“Hello, Crimson.”
Her dress reacted immediately. Scarlett willed it not to shift and betray any of her feelings, but the gown had always liked Julian. The first time she’d put on the dress, back on Legend’s isle, she’d been embarrassed to undress in front of Julian, and a little disappointed because the dress had looked like a dreary rag. Then she’d put it on, and when she turned and looked at Julian, the gown had transformed into a confection of lace and seductive colors, as if it had somehow known that this was the boy whose heart she needed to win.
Scarlett couldn’t see her reflection now, but she could feel the gown shifting. Warm air brushed her décolletage as the dress’s neckline lowered. The skirt tightened to hug the curve of her hips, and the fabric’s color deepened to the ravenous pink of lips longing to be kissed.
Julian’s grin turned wolfish, reminding her of the night he’d first whisked her off her home isle of Trisda. But despite the hungry look in his eyes, he made no move to close the space between them. His elbow rested against a cracked display case as a fresh ray of sunlight streamed through the window, gilding all his edges in gold and making him look even more untouchable.
Scarlett wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him, but she didn’t move from the doorway. “When did you return?” she asked coolly.
“A week ago.”
And you’re only visiting now? Scarlett wanted to ask. But she reminded herself that she was the one who’d first put a wedge between them when she’d told him she wanted to meet her former fiancé.
Julian had said he understood, had said he wanted her to do whatever she needed. But then he’d been sent away on another errand from Legend.
I won’t be able to write, but it will only take one week, he’d promised.
One week had turned into two, then three, then four, then five weeks without so much as a note from him to say he was still alive. She wasn’t sure if it was because he’d given up on her or if he’d forgotten about her because he was so busy working for Legend.
Julian pulled at the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable, bringing Scarlett’s attention back to the bandage wrapped around his arm.
“Were you wounded?” Was that why he hadn’t come by? “What happened to your arm?”
“It’s nothing,” he mumbled.
But Scarlett would have sworn he blushed. She didn’t even know Julian was capable of blushing. He had no shame. He moved through the world with utter confidence. But his cheeks were definitely flushed, and his eyes refused to meet hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner.”
“It’s all right,” Scarlett said. “I’m sure you’re very busy with whatever Legend has you doing.” Her gaze flickered once more to the mysterious bandage around his arm and then up to his eyes, which still declined to meet hers. “It’s nice of you to stop by. It’s good to see you.” She itched to say so much more, but she could hear the carriage horses neighing outside. Scarlett needed to leave before she mucked things up with Nicolas. “I’d love to chat, but unfortunately I was about to step out.”
Julian shoved away from the display cabinet. “If you’re going to enjoy the festival, I’ll join you.” It was the polite statement of a friend. But Scarlett’s feelings for Julian had always been too strong for friendship, even when she’d first met him and hadn’t liked him at all. Scarlett and Julian could never just be friends. She needed more from him, or she needed him to let her go.
“I’m not going to the festival,” Scarlett said. “I’m finally going to meet Nicolas.”
Julian’s expression fell. It only lasted a moment. If Scarlett had torn her eyes from him for a second, she would have missed it. Almost as soon as he heard what she said, Julian walked past her to the boardinghouse front door. She expected him to leave, to let her go and close the door on them completely.
Instead he opened it with an oddly pleasant smile. “That’s perfect,” he said, cheerful, as if she’d just told him they were having coconut cake for dinner. “I can be your chaperone.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
“Do you already have one?”
Scarlett glared. “You and I never had one.”
“Exactly.” With a smug grin, he swaggered past her to the idling carriage and opened that door as well. But rather than wait for her to enter, Julian slipped into the coach.
Scarlett’s emotions were searing as she entered the coach and took the seat across from him. Julian might have started dressing like a gentleman, but he was still behaving like a scoundrel. She’d have understood his frustrating behavior if he’d made any effort to contact her over the past five weeks, or if he’d tried to fight for her after she’d told him that she wanted to give Nicolas another chance as well, but it seemed all Julian wanted to do was fight against her.
“You’re trying to sabotage this,” she accused.
“I’d say I’d never do that, but that would be a lie.” Julian lounged back in his seat, spreading out the way young men always seemed to. Since the streets of Valenda weren’t made for coaches, this box was particularly narrow, with barely enough room for the two of them. But Julian stretched his arms across the brocade cushions, and kicked out his legs to take up more than half the space.
Scarlett grabbed one of his knees, knocked it into the other, and pointed toward the door as the carriage began to rumble down the road. “Get out, Julian.”
“No.” His arms dropped from the cushion and he leaned forward. “I’m not leaving, Crimson. We’ve spent enough time apart.” He placed his hand on top of hers and pressed it firmly to his knee.
Scarlett tried to pull away, but it was in the halfhearted way someone did something when they were actually hoping someone would stop them.
And Julian did. He slipped his brown fingers between hers and held on tighter than he ever had, as if making up for all the weeks he hadn’t been able to touch her. “While I was gone, I tried to remember every word you ever said to me. I’ve thought about you every hour of every day I was away.”
Scarlett fought the urge to smile. It was everything she had wanted to hear. But Julian had always excelled at knowing what to say. It was following through where he fell apart. “Then why didn’t you write?”
“You told me you wanted space to meet your count.”
“I didn’t want that much space. For five weeks I heard nothing from you. I thought that you’d forgotten about me or moved on.” She tried not to sound too accusing or too desperate. She felt as if she’d failed at both, and yet Julian’s earnest expression didn’t waver. His eyes were the prettiest shade of brown, and warmer than the light slipping through the carriage windows.
“I won’t ever move on, Crimson.” He took her hand and brought it to his heart.
Scarlett’s heart beat wild and uneven in response, but Julian’s remained steady and unwavering beneath her palm.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I gave you space, because I thought that’s what you needed. But I realized as soon as I saw you today that I was wrong. So I’m in this carriage with you now, ready to go wherever you’re going, even if it means watching you with another man.”
Scarlett crashed back to reality. For a moment she’d forgotten about Nicolas.
“What if I don’t want you to watch me with another man?” she said.
“I’m not thrilled about the idea, either.” Julian’s tone turned teasing, but his fingers tensed as the carriage rattled over a bumpy road. They were nearing the edge of the city, and drawing closer to Nicolas’s estate.
“If you really want me to leave, I’ll get out of this coach and walk back to the palace,” Julian said. “But you should know that I’m also here because I don’t trust this count.”
“Do you trust me?” Scarlett said.
“With my life. But I’ve met your father and I have a difficult time putting faith in anyone who would make a deal with him.”
“Nicolas isn’t like that.”
When Scarlett had first written Nicolas a
fter learning she’d not truly met him during Caraval, he had been away from the continent mourning her. Her father had lied and said Scarlett and her sister had both died in an accident. He had no idea what a horrible man Marcello Dragna was.
And Nicolas was nothing like her father. He was drawings of plants, and anecdotes about his dog, Timber. He was a rule-follower like her; he believed in tradition so much he’d waited until today to meet her. Nicolas was safe. Scarlett couldn’t see him breaking her heart. Julian had already broken her heart twice, and even if Julian didn’t intentionally do it again, her heart would break for him eventually.
When Scarlett had first written Nicolas she’d only wanted to meet him, to cure her curiosity. Then Julian had left for so long, and Nicolas’s letters had been there when Julian hadn’t. Steady when Julian had been unreliable.
As a part of Caraval, Julian was ageless. He could die and stay dead if someone killed him when a game wasn’t in play, but he would never grow old as long as he was one of Legend’s performers. Scarlett could never ask him to give that up.
She didn’t know if Legend would still hold the games now that he was to become emperor. But given how Julian had just disappeared for weeks, it was clear Legend still controlled him. Any future Scarlett and Julian might have together was destined not to last. And yet even knowing all of this, she couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand away from his.
“I don’t want you to walk back to the palace,” she said. “But if you ruin this, I swear on the stars, I will never speak to you again. The count has to believe you’re a chaperone. We can tell him that you’re my cousin.”
“That’s not going to work unless you’re fine with him believing you have an inappropriate relationship with your cousin.” Julian darted closer and pressed a quick kiss to her neck.
Scarlett felt her cheeks go red. “Don’t you dare do anything like that!”
He lounged back, laughing hard enough to shake the carriage. “I was only kidding, Crimson, although now I’m tempted to follow through.”
8
Scarlett
Sweat beaded between Scarlett’s toes as a servant led her down a hall covered in detailed wainscoting and thick crown molding.
There might have been some cracks in the molding, which gave her a hint of pause. Nicolas had never said it, but at one point, she’d imagined that he’d only wanted to marry her because of her father’s wealth. But she wasn’t connected to her father anymore. If Nicolas ever chose to propose, it would be because of her.
Now the palms of her hands were sweating even more than her toes. She wanted to wipe the damp on her gown, but it would be worse to have obvious streaks marring the deep pink fabric.
Scarlett took several shallow breaths, trying to calm herself as the servant opened the door to a sprawling garden covered in glass. “His Lordship will meet you in here.”
Sprightly hummingbirds zipped from plant to plant, mirroring the state of Scarlett’s chaotic stomach as she stepped through the doorway. Everything smelled of pollen and flowers and budding romance.
Nicolas had recently drawn her a bouquet of hybrid flowers and told her that he enjoyed experimenting in the garden. She’d thought he’d written it to sound impressive, but clearly someone played with the plants in here. There were clusters of white Valendan faisies with velvet-blue vines, silver spider lilies that shined under the light, and yellow stems of sunflowers with jade-green petals.
Not too far from the door rested a copper table set with a bouquet of bright pink peonies, a pitcher of minted lemonade, sandwiches of seeded bread, and tiny tarts covered in white plums. Enough to be thoughtful without going over the top.
Julian eyed the little feast suspiciously, as if the lemonade was poisonous and the sandwiches hid razor blades. “It’s not too late to leave.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.” Scarlett perched on the edge of a large copper chair. “But you’re free to go whenever you wish.”
“Don’t tell me you really like it here.” Julian’s eyes lifted toward a slice of the glass ceiling covered in ladybugs. “There’s something off. Even the insects want to escape.”
“Ahem.” Someone cleared his throat. “His Lordship, Count Nicolas d’Arcy.”
Scarlett’s breath caught.
Clipped boot steps, heavier than she would have expected, followed the servant’s voice.
She thought she’d imagined her former fiancé as every possible sort of man. She’d pictured him short, tall, slender, wide, old, young, bald, hairy, handsome, plain, pale, dark, brooding, cheerful. She’d pictured him dressed in frilly frockcoats and dour suits as she tried to imagine the first thing he’d say upon meeting her.
She’d imagined what she’d say to him as well. But her words tangled together as he stepped forward and took her hand in his.
Nicolas was a mountain. The large hand holding Scarlett’s could have just as easily crushed it as cradled it. He was almost a full foot taller than her—all muscled legs, burly arms, and brown hair so thick that even though it appeared he’d tried to tame it, a wide lock fell over his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance, which was added to by his slightly crooked spectacles.
He looked the way she would have imagined a vigilante who had a secret identity as a gentleman botanist.
Beside him trailed a great black dog the size of a small pony. Timber. Scarlett had heard a lot about him in Nicolas’s letters. His tail wagged and his ears went back at the sight of Scarlett, obviously excited. But the dog didn’t leave his master’s side; he sat obediently as Nicolas brought her hand to his full mouth.
Her dress clearly liked him. Her low neckline was now rimmed with roughly cut gems that sent sparks of light all over the glassed-in garden.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Scarlett managed.
He smiled, wide and sincere. “I’m tempted to say you’re even prettier than I imagined, but I would hate you to think me unoriginal.”
“Too late,” Julian coughed.
A wrinkle formed between Nicolas’s thick brows as he noticed Scarlett’s companion. “And you are?”
“Julian.” He offered his hand.
But Nicolas refused to let go of Scarlett’s. “I wasn’t aware Scarlett had a brother.”
“I’m not her brother.” Julian kept his tone friendly, but Scarlett felt a surge of bruising purple panic as devilry sparked in Julian’s eyes. “I’m not related to her at all. I’m an actor she played with during Caraval.”
He emphasized the words played with, and Scarlett could have choked him. Julian would choose now to finally be honest.
Not that Nicolas appeared disturbed. The young count’s broad smile remained even as he pet Timber with his free hand.
But Julian wasn’t finished.
“I’m not surprised she’s never mentioned me. At the start of Caraval I don’t think she liked me much. But then we were given the same bedroom—”
“Julian, enough,” Scarlett cut in.
Nicolas’s smile finally fell. He released her fingers, as if taking them had been a mistake.
“It’s not the way it sounds. Julian and I are only friends,” she said, deciding not to even touch the word bedroom. “He met my father during Caraval and he was nervous you might be like him. He wanted to come today because he’s protective of me. But allowing that was evidently a mistake.” She shot a narrow look in Julian’s direction.
He appeared unapologetic, shrugging as he sank his hands into his pockets.
“Nicolas, please—”
“It’s all right, Scarlett.” The count’s voice rumbled deeper than before, but the angry lines around his mouth were gone. “I won’t say I’m pleased about this. But after learning the truth about your father and hearing about the fiancé you met during Caraval, I can understand.”
Nicolas turned back to Julian, and Scarlett stared as the young men finally shook hands. “Thank you for watching out for her during the game.”
“I’ll always wat
ch out for her,” Julian said.
“What about when you’re not needed?” Nicolas asked.
Julian threw his shoulders back and stood taller. “I’ll let Scarlett make that choice.”
“Julian, stop,” Scarlett said.
“It’s all right.” Nicolas scratched his dog behind the ears. “I don’t mind a bit of competition. In fact, I’d prefer to know who else is trying to win your hand.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Julian said. “Winning implies this is a game.”
“It’s a figure of speech,” said Nicolas.
“I know.” Julian smirked. “Games are what I do. But I don’t think you were using it figuratively. You want to win her by proving you’re the best.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” Nicolas asked. And Scarlett would have sworn he puffed his chest.
They were like battling peacocks. Scarlett pictured their emotions swirling in proud shades of teal and cobalt blue. Or maybe she was actually seeing their feelings?
Scarlett always saw her own emotions in colors, but she’d only seen the feelings of someone else once. It had happened during Caraval, after she’d shared blood with Julian. It was the most intimate thing she’d ever done, and afterward, she’d been able to glimpse Julian’s feelings. But it hadn’t lasted long, and neither did this glimpse of pride, making her wonder if it was only in her mind, since she hadn’t drunk anyone’s blood.
Finale Page 4