Caraval Series, Book 1

by Stephanie Garber

  Julian denied nothing as Legend popped the makeshift necklace open. Tick. Tick. Tick. The watch’s second hand wound its way up to the twelve, and a voice started pouring from the locket. It was barely above a whisper, but Scarlett clearly recognized the timbre as Julian’s.

  “I’m sorry, Crimson. I wish I could say what I’m sorry for, but the words—” He cut off for several tense clicks as the second hand continued its lap around the numbers. Then, as if it wounded him, Julian’s voice ground out, “It wasn’t just a game for me. I hope you can forgive me.”

  The edge of Legend’s eye ticked as he snapped the watch shut and addressed Julian. “I don’t remember this being part of any plans. Care to explain?”

  “I think it’s rather self-explanatory,” Julian answered. He turned back to Scarlett with the look she’d been searching for, his brown eyes full of all sorts of unspoken promises. He’d wanted to tell her the truth, but it seemed as if he physically couldn’t. Some spell or enchantment wouldn’t allow him to say the words. But he was still her Julian. Scarlett could feel the pieces of her battered heart daring to move back together. And it might have been a beautiful moment, if Legend had not chosen that same instant to pull out a knife and stab Julian in the chest.

  “No!” Scarlett wailed.

  Julian staggered and the whole world seemed to tilt and sway with him. The jade lights of the cavern muted to brown.

  Scarlett rushed to his side as blood bubbled up from his beautiful lips.

  “Julian!” She dropped to her knees as he fell to the cavern floor. Legend hadn’t hit his heart, but he must have punctured a lung. There was blood. So, so much blood. This must have been why he’d looked at her so coldly, making no effort to reveal the truth with so much as a glance. He had known Legend would punish him for his betrayal.

  “Julian, please…” Scarlett put her hands over the wound, soaking her palms in red for the second time that day.

  “It’s all right.” Julian coughed, more blood staining his mouth. “I probably deserved this.”

  “Don’t say that!” Scarlett ripped the cape from her shoulders and pressed it hard against Julian’s chest, trying to stop the bleeding. “I don’t believe that, and I don’t believe this is how it’s supposed to end.”

  “Then don’t let it end here. I’ve already told you—I’m not worth crying for.” Julian reached up to brush away one of her tears, but his hand fell before he reached her.

  “No! Don’t give up,” Scarlett begged. “Please, don’t leave me.” There were so many other things she wanted to say, but she feared that if she said her good-byes, it would make it easier for him to let go. “You can’t abandon me. You told me you were going to help me win the game!”

  “I lied—” Julian’s eyes fluttered. “I—”

  “Julian!” Scarlett cried, pushing harder against his chest as more blood soaked through the cape and onto her hands. “I don’t care if you lied. If you don’t die, I’ll forgive you for everything.”

  Julian’s eyes shut, as if he didn’t hear her.

  “Julian, please keep fighting. You’ve been fighting me this whole game, don’t stop now.”

  Slowly his eyelids lifted. For a moment it looked as if he was coming back to her. “I lied about how I got bashed in the head,” he mumbled. “I wanted you to have your earrings back. But the man was tougher than he looked.… I got into a little trouble. But it was worth it to see your face.…” A ghost of a smile moved his lips. “I should have stayed away from you … but I really wanted you to succeed.… I wanted to—”

  Julian’s head fell back.

  “No!” Beneath her hands, Scarlett felt his chest fall a final time.

  “Julian. Julian. Julian!” She pressed her hands to his heart but nothing moved.

  Scarlett didn’t know how many times she repeated his name. She said it like a prayer. A plea. A whisper. A good-bye.

  34

  Scarlett had never wanted time to stop before, to slip into a crawl so slow that one heartbeat would take a year, a breath would take a lifetime, and a touch could last an eternity. Usually she wanted the opposite, for time to speed up, race ahead, so that she could escape any current pain and move forward into a new, unblemished moment.

  But Scarlett knew that when this instant ended the next would not feel fresh, or thick with promise for the future. It would be incomplete, lacking, void, because Julian would not be in it.

  Scarlett’s tears fell harder as she felt Julian die. His muscles losing tension. His body growing colder. His skin taking on a gray pallor that there was no return from.

  She knew Legend was watching. Taking sick pleasure from her pain. But a part of her couldn’t bear to let go of Julian, as if he might miraculously take another breath, or manage another heartbeat. She’d once heard emotions and desires fueled the magic that made wishes possible. But either Scarlett didn’t feel enough, or the stories she’d heard about wishes were made of lies.

  Or, perhaps, she was thinking of the wrong stories.

  Hope is a powerful thing. Some say it’s a different breed of magic altogether. Elusive, difficult to hold on to. But not much is needed.

  And Scarlett did not have much, just the memory of a poorly written poem.

  THIS GIRL WAS LAST SEEN WITH LEGEND.

  IF YOU CATCH HER, YOU SHALL CATCH HIM AS WELL.

  OF COURSE, YOU MAY HAVE TO VENTURE THROUGH HELL.

  BUT IF YOU SUCCEED YOU MAY FIND YOURSELF RICH.

  THIS YEAR’S WINNER WILL BE GRANTED ONE WISH.

  Scarlett had momentarily forgotten about the wish, but if she could find Tella first, and wish for Julian’s life, maybe it could end happily after all. That anything could be happy again seemed almost as unreal as a wish, but it was all she had left to hope for.

  As she looked up, ready to demand her sister’s location again, she realized Legend had vanished. All he’d left was Julian’s pocket watch and his own velvet top hat, resting on a dark letter.

  Black rose petals drifted to the ground as Scarlett picked up the note. It was rimmed in onyx black leafing, a shadow of the first letter Legend had sent her.

  * * *

  Dear Miss Dragna,

  Your presence is requested for the funeral of Donatella Dragna, tomorrow, one hour after sunrise. Unless you manage to prevent her death.

  Yours truly,

  Legend

  P.S. I recommend taking the stairs to your right.

  * * *

  Scarlett’s hand fisted around the letter. This was more than madness. This was something perverted that Scarlett did not understand. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to understand it.

  Again, she was struck with the feeling this was personal to her, that it was about more than just Legend’s sordid past with her grandmother Anna.

  Behind her the water started rushing again. She didn’t know if that meant others were coming. She hated to leave Julian’s body—he deserved so much more than to be abandoned in a cave—but if she was going to save him, she needed to end this, find Tella, and get that wish.

  Scarlett looked up to see more jade firefly lights dancing in the air, moving like a curtain of glowing smoke to illuminate a fork in the stairs before her.

  Legend had recommended the set to her right. She imagined he knew she wouldn’t trust him, so there was a good chance he’d told the truth because of that. However, he was cunning enough to know she would have thought that too.

  She started toward the stairs on the left, only to change her mind at the last minute, as she remembered what Legend said about telling the truth. Her father seldom told the entire truth, but he also rarely outright lied. He saved his lies for when they would count the most. Scarlett figured Legend was the same way.

  She pushed herself to run up the stairs, spiral after spiral after spiral, remembering all the staircases she’d traveled with Julian. With every flight she fought against tears and fatigue. Whenever she managed not to cry over Julian, she imagined finding Tella the same way she’
d left him, unmoving body, unbeating heart, unseeing eyes.

  The world felt thinner by the time Scarlett reached the top of the steps. Sweat soaked her gown, and her legs burned and shook. If she’d chosen the wrong staircase she didn’t imagine she’d have the strength to run back down and then back up again.

  In front of her was a spindly ladder leading to a small square trapdoor. Scarlett lost her footing several times as she climbed. She had no idea what she’d find on the other side of the door. She felt heat. There were sounds of crackling as well. Definitely a fire.

  Scarlett tottered against the ladder, praying it was just a fire in a hearth, not an entire room ablaze. She sucked in a deep breath as she pulled the trapdoor.

  NIGHT FIVE THE LAST NIGHT OF CARAVAL

  35

  Starlight everywhere.

  Constellations Scarlett had never seen domed a vast, inky night. The world was made of a rimless balcony, its floor a stretch of luminous onyx, with oversize cushioned lounges in shades of stardust, and small fire pits growing incandescent blue flames.

  High above the rest of the world, it should have felt cold, but the air was warm as Scarlett crawled through the opening, the buttons of her dress softly tinkling against the polished floor. Everything about this place reeked of Legend, even the scent of the fire pits, as if the logs were made of velvet and something slightly sweet. The air felt soft and poisonous. Closer to the room’s back wall, a massive black bed, piled with pillows as dark as nightmares, mocked her. Scarlett didn’t know what Legend used this room for, but her sister was nowhere—

  “Scar?” A petite figure sat up in the bed. Honey-blond curls bounced around a face that might have been angelic, if it wasn’t for her devil’s grin.

  “Oh, my love!” Tella squealed, jumping out of the bed and capturing Scarlett in an embrace before she made it halfway across the room. When she hugged Scarlett with her fierce arms, it made Scarlett believe happy endings were possible. Her sister was alive. She felt like softness and sunlight and seeds for growing dreams.

  Now Scarlett just needed to bring back Julian.

  Scarlett pulled away only to make sure it was really Tella, who often embraced her but not usually with that much enthusiasm.

  “Are you all right?” She looked her sister over for signs of any cuts or bruises. Scarlett could not allow her excitement to let her forget why she was there. “Have you been treated well?”

  “Oh, Scar! Always the worrier. I’m so glad you’re finally here. For once I was starting to fret.” Tella sucked in a deep breath, or maybe it was a shiver since she was standing in only a thin, pale-blue nightdress. “I was beginning to fear you were never going to come—not that it isn’t so lovely up here.”

  Tella waved her arms toward all the stars, ones that felt close enough to grab and tuck inside a pocket. Too close, in Scarlett’s mind. Like the raised edge around the balcony, so low to the floor it almost wasn’t a barrier at all. A prison disguised to look like a master suite with a palatial view.

  “Tella, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Tella said. “I was just getting awfully bored.”

  “Bored—” Scarlett choked on the word. She didn’t imagine Caraval would have changed her sister as much as it had changed herself, but bored?

  “Don’t mistake me. There have been perks, and I’ve been treated well—God’s teeth!” Tella’s round eyes widened as they dropped to Scarlett’s bloody hands and dress. “What happened? There’s blood all over you!”

  “It’s not mine.” Scarlett’s throat felt tight as she looked down at her palms. Just one drop had given her a day of Julian’s life. It made her ache to think how many days were splattered all over her body—days he should have lived.

  Tella grimaced. “Whose blood is it?”

  “I’d rather not explain right here.” Scarlett stopped, not quite sure what to say. They needed to get out of there, away from Legend, but Scarlett also needed to find him again if she was going to collect her wish and save Julian.

  “Tella, we need to leave.” Scarlett would move her sister to safety, then she’d come back for the wish. “Dress quickly; don’t bring anything that will weigh us down. Tella, why aren’t you moving? We don’t have much time!”

  But Tella didn’t budge. She just stood there in her fragile blue nightdress, a rumpled angel, looking up at Scarlett with wide, worried eyes.

  “I was warned this might happen.” Tella softened her voice, using that awful tone mostly reserved for unreasonable children or old people. “I don’t know where you think we need to run to, but it’s all right. The game is over. This room, it’s the end, Scar. You can sit down and take a breath.” Tella tried to guide her to one of the ridiculous cushioned lounges.

  “No!” Scarlett pulled away. “Whoever gave you that warning lied. It was never just a game. I don’t know what they told you, but you’re in danger—we’re both in danger. Father’s here.”

  Tella’s eyebrows peaked, but she quickly smoothed her expression out, as if she wasn’t alarmed at all. “Are you sure it wasn’t just some sort of illusion?”

  “I’m positive. We need to get out of here. I have a friend…” Scarlett couldn’t say Julian’s name—she could barely say the word friend—but she forced herself to stay strong for Tella. “My friend, he has a boat and it’s going to take us where we want to go. Like you’ve always wanted.”

  Scarlett reached for her sister, but this time Tella was the one to step back, pursing her lips. “Scar, please, listen to what you’re saying. Your eyes have played tricks on you. Don’t you remember the warning they gave when we arrived: don’t let yourself get swept too far away?”

  “What if I told you this year’s game is different?” Scarlett said, and as quickly as possible, she tried to explain Legend’s history with their grandmother. “He’s brought us here for revenge. I know you’ve been treated well, but whatever he’s told you, it’s a lie. We need to leave.”

  As Scarlett spoke, Tella’s expression had shifted. She started gnawing on her lower lip, though whether it was fear for their lives or for Scarlett’s sanity, Scarlett could not tell. “You really believe this?” Tella asked.

  Scarlett nodded and hoped desperately that their sisterly bond would overcome Tella’s doubts. “I know how this sounds, but I’ve seen the proof.”

  “All right, then. Give me a moment.” Tella bustled off, disappearing behind a large black dressing curtain near her bed, while Scarlett worked to push one of the lounges until it covered up the trapdoor, cutting off the stairs she’d used to get there. As she finished, Tella reappeared, wrapped in a blue silk robe, holding a cloth in one hand and a water basin in the other.

  “What are you doing?” Scarlett asked. “Why don’t you have on proper clothes?”

  “Sit down.” Tella motioned toward one of the many cushioned things. “We’re not in danger, Scar. Whatever you’re afraid of, I know you think it’s real, but that’s the entire point of Caraval. It’s all supposed to feel real, but none of it is. Now, sit, and I’ll wash off some of the blood. You’ll feel better when you’re clean.”

  Scarlett didn’t sit.

  Tella was using the voice again, the one for crazed children and delusional adults. Not that Scarlett could blame her. If she hadn’t come face-to-face with their father, and if she hadn’t seen Julian die, if she hadn’t felt his heart stop, his warm blood on her hands, or watched as the life drained out of him, she might have been able to doubt it was real.

  If only she could doubt it.

  “What if I can prove it?” Scarlett pulled out the funeral invitation. “Right before I came up here, Legend left me this.” She thrust the note into Tella’s hand. “Look for yourself. He plans to murder you!”

  “Because of Nana Anna?” Tella scowled as she read. Then she seemed to be fighting a laugh. “Oh, Scar, I think you’ve taken this letter the wrong way.”

  Tella smothered another giggle as she handed the note back to her. The first thin
g Scarlett noticed were the edges. No longer black, they were now lined in gold, and the script was altered as well.

  * * *

  Dear Miss Dragna,

  As my special guest, I’d like to invite you and your sister to a party, usually reserved for my Caraval performers. It starts one hour after sunset. I know I’m not the only one who hopes to see you and your sister there.

  Yours,

  Legend

  * * *

  36

  There’s nothing threatening about this.” Tella laughed. “Not unless you’re nervous about the idea of Legend fancying you?”

  “No! That’s not what it said before. It was an invitation to a funeral, your funeral.” Scarlett looked at Tella, her eyes pleading. “I’m not crazy,” she insisted. “This note was different when I read it in the tunnels.”

  “The ones beneath the game?” Tella interrupted. “Aren’t the tunnels where people go mad?”

  “It was a different set. Tella, I swear, I’m not insane. The note said you would die tomorrow unless I could stop it. Please, even if you don’t believe me, I need you to try.”

  Tella must have seen her desperation. “Let me see the paper again.”

  Scarlett handed it back. Her sister examined the invite with particular care this time, holding it close to one of the fire pits. But no matter what, the script didn’t change.

  “Tella, I swear, it was for a funeral, not a party.”

  “I believe you,” Tella said.

  “You do?”

  “Well, I’m guessing it’s like the tickets you received on Trisda, it changes in certain lights. But, Scar…” That painfully careful voice once more. “Couldn’t it be just another part of the game, a device to get you up here, because it was taking you so long, and now that you are here: ta-da! The note has changed from a threat to a reward. Tell me, which makes more sense?”

  The way Tella said it sounded so very reasonable. And oh, how Scarlett wanted her to be right. She knew how deceiving the tunnels—and Legend—could be. But Legend was not the only threat.