Finale

by Stephanie Garber

  “I’m tempted to tell you not to.” The game was something Scarlett never would have done before Caraval, and Tella was impressed she’d suggested it. “It sounds like a brilliant idea, but you know I’ve never been a fan of Nicolas.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Nicolas. He’s just—”

  “Not Julian.”

  Scarlett’s answering grin told Tella everything she needed to know. Julian might not have been perfect, but he was perfect for her sister.

  “Now it’s your turn.” Scarlett eyed the shiny black box beside Tella.

  “It’s a gift from Legend. He wants me to meet him at the Midnight Maze tonight.” Tella pulled out the note Legend had sent her and handed it to Scarlett. “I think this might be his way to apologize to me for tricking me in a dream without really apologizing.”

  “Hmm.” Scarlett’s brow furrowed and her dress turned a suspicious shade of mauve as she read. “I actually think he might be planning on giving you more than an apology tonight.” She looked up at Tella with solemn hazel eyes. “Did you know the Midnight Maze isn’t just the start of the weeklong countdown to a new ruler’s coronation? It’s an ancient Valendan tradition with very romantic roots. The first Midnight Maze was built by a prince for the princess he wanted to marry. The stories say that the prince told his princess there would be a prize in the center of the maze. Then he snuck there and waited for her, preparing to propose when she found him.”

  “So you think Legend plans to propose?” Tella said it like a joke. Legend hadn’t even given her an apology for leaving her that night in front of the Temple of the Stars. There was no way he could be planning on giving her a proposal.

  But Scarlett looked utterly serious. “I don’t think it’s entirely far-fetched. Although, in the story the proposal never happened. After the princess entered the maze, she was never seen again. It’s said whenever there’s a Midnight Maze, the ghost of the prince appears and searches for his lost princess.”

  “That sounds like more of a tragedy than a romance,” Tella said.

  “But it also sounds like Legend. I think he likes stories on the dark-and-tragic side.” Scarlett pinned Tella with a stare that looked a little like a warning, before her eyes went back to the long black box beside Tella, as if its contents might confirm her suspicions.

  “It’s probably just a dress, since he knows we lost most everything when our apartment was destroyed.” Tella lifted the lid. But to say what she found inside was just a dress would have been like saying Caraval was only a game, when it was so much more.

  A sweet, bewitching fragrance filled the room. It made her think of every dream that she’d spent with Legend as she reached inside the box and pulled out a gown that could have made any girl fall in love.

  The garment he’d sent had straps made of flower petals, a bodice made of ribbons lined in gems as small as glitter, and a full skirt formed of hundreds of silk butterflies, all in different shades of blue that together formed a magical hue she’d never seen. Some had sheer blue wings that were almost as pale as tears, others were soft sky blue, a few had hints of violet, while some had periwinkle veins. The butterflies weren’t alive, but they were so delicate and ethereal, at a glance they looked real. Exactly like the gown of her dreams, the dress she’d worn four nights ago when they’d been inside a dream version of the Church of Legend. She’d thought he hadn’t even noticed what she’d worn. But clearly, he had.

  It was tempting to shove the dress in the box and not show up at the party at all. The Fates were still out there; she needed to go to the Vanished Market. She needed to find the Fallen Star’s weakness. It was selfish to attend a party right now.

  But the real truth was, she was less afraid of battling monsters than she was of giving Legend her heart once again.

  Before Legend, Tella had wanted nothing to do with love. She’d believed she was destined to only experience unrequited love. Then she’d fallen in love with him, and it had been like drinking magic—indescribable, all-consuming, and fantastically addictive. Tella didn’t even want to get married, but if there was one person who could tempt her, it was Legend.

  “Are you going to go?” Scarlett asked.

  “Of course I’m going to go,” Tella said. She just didn’t know what she would do if Legend actually proposed. No one knew how to make her dream or wonder or feel as much as Legend. But no one knew how to break her like Legend did, either. She still wasn’t entirely over the last heartbreak, and if he did it again, she feared she’d never get over it.

  23

  Scarlett

  Every step Scarlett took from the palace felt like a move in the wrong direction.

  To avoid the chaos of Legend’s Midnight Maze, which had taken over all of the outer palace grounds, Scarlett had asked Nicolas for another meeting spot. He’d responded by sending a hand-drawn map with clues. She imagined he was trying at romance, and if the map had been from Julian, it would have worked. But instead of feeling romanced, Scarlett felt as if she were making a mistake.

  She should have told Tella that she was going to see Nicolas. She’d told Tella she was calling off the game. But she hadn’t confessed she was telling Nicolas this in person. Deep down, Scarlett knew it was a questionable choice to leave the safety of the palace grounds.

  After yesterday’s incidents with the Poisoner, she’d not heard of any other Fates causing havoc for fun. But as Scarlett walked Valenda’s steep streets, she saw multiple Fates in the form of warnings and Wanted posters tacked up by Legend’s guards.

  The flickering pages were all over the city. Some cautioned people not to accept drinks from strangers. Others had the word Wanted above sketches that resembled Tella’s description of the Fallen Star. But they didn’t explicitly say that they were actually Fates. The partygoers on the street just strolled by them.

  Scarlett wanted to shake everyone that walked past and make them read the notices. She knew the Fates fed off of fear, but everyone looked far too vulnerable.

  Scarlett reached into her pocket, checking once again to make sure the Reverie Key was still there. At least she was protected—if she wanted to escape all she needed to do was shove the key in the closest lock. And yet she couldn’t shrug off her unease.

  Even her dress seemed uncertain.

  As she followed the map to the docks at the edge of the city, Scarlett’s gown turned a wary shade of brown, perfect for being overlooked. A few more steps over rickety wood and her nose tickled with the familiar scents of salt and fish and forever wet wood.

  Trisda, the tiny isle where she’d spent most of her life, had always smelled like this. Rather than making her homesick, it made her want to flee, the same way Trisda had always made her want to flee. But Scarlett had decided after Caraval that she would not let fear rule her.

  She counted the docks, following the map Nicolas had drawn for her until she came upon a long wharf covered with a black-and-gold carpet that led to a ship that looked like a floating palace. Its hull was carved with ornate images of mermaids and mermen holding tridents and seashells. The masts were decorated as well—giants with crowns of stars around their heads as they held out sumptuous purple sails.

  It was almost offensive in its finery. This ship belonged to someone who thought extremely highly of himself. That wasn’t the impression she’d had of Nicolas. He’d seemed more down-to-earth. But everyone wore their disguises.

  Scarlett stopped just as she stepped onto the dock. She’d felt nervous about meeting him before, but now she felt a lick of fear that warned her to turn around. She didn’t owe Nicolas anything.

  Most people did not take rejection well. And it seemed especially unwise to reject Nicolas on his boat, which he could easily toss her over the side of—or sail away with her still on board.

  She turned around. Scarlett wanted to be brave, but she didn’t want to be foolish.

  “Scarlett? Are you Scarlett Dragna?” The voice didn’t sound like Nicolas.

  Run. Hide. Scream. Her
feelings turned bright warning red. She started to run.

  But it was already too late.

  A black bag went over her head.

  “Let me go!” Scarlett tried to rip the bag off as she screamed. But her hands were yanked behind her and roughly tied together.

  “Be careful with her,” a new voice commanded. “He wants his daughter undamaged.”

  24

  Donatella

  Tella didn’t know what pure anticipation smelled like until she reached Legend’s Midnight Maze. The scent of red cloves and growing leaves permeated everything.

  She had expected simple leafy green hedges, but she should have known better than to attach the word simple to anything involving Legend. Each living wall was formed of different rare flowers. Burning orange starfire lilies. Deep purple twilight thistles. Brilliant gold creeping faisies. Champagne delights. Scorching red feverbells. All of which grew and stretched with every person that stepped inside.

  During her first Caraval, Tella had learned emotions were one of the things that fueled magic, making her wonder if Legend became stronger the more people enjoyed his party, and as a result, the glamour and illusion of the party also grew.

  Not that Tella had seen Legend. But she’d heard a few whispers about how magnificent His Handsomeness looked tonight. Apparently, the nickname hadn’t just been part of her dream. But Tella still felt a possessive urge to snap at anyone who uttered it.

  Her nerves over what Legend might ask and how she would respond attacked, knotting her up as she slipped deeper into the maze. The fireflies had arrived, making everyone she passed appear a little enchanted as their laughter and flirtations tripped over her head.

  Contrary to what the name implied, the Midnight Maze did not begin at midnight. It started around sundown when the horizon was a battle of colors, as if the clouds were trying to break free from the sky. They were probably attempting to reach the maze, which was full of even more colors.

  Tella wouldn’t have been surprised if some of it was Legend’s doing. With so many enthusiastic emotions swirling around the maze, his magic should have been growing stronger. Perhaps that was another reason why he’d wanted to go through with hosting the maze—he needed it to fuel his powers before the Fates finished waking up.

  “Oh, look!” a nearby partygoer exclaimed. “That door just sprung up in the middle of the hedge. Let’s see if it takes us to the center of the maze.”

  Tella heard a rustle of dancing skirts and a muttered “Gentlemen first.”

  Then the giggling pack of people in front of her was gone, vanished through a door bursting with celestial blue dragonsnaps that disappeared along with them. Only a hovering parade of fireflies and a patch of near-silence remained. All Tella could hear was the flutter of wings, soft as dreamy lullabies and delicate as butterflies.

  Her skin tickled with fluttering that she only usually felt in her stomach as she looked down to see her dress coming to life with the beat of a hundred wings. Tella laughed and butterflies burst free from a skirt that had been inanimate only moments ago.

  Legend was there.

  He had to be nearby. He was bringing her dress to life and making the maze shift in front of her eyes. It moved more rapidly than before, growing taller and thicker and stronger. Leafy crenulations formed at the top of it, giving everything an enchanted castle-like appearance.

  She chased after the butterflies leaping off her dress until she found a glowing archway formed of dazzling white diamond peonies.

  As soon as she was through the arch, the flowers moved behind her, sealing her away from the rest of the party and leaving her alone with Legend.

  She took several heartbeats just to drink him in.

  A dusting of bronze light surrounded him, making his skin glow and his eyes look a little brighter, as Legend leaned against a leafy wall on the opposite side of the enclosure. He was dressed in shades of charcoal black except for the deep red trousers he wore, tucked into tall polished boots. His coat was longer than usual, nearly to the ground, with a regal high collar lined in intricate thread the same color as the bronze light surrounding him, as if bits of the setting sun had stayed behind just to cling to him.

  “You’re such a show-off,” she teased.

  He gave her a devastating grin. “Only when I’m trying to impress a girl.” His eyes took their time looking her over, sparking a little as they lingered on the delicate ribbons that made up her bodice, before finally meeting her eyes.

  “You’re beautiful.” He pushed off the wall and stalked closer. But, for once, instead of hearing the confident stride of his boots, all she could hear were the words he’d written in his note: I meant what I said about wanting you.

  More butterflies took off from her skirt as Legend stopped right in front of her, close enough to touch. The world no longer smelled like anticipation. It smelled like him. Like magic and heartbreak.

  Please don’t break my heart again, she thought. Even if he didn’t ask her to marry him, he looked as if he was going to ask for something. Their secluded corner of the maze was growing brighter, full of infant stars that glittered and danced and shined, but Legend’s gaze remained firmly on hers, intent and intense and as intimate as any touch.

  Her breathing turned shallow.

  His mouth twitched at the corner. “Have I scared you already?”

  “Are you trying to scare me?”

  “I thought I already told you, I’m only trying to keep you.” His lips brushed a kiss to hers.

  The maze, the party, the world, disappeared. His mouth was soft and then it was gone.

  It happened so fast, Tella might have thought she imagined it if not for the teasing glimmer in his eyes.

  “I came here to claim a prize, not to be played with.” Tella held out a hand as if to collect.

  Legend laughed, deep and rumbling. “I’ll always want to play with you. But tonight I’m not playing. I want you, Donatella Dragna. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I’ve never asked anyone this, either.” His voice dropped so low it made her toes curl inside her slippers and half the butterflies on her skirt take flight.

  Scarlett was right. He was going to propose.

  His eyes grew brighter and his smile turned tempting. “I want to keep you, Tella. I want to make you immortal.”

  Everything inside of Tella went still. Immortal. He was asking to make her immortal, not to marry him.

  “I’d say you could take all the time you need to think about it. But now that the Fates are awake, I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want to risk losing you.” Legend’s hands wrapped around her waist. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her again, but this time it wouldn’t be just a quick brush of his lips. She could feel his hands growing hotter as his fingers spread out over her rib cage.

  If she leaned in, he’d kiss her until it consumed her, until she couldn’t breathe without him and she gasped yes to whatever he asked.

  Tella let him hold on, but she didn’t lean in. She hadn’t been entirely prepared for him to propose and she definitely wasn’t prepared for this. “I’m not sure I know what you’re asking. Are you offering to make me one of your performers?”

  “No.” His fingers stroked up and down her waist. “You’d be different. My performers aren’t immortal, just ageless. My magic keeps them from growing old, but I can only bring them back to life during Caraval, when my power is at its peak. Outside of Caraval, there’s nothing I can do for them. But as an immortal, if you died, you would always come back. No one could kill you. You’d never grow old or weak or frail. You’d be young and strong and alive forever.”

  The lights around them glittered like gems, spinning and whirling and promising that a forever with Legend would be full of magic as well. It’d be like living in one of his dreams. But for some reason, Tella couldn’t bring herself to say yes.

  Legend’s mouth turned down, and his hands tightened around her waist. “I thought you’d be more excited. This way we can be togethe
r.”

  He still looked as if he wanted to kiss her, but rather than lean in, his fingers toyed with the ribbons of her bodice, carefully loosening them so his hands could reach through to brush her bare back.

  Her eyes fluttered shut. Only the tips of his fingers touched her skin but Tella felt it everywhere. He’d told her that he wasn’t playing with her tonight, but he definitely was—though she wondered if he even realized it.

  People didn’t really matter to Legend. People were game pieces inside of his world. He’d even turned the witch who’d created him into a sacrificed pawn so that he could go on. And yet, despite everything, Tella wanted to believe he didn’t see her that way. Rather than preserve herself, she wanted to persevere. She wanted to believe he wouldn’t break her heart again. She wanted to believe he wasn’t manipulating her, that she was his one exception. But maybe Legend didn’t know how to make exceptions. Maybe he deceived everyone.

  He said he’d never had feelings like this before, and he’d never offered to make anyone immortal, but he’d not bothered to mention the one weakness she’d learned about last night.

  Immortals cannot love. Love is poison to us. Love and immortality cannot coexist.

  On very rare occasions we come across humans who tempt us to love.… If an immortal feels love for even a minute, they become human for that minute. If the feeling lasts too long, their mortality becomes permanent.

  Suddenly everything became clear. Tella understood why Legend showed up in her dreams but kept his distance, refusing to touch her until tonight, right before making an offer to change her. Last night she’d thought Legend had real feelings for her—that he could love her. But it was the opposite. Legend wasn’t changing—he was hoping to change her.

  And she didn’t believe it was so that she wouldn’t die. Legend wanted to make her immortal so that he wouldn’t die.