was something he’d rather not be called. But she didn’t care. He was her hero.

  Tella could still barely move her limbs, but she managed to wrap a hand around the back of Legend’s neck as the first of many fireworks burst into the sky. She heard them shimmer and pop as she leaned in closer and bought his full mouth down to hers. At first his lips didn’t move. Panic tore through her that something was wrong, that perhaps he regretted what he’d done. Her lips moved more tentatively, about to pull away, when he softly kissed the corner of her mouth.

  Maybe he’d been afraid of hurting her before.

  He was impossibly gentle as he kissed her again; hands barely stroking her waist as his lips slowly traveled along her jaw and then down her neck. So light it was almost painful. It was the delicate sound of music, the distant crash of ocean waves; there but still too far away. Tella wanted to erase the distance. It should have felt like the beginning of something, but somehow it felt like the end. As if every feather-light press of his lips was an unspoken good-bye.

  More fireworks exploded above, gold and violet and brighter than before.

  She tightened her grip around his neck, trying to hold on to him and this moment, but he was already pulling away as he lowered her toward the steps.

  “What’s wrong?” Tella asked.

  “I need to leave.” His gaze shuttered, his lips moved into a severe line, and then he let her go, completely. He set her weak body down, abandoning her atop the cold moonstone steps. “Good-bye, Tella.”

  Her stomach went hollow. If she’d been standing her legs might have crumbled.

  He was striding away. Leaving her.

  “Wait—where are you going?”

  He continued down the steps.

  For a moment she feared he wouldn’t turn back around. But it was almost worse that he did. His eyes, which earlier had been so heated, so full of emotion, didn’t glitter or shine or spark any longer. They were flat, black, and growing colder with every heartbeat like the fading fireworks above. “There’s somewhere else I need to be. And, no matter what this looks like, I’m still not the hero in your story.”

  Something cracked inside of Tella. It might have been her heart, breaking while he walked away—as if he hadn’t just freed the Fates and damned the entire world for her.

  42

  The steps beneath Tella were cold, but not nearly as icy as the heartless boy who’d left her there. She’d been left by boys before, but it had never hurt this much. She wanted to get up, to walk away with her head high, as if he mattered as little to her as she apparently mattered to him. But Tella’s limbs still felt like paper, weak and thin and pathetic.

  A dramatic sigh cut through the chorus of fireworks still crackling above. Then Jacks was sauntering up the stairs, shaking his head as he walked. He looked as if he’d dressed up and then gotten into a scuffle. His fitted jacket was covered in swirls of frayed gold embroidery. The cream shirt beneath it might have looked fine if the lace hadn’t been ripped from the cuffs and the collar. Two of the buttons near his neck were missing as well. “I told you it was a bad idea to put yourself in a card.”

  “How do you know that’s what happened?” Tella asked.

  “I’m a Fate. I know things.”

  She tried to shove herself into a more dignified position, but her limbs remained firmly planted against the cold stone. “Did you know this would happen all along?”

  “It was one possibility.” Jacks continued his lazy climb. If he was disappointed that he’d missed Legend, his voice gave no indication. His handsome face appeared unreadable. It looked perfectly indifferent, save for the tiny wrinkle in between his brows. “Pining doesn’t look good on you.”

  “I’m not pining. I’m angry,” Tella said. Jacks was the last person she wanted to pour her heart out to, but given that he was the only one there and that her heart was already cracked wide open, it was impossible to hold the words back. “Half the reason I put myself in that c
ard was so you wouldn’t take his powers or kill him. And then he just left me here on these steps.”

  “Did you honestly expect more from Legend?”

  Maybe she hadn’t expected more from Legend, but she’d wanted more from Dante. How could someone who’d given up everything he’d worked for just abandon her? And why had he bothered to kiss her back? He should have let her go the minute she’d pressed her lips to his.

  “You’re definitely pining.” Jacks’s mouth twisted in disgust.

  “Stop judging me. It only looks that way because I can’t move. If I could, I wouldn’t be lying here. I’d be with my mother.”

  “So you know where she is?” Jacks drawled.

  Tella scowled. “Don’t you have something better to do? Shouldn’t you be off celebrating with all the other Fates that Legend just freed?”

  “See how weak you are after being inside a card for a handful of minutes? The other Fates were trapped for centuries. They might be out of the cards, but, at the least, it will take weeks before any of them, or your mother, are strong enough to open their eyes. Once they do wake up, they still won’t be at their full powers because of Legend.”

  “So then why aren’t you off plotting how to get the rest of your magic back from him?”

  “Who says I’m not?” Jacks’s smile was all dimples, the sharp ones she’d seen the first time they’d met. She hated them now as much as she did then. Dimples were supposed to be charming and kind, but his always felt like a form of attack.

  Tella’s arms and legs still weren’t working, but she managed to glare in return. “Leave.”

  “Fine. But I’m taking you with me.” In one agile move Jacks scooped her up, lean arms far stronger than they looked.

  “What are you doing?” Tella screeched.

  “I’m taking you to your sister. Don’t waste your feeble energy fighting.”

  If only Tella could have fought him. But she didn’t have the strength and she was so tired of fighting. Her battle had died on those steps the moment Legend walked away. All she wanted now was for the night to end and for the sun to return, so that when she looked up at the sky she’d no longer see all the bleeding stars and think of Legend. Her one triumph was that her mother was free, but until Tella saw her in the flesh, it would still feel as if she was missing.