Legendary

by Stephanie Garber

  It seemed both expected her to win the game for them. But perhaps the only way Tella could really come out victorious was if she chose to no longer play in their games, if she left her mother where she was, and her cursed cards where they were, safe in the stars’ vault where neither Jacks nor Legend could touch them.

  Something like guilt prickled inside of Tella at the thought of allowing her mother to remain trapped in a card. But Paloma had treated Tella’s life as if it were a piece of collateral. Her mother was no better than Jacks or Legend, and Tella would be damned before she allowed any of them to use her like a pawn on a game board again.

  36

  Tella shot up in bed with a start. Heart pounding, pulse rushing—two more confirmations she wasn’t cursed any longer. It should have made her feel ready to conquer the world. Instead, she couldn’t shake the heavy sensation that the world was preparing to conquer her.

  Her first instinct was to check the Aracle to see if her future had changed, but she could no longer trust the card, and she was done letting the Fates dictate her choices.

  The shadows crawling over the floor and the sleep lines etched into her arms made it clear she’d been out for hours. Even though she no longer planned to finish the game, she hadn’t meant to sleep so long.

  It was nearly twilight. The light pouring through her window dyed everything inside her suite an eerie red, except for the pearly white letter sitting quietly at the edge of her bed, as if it had been waiting for her.

  Tella ripped it open, eyes a little blurry as she began to read. But after the first two lines, her vision sharpened and her mind finished waking up.

  * * *

  My dear Donatella,

  Thank you for the gift of your company the other night at my little dinner. It was an unexpected pleasure to meet you. I didn’t realize until after you left how much you reminded me of someone special I once knew. You don’t particularly look like her, but you have the same indomitable spirit and vibrancy as Paradise the Lost. It made me wonder if she was your missing mother.

  I probably shouldn’t say this given who she was, but Valenda dimmed the day Paradise disappeared. She was a treasure. If she was your mother and I can be of any help in your search to find her, do let me know.

  Until we meet again,

  Elantine

  * * *

  Tella felt wide awake when she finished reading. She might have read it more than once. By the time she looked up and out the window again, the sun had nearly set. Any minute Legend would form a new constellation in the sky, showing the city that Caraval was starting up again.

  Before reading Elantine’s letter, Tella had been content to give up on the game, to leave her disloyal mother and her cursed deck of cards exactly where they were. As long as Tella never opened the vault, the Fates would not go free, and Legend could not destroy her mother. It seemed like a reasonable compromise. But now, after this message from Elantine, that choice felt like giving up. It felt like settling for the almost-ending Armando had talked about.

  Tella knew it was foolish to imagine a better version of her mother than the one she’d seen inside the Temple of the Stars. And yet Elantine’s letter made Tella hope that there was more to her mother’s story, just as Dante had suggested.

  “Delivery,” called a wispy voice from the other side of her door.

  Tella hid Elantine’s note in her bed as an overeager servant popped inside the suite.

  The intruder carried a massive plum box topped with a purple bow the size of a melon. It must have been Tella’s Elantine’s Eve costume from Minerva’s.

  “I assume you’ll need help dressing for tonight.” The maid lifted the box’s lid. “Oh, this is the prettiest one I’ve seen! You’ll be sure to draw every eye.”

  A sheen of silver sparkles floated over the room as the maid pulled a smoky silver-blue gown from the box. The seamstress might have fought Tella about her choice to go as the Lost Heir, but she’d done a sublime job with the dress, even if it did remind Tella a little too much of Jacks’s eyes.

  It was backless, covered by only a gossamer cape the color of melted silver. After helping her put the gown on, the maid pinned the thin cape to the delicate beaded straps at Tella’s shoulders, which fed into a sheer smoky-blue bodice. It would have been indecent if not for the glittering silver-dipped leaves clinging to her chest and trailing over her torso, as if she’d been tossed in the winds by a magical storm. Her flowing skirt was a combination of midnight blue and liquid metal, shimmering in unearthly waves every time she moved, making it look as if she might disappear with one quick twirl.

  “It’s magnificent,” the girl said. “Are you ready for the—” Her sentence cut off as she lifted the candled crown with its grim black veil from the bottom of the box. “You’re going as Elantine’s Lost Heir? Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “I’m sure it’s none of your business.” Tella snatched the crown.

  “I was just trying to be helpful,” the girl apologized with a quick curtsy. “Forgive me again, but I’ve heard rumors about your fiancé, and after what happened earlier, I thought you might like a warning.”

  Tella tried to refrain from asking more. The last time she’d spoken with a cheeky maid it had not ended well, but this maid seemed genuinely nervous, and Tella might have recognized her voice from her first night in the palace. She sounded like the servant who’d reminded her of a bunny and felt sorry for Tella. “What happened earlier?” Tella asked.

  “You really haven’t heard? The whole palace is bubbling about it. They’re saying the real Lost Heir, Elantine’s missing child, has reappeared. Of course, no one has confirmed it.” The maid hushed her voice. “The empress fell ill right after the rumors started.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Tella asked.

  “I’m not privy to that sort of information,” said the maid. “But it sounds serious.”

  “It’s all probably part of Caraval,” Tella said. If the empress actually had a missing child, it seemed like a great coincidence that the child would just happen to appear during Caraval.

  But what if the empress was genuinely sick? The thought made Tella more uncomfortable than she would have expected. In her letter Elantine talked about Tella’s mother as if she’d known her. She’d called her a treasure. Tella wanted to know why, but she wouldn’t if anything happened to the empress.

  “Thank you for the assistance,” Tella said to the maid. “You’re free to leave.”

  Tella was dressed. All she needed to do was crown herself.

  Unfortunately the waxy circle of candles forming the Lost Heir’s crown was heavy and clunky, and the thick veil attached to it was impossible to see through.

  Before putting it on her head, Tella tugged at the veil’s fabric. Only the stubborn thing didn’t want to budge.

  She yanked it again.

  The veil ripped free, but so did the crown’s ring of black candles. They fell apart in thick, waxen tears, crumbling until all that remained were five razor-sharp points tipped in black opals.

  It looked like an unbroken version of the Shattered Crown. The same crown Tella had seen when Armando read her fortune.

  The Shattered Crown predicted an impossible choice between two equally difficult paths. Tella knew the circle in her hands wasn’t the same crown. That crown was trapped in a deck of cards, and this crown had yet to break. But she didn’t like that her fingers went numb wherever they touched it.

  She wanted to shove it into the box. It felt like a bad idea to put this crown on. But she refused to be afraid of it or the ideas it brought to mind.

  Tella looked in the mirror as she placed it atop her head. The crown wasn’t nearly as heavy as it had been when the candles had been a part of it, but from the moment it touched her curls, Tella felt a stirring, as if wearing the crown was the first step toward an impossible choice she wasn’t ready make.

  She tried to dismiss the feeling. Just because she was going to speak with the empress about her mo

ther didn’t mean Tella was going to sacrifice herself to the stars so that she could win the game to save Paloma. And yet Tella found herself tucking Jacks’s luckless coin into the pocket of her costume, along with the Aracle and the card imprisoning her mother.

  ELANTINE’S EVE:

  THE LAST NIGHT

  OF CARAVAL

  37

  The stars were spectacularly fiery that night, lighting all of Valenda with their splendor and shimmer. Legend had wrangled them into the shape of a giant hourglass. It glowed desert-gold and scorching red, dripping crimson stars like grains of sands, no doubt counting down until dawn and the end of Caraval.

  The hourglass hung suspended above the palace, where the last night of the game was taking place. Tella had glimpsed it when she’d looked out of her window. The glass courtyard below, which filled the space between the golden tower and the other wings of the palace, was beginning to fill with people costumed to look like the accursed Fates.

  Thankfully none of the game players were allowed inside the tower. The ancient structure was almost eerily quiet. Tella could only hear the patter of her footfalls against the rickety wooden stairs as she climbed up, up, up.

  During their dinner the other evening, Elantine had mentioned watching the Elantine’s Eve fireworks from the highest floor. She’d even told Jacks she hoped Tella would join them for the show. It wasn’t an actual invitation, and Jacks had never mentioned it again, but Tella hoped the empress had meant it.

  Guards stopped her at the top. There must have been a dozen of them, their armor clanging loud and harsh as they blocked Tella’s path.

  Her legs burned from climbing, but she managed to stand up straight and speak without gasping. “I’m engaged to the heir, and Her Majesty has invited me to watch the fireworks with her this evening.” Tella flashed her letter from Elantine, showing off the royal seal as if it were an invitation. But it wasn’t needed.

  The guards parted ranks for Tella as if they’d been expecting her. She wondered if it was because the empress’s invitation to watch the fireworks had been genuine, or if the empress had known that her letter would draw Tella here. She was done letting fate or the Fates dictate her future, but something about this meeting with Elantine felt inevitable.

  The top of the tower was much narrower than the bottom, just one room, not particularly large, and yet later she would remember it as endless. The walls and ceiling were formed of seamless glass, an observatory built for watching and dreaming and wishing. Legend’s churning hourglass was so close Tella swore she could hear the stars falling inside of it, hissing and sparking out a dangerous song as Tella ventured farther in.

  The suite itself was simple elegance. An ash-white tree grew in the middle, full of silver leaves that looked as if they were on the verge of falling. Surrounding it was a circle of tufted lounges, all looking out toward the pristine glass, silver and white, just like the tree. The only spot of bold color in the room came from the bouquet of red roses in the vase next to Elantine.

  The empress lounged on a seat so close to the windows it nearly touched the glass. She didn’t appear to be in costume, though there was something ghostly about her and it wasn’t merely the white gown she wore.

  Two nights ago when Tella had met her, Empress Elantine had been the definition of lively, brimming with smiles and hugs. But perhaps she’d given away too many. Now she slumped against her chair, waxen and sickly, exactly like the overeager maid had said.

  Even Elantine’s voice sounded feverish when she spoke. “You climbed all this way, my dear, you may as well ask the question burning your tongue.”

  “What happened to you?” Tella blurted.

  Elantine looked up. Her dark eyes were larger than Tella remembered, or perhaps her face had become thinner. Elantine looked as if she’d aged two decades in two days. Tella swore the woman grew even older as she sat there. Fresh wrinkles formed across her pallid cheeks as she said, “It’s called dying, my dear. Why do you think I wanted to have such a magnificent seventy-fifth birthday celebration?”

  “But—but you looked so well the other night.”

  “A tonic from Legend.” Elantine’s eyes cut to the red roses on the table beside her. “He’s been helping me hide my failing health from Jacks.”

  “So you’ve met Legend?”

  A wrinkled smile moved the empress’s mouth. “After all his help, even if I knew who Legend was, I would not betray his secret. And I don’t think you climbed up all this way to ask about him.”

  Elantine’s gaze dropped to the letter in Tella’s hand.

  Tella still wanted to question the empress more about Legend, who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once.

  But even though Elantine was dying, when she spoke again, her tone was sharp enough to cut out any arguments. “Paradise the Lost is your mother, isn’t she?”

  “I knew her as Paloma,” Tella confessed, “though my father always got upset when I called her that instead of Mother.”

  Elantine clucked her tongue. “Paradise had such unfortunate taste in men.”

  Tella would have agreed, but she didn’t feel like talking any more about her father.

  “How did you know her?” Tella asked as she took a seat. She still didn’t know all the proper etiquette as to how to treat an empress, but it felt odd to look down on the woman who ruled all of the Meridian Empire.

  Elantine took a deep breath, her body shaking more than it should have at the exertion. “The last time I saw Paradise, she was stealing the Deck of Destiny I mentioned the other night. I warned her the cards would only bring trouble, but I should have chosen a different word. Like misery or agony. Paradise merely said she loved trouble. But I believe what she really loved was life.”

  Elantine gazed out the window, where Legend’s crimson stars continued to shine on the game below. “Paradise could have been so much more than a picture in a Wanted poster shop. She was intelligent and clever, quick to laugh, and to love. Though she tried not to let people know how deeply her feelings went. ‘Criminals don’t love,’ she once told me. But I think Paradise was afraid of love because when she loved, she did it as fiercely as she lived.”

  Tella imagined this was all supposed to make her feel better, yet somehow it only hurt more to know her mother could love so intensely, and yet she didn’t even care about her own daughter.

  Tella should have walked away and stopped torturing herself. But there was something almost intimate about the empress’s knowledge. Her two sentences alone felt so much deeper than almost everything Aiko had shared. Tella had heard Elantine was wild in her youth, but she would not have been a youth at the same time as Tella’s mother.

  “How did you meet her?” Tella asked.

  The empress slowly turned back to Tella. “That’s a story you’ll have to ask Paradise.”

  “I don’t think that will be happening.” Tella slowly rose from her seat. “This is where my search for her ends.”

  “Pity,” Elantine said, “I didn’t think you were the sort who quit so easily.”

  “She gave up on me first.”

  “I’m not sure I can believe that.” Elantine’s voice went soft. Tella might have thought it was from fatigue, but there was nothing weak about it. “The Paradise I knew didn’t believe in quitting. And if you really are her daughter, then I’m certain she would not have quit on you. In fact, I imagine that if she was your mother, she loved you very deeply.”

  Tella snorted.

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Elantine said. “I’m sure there’s a law that says you cannot mock your empress to her face. But I imagine what you just did has more to do with your mother than with me. And, I’ll admit, I suspect my child feels the same way about me as you feel about your mother. I was also a failure as a parent. I made mistakes that meant I was parted from my child for a long time. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love my child. So many of the choices I made that I believed were for the best only served to tear us apart.”