Scarlett pursed her lips.
Tella had probably taken the lie a little too far. One look at Dante and any girl could tell he knew what to do with his lips.
“I don’t care that you kissed him,” Scarlett said. “If I’d met him before Julian, I might have ended up kissing him too.”
A highly disturbing image popped into Tella’s head, and she understood her sister’s unease even more acutely. The idea of Scarlett and Dante together made Tella want to threaten him to stay far away from her sister, not that Tella thought it was even a possibility. But if just the notion worried Tella—who was all for Scarlett enjoying herself—she could only imagine how troubled her overprotective sister felt.
“I don’t want to control you,” Scarlett continued. “We’ve both experienced enough of that. I just don’t want you hurt. Caraval begins tomorrow at midnight, but as I learned during the last game, Legend puts his game pieces in place far in advance.” Scarlett shot another uneasy look at the slippers Dante had returned.
“You don’t have to worry, Scar.” And for once Tella spoke the absolute truth. “I trust Dante even less than I trust most people, and I know better than to let myself get swept away by Caraval.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to play.”
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”
“Tella, I wish you wouldn’t.” Scarlett smoothed her now completely gray skirts, this time leaving sweaty streaks. “What happened with Nigel reminded me of the more regretful things I experienced. I don’t want that for you.”
“Then play with me.” Tella’s words flew out impulsively, but even after giving them a second thought, it felt like a brilliant idea. Tella had watched Caraval from behind the scenes, but her sister had actually played and won. As a team they would be unbeatable. “If we’re together, you can make sure I don’t get tricked by performers like Nigel again. And I can ensure you’ll have fun. We’ll take care of each other.”
Scarlett’s dress immediately perked up, as if it were all for the idea. Its drab gray lace turned raspberry red and spread from her sleeves to her bodice, like attractive armor. Unfortunately, Scarlett still appeared wary. She’d gone from endlessly smoothing her skirts to anxiously wrapping her piece of silver hair around her finger, a streak she’d earned after losing a day of her life in the last Caraval.
Tella considered telling Scarlett the real reason she needed to play and win, but she doubted mentioning their mother would help her cause. Scarlett didn’t talk about their mother. Ever. Whenever Tella had tried to talk about Paloma, Scarlett either changed the subject or ignored her completely. Tella used to think it was too difficult for Scarlett, but now Tella thought Scarlett’s hurt had turned to hatred for the way their mother had left them.
Tella understood the feeling; she preferred never to talk about their father, and she avoided thinking of him as well.
But their mother wasn’t monstrous like their father.
“Crimson”—several knocks rattled the door to their small cabin—“are you in there?”
Scarlett’s expression immediately changed at the sound of Julian’s voice; worry lines softened to smile lines.
“We’ve reached Valenda,” Julian added. “I came to see if I could carry you and your sister’s trunks to the deck.”
“If he wants to haul my luggage, please let him in,” Tella said.
Scarlett didn’t need to be told twice.
The moment she opened the door Julian grinned like a pirate who’d just found his treasure. Tella swore his eyes genuinely smoldered as he looked her sister over.
Scarlett beamed back. So did the lace on her dress, deepening into a fiery shade of red as her skirt went from full to fitted.
Tella slurped her chocolate, loudly, interrupting the couple before their longing looks could shift into lustful kisses. “Julian, please help me out,” Tella said. “I’m trying to get Scarlett to partner with me during Caraval.”
Julian sobered instantly. His gaze flickered to Tella, suddenly sharp. It was as brief as a flash of lightning, but unmistakably clear. He did not want Scarlett to play the game. And Tella knew exactly why. She should have thought of it herself.
If Scarlett played, she’d learn the truth about Armando—that he’d performed the role of her fiancé in the last Caraval—and both Julian and Tella’s lies would be exposed. It would be far worse for Julian than it would be for Tella, but it would be the most painful of all for Scarlett.
“On second thought,” Tella said lightly, attempting to correct her mistake, “maybe I should play alone. You’ll probably slow me down.”
“Too bad. I want to play now.” Scarlett’s large hazel eyes returned to Julian, glittering in a way they never had back on Trisda. “I just remembered how fun the game could be.”
Tella smiled in agreement, but it felt so forced it was hard to hold on to.
Nigel had warned her that if she won the game it would come at a cost she’d later regret. Scarlett had tried to warn her about the game as well. But until this moment Tella hadn’t felt the force of either warning. It was one thing to be told about the risks of Caraval, but it was another to see them playing out. Even though the last game was over, her sister hadn’t fully escaped.
Tella didn’t want to end up like that, and she didn’t want to drag Scarlett through anything that might bring her more pain. But if Tella didn’t play and win the game, she might never see her mother again.
THE MERIDIAN
EMPIRE’S
CAPITAL CITY,
VALENDA
7
According to the myths, Valenda had once been the ancient city of Alcara, home of the Fates pictured inside every Deck of Destiny. They’d built the city with their magic. Magic so ancient and undiluted, even centuries after the Fates had vanished, remnants of their glowing enchantments remained, turning the hills of Valenda so bright that at night it could illuminate half the Meridian Empire.
Tella didn’t know if this entire myth was true, but she believed it as she took her first glimpse of Valenda’s twilight port.
A violet sunset cast everything in deep purple shadows and yet the world before her still glittered, from the tips of its primeval ruins, formed of crumbling columns and massive archways, to the concord waters lapping La Esmeralda. The rickety piers on her home isle of Trisda looked like brittle bones compared to the thick, living wharfs that stretched before her now, flanked with clippers and schooners waving billowing mermaid-green flags. Some were captained by women sailors, boldly dressed in slick leather skirts and boots that went up to their thighs.
Tella already loved it here.
Her imagination stretched as she craned her neck to look up.
She’d heard there were sky carriages that flew above the hilly city like birds, but it was different to view them in person. They moved through the darkening lavender sky with the grace of painted clouds, bobbing up and down in pops of orchid, topaz, magenta, lilac, corn silk, mint, and other shades Tella had yet to see. They didn’t actually fly so much as dangle from thick cords that crisscrossed Valenda’s various districts.
“Come on,” Scarlett urged, clutching Julian’s hand as they started down the crowded dock. “A special group of sky coaches will take us directly to the palace. We don’t want to miss them.”
Their ship had arrived late, so everyone was moving at a heightened pace. There were lots of Careful theres and Watch yourselfs. Tella’s short legs hurried to keep up as she clutched the tiny trunk in her hands, which held the Aracle along with most of her fortune.
“Pardon me.” A wisp of a boy dressed like a courier appeared at the end of the pier. “Are you Miss Donatella Dragna?”
“Yes,” Tella answered.
The courier beckoned her toward a group of barrels at the edge of another dock.
Tella wasn’t about to follow. She never fully believed her nana’s stories about how dangerous the streets of Valenda could be for a girl. But she did know how easily a person could disappear on a do
“I need to catch up to my sister,” Tella said.
“Please, miss, don’t run off. I won’t get paid if you leave.” The young courier showed her an envelope sealed with a circle of golden wax that formed an intricate combination of daggers and shattered swords. Tella recognized it instantly. Her friend.
How did he already know she was in Valenda?
As if answering her question, the luckless coin in Tella’s pocket pulsed like a heartbeat. He must have been using it to track her, further proof he was skilled at finding people.
Tella called toward Scarlett and Julian, telling them that she’d catch up later, and slipped onto the other dock with the courier.
Once hidden behind a cluster of heavy barrels, the messenger quickly passed Tella the communiqué and then darted away before Tella could break the seal.
Inside the envelope were two squares. First was a simple sheet covered in familiar writing.
* * *
Welcome to Valenda, Donatella—
My apologies for failing to greet you in person, but don’t worry, I won’t remain a stranger. I’m sure you’re as eager to find your mother as I am to learn Legend’s name.
Knowing you, I imagine you’ll be participating in Caraval, but just in case, I’ve included an invitation to the first night’s festivities.
Bring the coin I gave you to the ball before midnight. Keep it in your palm, and I’ll be sure to find you. Don’t be late—I will not linger.
Until then,
—A friend
* * *
Tella pulled out the other card, revealing a pearlescent page covered in ornate royal-blue ink.
Legend has chosen you to play a game
that may change your destiny.
In honor of Empress Elantine’s 75th birthday,
Caraval will visit the streets of Valenda
for six magical nights.
Your journey will begin at the Fated Ball
inside Idyllwild Castle.
The game officially begins at midnight,
on the 30th day of the Growing Season,
and ends at dawn on Elantine’s Day.
The thirtieth was the following day.
Far too soon for Tella to meet her friend.
Nigel had said the only way for her to uncover Legend’s name was to win Caraval. She needed another week to play—and win—the game. Surely her friend would give her one more week.
But what if he said no and refused to reunite her with her mother?
An unruly wave rocked the dock, but even after it stabilized Tella remained unsteady, as if fate had blinked and the future of her world had reshaped.
Quickly, she set the small trunk in her hands down on the dock. Behind the barrels, she was concealed from view. No one saw her open the trunk, though even if an entire boatload of people had been watching, it might not have stopped her. Tella needed to check the Aracle.
Her fingers usually tingled upon contact, but when she touched the paper rectangle they went numb; everything went numb as Tella saw a new image. Her mother was no longer trapped behind prison bars—she was blue-lipped, pale, and dead.
Tella gripped the card so tight it should have crumpled in her hand. But the magical little thing seemed to be indestructible. She sagged against the damp barrels.
Something new must have happened to alter her mother’s future. Tella had slept the past four days. The shift shouldn’t have been a result of her actions, unless it had something to do with the conversation she’d had with Nigel.
Julian had warned Tella that fortune-tellers like Nigel toyed with the future. Maybe he had sensed something in Tella’s destiny that put Legend at risk. Or perhaps Legend wanted to toy with Tella for trying to uncover his most closely guarded secret, and whatever Legend now planned had shifted her mother’s fate.
The thought should have frightened her. Legend was not a good person to have as an enemy. But for some twisted reason the idea only made Tella want to play his game more. Now, she just needed to convince her friend to give her another week so she could win Caraval, uncover Legend’s name, and save her mother’s life.
* * *
By the time Tella reached the carriage house, night had covered the city with its cloak. Outside the evening was chilled, but inside the carriage house the air was balmy, hazy with amber lantern light.
Tella walked past stall after stall of colorful coaches, all attached to thick cords that led to every part of the city. The line dedicated to the palace was at the very end. But Scarlett was nowhere in sight. She’d told her sister that she’d catch up later, yet Tella was still surprised Scarlett hadn’t waited for her.
The carriage hanging before Tella bobbed as a burly coachman opened an ivory door and directed her into a snug compartment covered in buttery cushions laced with thick royal-blue trim that matched the curtains lining the oval windows.
The only other passenger was a golden-haired young man Tella didn’t recognize.
Legend’s performers had taken two ships to Valenda, and Tella imagined there were performers working for Legend whom she’d never met. But she suspected this young man was not one of them. He was only a few years older than her, yet he looked as if he’d spent centuries practicing disinterest. Even his rumpled velvet tailcoat appeared bored as he lounged against the plush leather seats.
Intentionally looking away from Tella, he bit into an intensely white apple. “You can’t ride in here.”
“Pardon me?”
“You heard me clearly. You need to get out.” His drawl was as lazy as his cavalier posture, making Tella think that either he was completely careless, or this young man was so used to people hanging on his words, he didn’t even try to sound commanding.
Spoiled nobleman.
Tella had never met an aristocrat she liked. They’d often come to her father for illegal favors, offering him money, but never respect; they all seemed to think their trickle of royal blood made them superior to everyone else.
“If you don’t wish to ride with me, you can get out,” she said.
The young noble responded with a mild tilt of his golden head, followed by a slow curl of narrow lips as if he’d bitten into a mealy part of his apple.
Just leave the coach, warned a voice in her head. He’s more dangerous than he looks. But Tella wasn’t about to be bullied by a young man too lazy to brush the hair from his bloodshot eyes. She hated it when people used their wealth or title as an excuse to treat others poorly; it reminded her too much of her father. And the carriage was already ascending, flying higher into the night sky with every one of Tella’s rapid heartbeats.
“You must be one of Legend’s performers.” The young man might have laughed, but it sounded too cruel for Tella to be sure. He leaned across the intimate space, filling the carriage with the sharp scent of apples and irritation. “I wonder if you could help me with something I’ve been curious about,” he continued. “I’ve heard Legend’s performers never truly die. So maybe I’ll push you out to see if the rumors are true?”
Tella didn’t know if the young man’s threat was serious, but it was too tempting to hold back from saying, “Not if I shove you out first.”
This earned her a flash of dimples that might have been charming, yet somehow they managed to look unkind, like a winking gemstone in the hilt of a double-edged sword. Tella couldn’t decide if his features were too sharp to be attractive, or if he was just the sort of handsome that hurt to look at, the devastating type of lovely that would slit your throat while you were busy staring into its cold quicksilver eyes.
“Careful, pet. You might be one of the empress’s guests, but many in her court are not as forgiving as I am. And I’m not forgiving at all.”
Crunch. Sharp teeth took another bite of his white apple before he let it slip from his fingers and drop onto her slippers.
Tella kicked the apple back in his direction, and pretended she wasn’t concerned in the least that he’d act on his threat. She even went so far as to turn her head away from him and toward the window while their carriage continued to skate above the city. It must have worked; from the corner of her gaze she saw the young man close his eyes as they passed over Valenda’s renowned districts.
Some districts were more infamous than others, like the Spice Quarter, where rumors claimed deliciously illicit items could be found, or the Temple District, where various religions were practiced—supposedly there was even a Church of Legend.
It was too dark to distinctly see anything, but Tella continued to look until the carriage began its descent toward the palace and she could finally make out more than dim starry-eyed lights sparkling up at the sky.
All she could think was, The storybooks lied.
Tella had never cared much for castles or palaces. Scarlett was the sister who’d fantasized about being whisked away by a rich nobleman or a young king to a secluded stone fortress. To Scarlett, castles were bastions of safety offering protection. Tella saw them as fancy prisons, perfect for watching, controlling, and punishing. They were larger versions of her father’s suffocating estate on Trisda, no better than a cage.
But as her coach continued its slow, downward drop, Tella wondered if she’d been too hasty with her judgments.
She’d always pictured castles to be things of gray stone and mold and musty corridors, but Elantine’s bejeweled palace set fire to the night like treasure snatched from a dragon’s lair.
She thought she heard the young nobleman snort, probably at some dazzled expression she’d made. But Tella didn’t care. In fact, she pitied him if he couldn’t appreciate the beauty.
Elantine’s palace sat atop Valenda’s highest hill. In the center of it, her famed golden tower burned beacon-bright in shades of copper and blazing coral. Regal and straight, until near the top where the structure arched like a crown, it was a mirror image of Tower Lost from Decks of Destiny. Tella held her breath. It was the tallest building she’d ever seen, and somehow it looked alive. It ruled like an ageless monarch, presiding over five arching jeweled wings, which stretched out from the tower like the points of a star. And Tella would get to live inside of this star for a week.
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