Tella’s breath went short. “What are you doing?”
“Asking you again.” He kissed her, harsh and quick and a little bit savage. She parted her lips, but that was all she could do. The hand at her waist kept her pressed to him, while the fingers at her neck spread out, covering her throat as he angled her head back, taking complete control as he deepened the kiss. He was possessing her, owning her with every sweep of his tongue and press of his lips, wordlessly telling her once more that he wanted to keep her forever. He didn’t kiss her as if he’d simply just come back to life. He kissed her as if he’d died, been buried, and clawed his way out of the grave and through the dirt just to get to her.
Tella had never experienced such a heady feeling in her life. He might not have loved her, but Julian was right that Legend knew how to make her feel wanted.
“Just say yes,” he said against her lips. “Let me make you immortal.”
“You’re not playing fair,” she murmured.
“I never said I did, and I won’t this time.” His thumb stroked the sensitive column of her neck. “You’re too important, Tella.”
But you don’t love me. Although as painful as it was to know that he didn’t love her now, she also knew that if he had, he wouldn’t be alive right now.
“Ahem.” The older sister cleared her throat. “If you wish to start making that child now, I’m afraid this isn’t the place.”
Tella leaped away from Legend, crashing back to a terrible reality and blushing harder than she ever had in her entire life.
“Now, I suggest we move on,” the older sister continued. “If you two keep at whatever it is you’re doing, weeks will have passed in your world by the time you leave ours.”
Dirty saints. Tella really had forgotten about the time. She hadn’t heard any bells ring, but she imagined more than an hour must have passed, maybe even longer, which meant at least a day had come and gone in her world. Another day that her sister was being held captive by the Fate who’d murdered her mother, and the people of Valenda suffered unknowable terrors, as the other Fates played with them like toys they wanted to break.
And she’d been kissing Legend.
Tella’s eyes shot back to the red jasper box in the older woman’s hands. That was what she’d come here for—a secret that could save them all—and she needed it, regardless of the cost.
“I’ll do it,” Tella said. “I’ll make the trade.”
“Tella, you don’t have to do this.” Legend turned to the older sister, tilting his head and flashing a smile that would have made most ladies swoon. “You can have one of my secrets.”
The older sister pursed her lips. “We’re not interested.”
An offended crease formed between Legend’s dark brows. “Then there has to be something else you want.”
Outside, the sun was still filling the world with lemony light, but none of it reached inside the tent. The air was growing colder, filling with heavy waves of creeping silver-blue fog.
“Legend—” Tella put a hand on his arm, before the fog became too thick to see through. “It’s all right, you don’t have to save me. I know what I’m doing.”
“But you shouldn’t have to do it.” He turned back to her, and though he didn’t say another word, his eyes were soft, apologetic. And she knew this wasn’t about him or his secrets.
Legend was thinking about the one thing that Tella hadn’t wanted to think about. Or rather, the one person—her mother.
When her mother had possessed the Deck of Destiny that imprisoned the Fates, the Temple of the Stars had wanted Paloma to give them Scarlett, in exchange for hiding the cursed Deck of Destiny. Her mother had refused, but she’d easily offered the temple Tella. And it had felt like the worst sort of betrayal, similar to what Tella was doing now.
“You don’t have to do this,” Legend said.
But Tella didn’t see a better choice, and she feared she couldn’t risk taking the time to find one. “My sister—she’s with the Fallen Star. She won’t be safe until he’s dead.”
“I know, Julian told me before I found you here.”
“Then you know that I do have to do this now.” Tella turned back to the sisters before her conscience tried to convince her to change her mind. “You have a deal.”
“Excellent,” said the oldest. “We just need to seal your promise. If you fail to discover your daughter’s secret weakness by her seventeenth birthday, or choose not to give it to us, the cost will be your life.”
And before anyone could protest, the younger sister pressed a thick rod of iron to the underside of Tella’s wrist.
She screamed out loud.
Legend shot forward and grabbed her free hand. “Look at me, Tella.” His grip was strong and reassuring, but it wasn’t nearly enough to distract her from the pain, or the sorrow. So much sorrow.
Tella was familiar with heartbreak, but this was the sort of hurt that came from breaking someone else’s heart. A fragile heart. A child’s heart. A daughter’s heart.
Tella closed her eyes to stop the tears.
The younger sister pulled the iron from Tella’s wrist. Where there had once been flawless flesh there was now a thin white scar in the shape of a lock made of thorns. It didn’t hurt. The pain instantly disappeared with the brand. But although Tella didn’t feel pain or sorrow anymore, she also didn’t quite feel like she had before.
She thought about her mother, and the vision of when her mother had given Tella away. Tella would never know why her mother made the choices she had, but in that moment Tella believed that it wasn’t because she didn’t care, it was because she did care. She cared enough to do whatever needed to be done. Maybe that’s why she’d chosen to give up Tella instead of Scarlett. Scarlett would willingly sacrifice herself—destroy herself—if she felt it was the right thing. Tella was more like Paloma, willing to do whatever it took, even if it was the wrong thing, if it got her what she needed. Maybe Paloma sacrificed Tella because she knew it wouldn’t destroy her.
But Tella silently vowed that she would make sure her daughter wouldn’t have to make these sorts of choices at all. When this was over, Tella would find a way to make it all right, no matter what it took.
* * *
Tella clutched the red jasper box with one hand and Legend’s hand with the other. He hadn’t let go since he’d taken hold of it in the tent. His heavy fingers remained laced with hers, keeping her tucked close to his side as they wove back through the bustling market. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again, but occasionally, when she glanced at him, she saw a satisfied smile.
Tella wanted to peek inside the box, wanted to know which secret she’d promised so much for. But she didn’t want to remain longer than necessary. She imagined she’d spent an hour or two, but maybe it had been longer. Maybe she and Legend had lost three or four days instead of only one or two.
When they crossed through the archway that took them back to Valenda, the sky was midnight blue, making it impossible to tell the hour or how much time had passed.
Legend had private residences all over the city. Julian was supposedly waiting for them at the Narrow House in the Spice Quarter. Of all his performers, only Aiko, Nigel, Caspar, and Jovan knew about it.
Heading there should have felt safer than lingering on the ragged streets of Valenda; it hadn’t taken long for trash to collect now that the monarchy was in upheaval. Tella didn’t spy any Fates, but she detected their taint taking up residence where night revelers had once been.
The jasper box in her hand grew heavier. She had the urge to open it now, but they’d already reached the Narrow House, which was indeed a slender structure. At first glance it appeared barely wider than a doorway, and just as crooked as all the other homes in this part of the city. But the closer they drew, the wider it grew.
Tella watched as decorative arched windows appeared on either side of the door. Beneath them rested flower boxes, overflowing with white foxglove, which Tella would have sworn weren’t there moment
s ago.
The house would have looked curiously inviting if she had not glanced up to see the Maiden Death standing in the center of the second-story window, flashing a macabre smile from behind her cage of pearls.
Legend’s hand gripped Tella’s tighter.
In Decks of Destiny, the Maiden Death’s card predicted a loss of a loved one or a family member. And it was her card that had first predicted Tella would lose her mother.
The air around her crackled and a fraction of a second later a hooded figure materialized between Tella and Legend.
Tella froze. She couldn’t see this figure’s face, it was concealed by his cloak, but she didn’t need to. There was only one Fate with the ability to travel through space and time and materialize at will: the Assassin—who, according to Jacks, was also insane.
“The Maiden Death is here to see the two of you,” he said.
34
Donatella
The Narrow House was another one of Legend’s deceptions.
Tella had seen through the glamour outside and thought it had looked charming. But inside, it reminded Tella of the illusion Legend had created in the dungeon, when he’d turned her cell into a four-story study. The ceilings of the Narrow House stretched even higher, and the books on the surrounding shelves didn’t look as flawless as they had in his illusion. Some of the volumes were aged and cracked and fragile, as if they’d experienced several previous lives before finding homes on these shelves.
Legend had one arm protectively around Tella’s shoulders as they entered the vaulted room. He hadn’t even wanted Tella to enter the house, but the Assassin had been insistent and so had Tella—this was her fight as well as Legend’s.
The scene they’d stepped into could have been a painting called Hostages at a Tea Party. Legend’s most trusted performers were sitting stiffly in tufted red chairs that encircled a shiny ebony table, set with a pewter tea service that no one touched, except Nigel, Legend’s tattoo-covered fortune-teller. Julian and Jovan were there, as well as Aiko—Legend’s historiographer who captured the history of Caraval through pictures—and Caspar, who’d once pretended to be Tella’s fiancé.
Behind them, the Assassin and the Maiden Death hovered like grim hosts. A few of the other Fates Tella had seen sometimes glowed, but the Assassin, who kept his face concealed by his heavy hood, appeared to collect shadows.
The Maiden Death looked exactly like her card from Decks of Destiny. Her head was covered in curving bars of pearls that wrapped around like a cage, and her dress looked more like long tatters of gossamer fabric that had been tied together. She didn’t glow, either, but her frayed garment billowed around her, as if she kept a private wind on a leash.
“Do not be afraid of us,” said the Maiden Death. “We are here to help defeat the Fallen Star.”
“And if we wanted to hurt you, I’d have shoved daggers through each of your hearts the moment I saw you outside.” The Assassin’s voice was like nails pounding through glass, harsh and discordant.
“Is that really how you win people over?” muttered Julian.
“Daeshim,” the Maiden Death chided in a voice far softer than her cloaked companion’s, “remember what we talked about?”
“You said to be friendly. That was a joke.”
No one laughed except for Jovan. “I think you need some work on your humor, mate.”
“If you don’t kill us all, I’ll help you out,” added Caspar.
“Thank you,” the Assassin answered. Not that his politeness appeared to relax anyone. If anything, more tension filled the room. Watching Caspar and Jovan smile at the hooded Assassin felt like observing kittens hop toward a crocodile.
“I know you have little reason to trust us, but I come to warn of harm, not bring it.” The Maiden Death’s mournful eyes met Legend’s and the wind that made her shredded dress billow grew stronger. “I sense your entire world is in danger if you refuse to accept our help.”
“Any danger to our world is because of your kind,” Legend said.
“You’re not that different from us,” replied the Maiden Death. “You’re immortal and you have abilities like ours. But you do not know what it is like to be connected to the Fallen Star. We are his immortal abominations, and when we act out, he punishes us eternally. Your myths claim that Death imprisoned my head in pearls, but it was really Gavriel. Once upon a time, he wanted me. I refused him. So, he had my head caged in this cursed globe, to keep anyone else from touching me. I have tried to remove it; I’ve even died and come back to life, but the cage will remain until Gavriel dies.”
“And what’s your tale of woe?” Tella asked the Assassin.
“It’s none of your business. You should trust me because I’m not killing any of you right now.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Caspar said with a laugh. It seemed he thought the Assassin was telling another joke. Tella wasn’t so sure.
Julian appeared leery as well. He sat opposite where the Fates stood, elbows on the table as he leaned forward with a stare that was on the verge of asking for a fight. “We all agree, everyone hates the Fallen Star. But I still find it hard to believe you’d want him dead, since killing him makes you two more vulnerable.”
“Being vulnerable is not as bad as some believe,” said the Maiden Death. “The Fallen Star’s death would make us ageless. If we died, we wouldn’t come back to life, it’s true. But if we are ageless, we could still live almost as long as an immortal if we’re careful. Although, not all of us want to even live that long. Some among our kind would like to have the option of finally dying. But they are not willing to openly oppose him. No one wants to spend an eternity in a cage.”
“That I believe.” Legend’s tone was more diplomatic than his brother’s, but it was clear from the heavy weight he put behind it that one wrong move from the Fates would change his approach. “Can we all have a minute alone? If you’re really here to help us, I don’t imagine that will be a problem.”
The Maiden Death silently glided toward where Legend and Tella stood near the door. Once she left, the Assassin simply—and unnervingly—disappeared in a way that reminded everyone he could reappear, with the knives he spoke about earlier.
Tella swore the walls shuddered, as if the study had finally stopped holding its breath.
Legend loosened his grip on Tella but didn’t let her go as he moved closer to the table. This was the first time she’d ever seen him interact with his performers like this. Some of his performers didn’t even know who he truly was, but these were the ones he was closest to.
There was a respectful silence as Legend and Tella reached the table together. Everyone looked anxious to give their opinion. But no one said a word until Legend turned to Nigel.
The tattooed fortune-teller picked up a cup of tea and took a sip before speaking, his lips surrounded by inked barbed wire. “I couldn’t get a read on either Fate. The Assassin’s eyes were concealed by his hood and when the Maiden Death looked my way, she only met my eyes. Her gaze never ventured to any of my tattoos.”
“What’s your personal impression?” Legend asked.
“Never trust a Fate,” Nigel said.
“If the Assassin had wanted to hurt us, he would have,” Caspar interrupted.
“Maybe their plans involve more than murdering us in a parlor,” said Jovan.
“Not all Fates are murderers,” Aiko said.
“So you think we should trust them?” asked Legend.
“Yes,” Caspar and Aiko answered at the same time Jovan firmly said, “No. Anyone who uses a ‘the’ in front of their name is never trustworthy. But since your orders were for the rest of our troupe to head back to your island for safety, it might not be a bad idea to consider new allies.”
Legend turned to Julian.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but—” Julian rubbed his hand up and down along the scar marking his face. “I like the Assassin’s powers. He could go to Crimson if we ever needed him to.”
She eased herself from under Legend’s arm and held out her red jasper box as she quickly explained why it might be the answer to all of their problems.
But almost as soon as Tella undid the latch, she realized it would not be an answer to any problems. The note inside was so thin, it looked as if it might fall apart with a touch.
* * *
Gavriel, the Fallen Star, was human once.
This happened only briefly, right before he was betrayed by the only human he ever loved, Paradise the Lost.
* * *
Tella ignored the pang she felt at the sight of her mother’s name and reread the note, hoping more words would show up on the page. But they didn’t.
This was not what she had wanted.
Tella wanted a list of weaknesses, a fatal flaw, or a simple plan that outlined exactly how to murder a Fate or a Fallen Star. But this secret only told her that the one person who could kill the Fallen Star was already dead.
“Never mind that idea.” Tella dropped the box on the table. She would have crumpled up the useless words inside it as well, but the note had disappeared as soon as she finished rereading it. Poof. Gone.
She could feel her hope dwindling, but Tella refused to give up on finding the Fallen Star’s weakness. And the note did reveal one thing. On the night her mother had died, Tella hadn’t understood why her mother had stabbed him. But now she did. Paloma must have thought that Gavriel still loved her and that their reunion would turn him mortal so that she could kill him. Only, he’d killed her instead.
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