She continued to wish, as all around her the candled lamps slowly burned out until there was no more flame, like the unmoving girl in Scarlett’s arms.
It hadn’t worked.
Fresh tears ran down Scarlett’s cheeks. She could have held Tella until they dried up and she and her sister both turned to dust, a warning to any others who dared to get too swept away in the deception of Caraval.
* * *
The story could have ended there. In a storm of tears and muttered words. But just as the sun was about to rise, in the black instant before dawn, the darkest moment of the night, a dark brown hand gently rocked Scarlett’s shoulder.
Scarlett looked up to find Jovan. The candles and lanterns had almost turned to smoke, so Scarlett could barely see her, but she recognized the light lilt of her voice. “The game’s about to officially end. Soon the morning bells will toll, and people will start packing up. I thought you might want to collect your sister’s things.”
Scarlett craned her neck toward Tella’s rimless balcony—no, Legend’s rimless balcony. “Whatever is up there, I don’t want it.”
“Oh, but you may want these items,” said Jo.
THE DAY AFTER CARAVAL
39
When Scarlett arrived at Tella’s balcony room she imagined it was a ploy, another way to torment her. The possessions in the suite were all newly acquired. Dresses. Furs. Gloves. None of it truly felt like Tella. The only thing that felt like her sister was Scarlett’s memory of the periwinkle gown Tella had died in. The gown that had failed to bring her a happy ending.
Whatever Jo thought—
Scarlett paused at the sight of something. On Tella’s vanity sat a long rectangular box made of etched glass and silver edges with a clasp that made Scarlett’s heart trip a beat. It was a sun with a star inside and a teardrop inside of the star.
The symbol of Caraval.
Scarlett now hated that crest more than the color purple, but she distinctly knew that box, with its wretched emblem, had not been there before.
Slowly Scarlett raised the lid.
A slip of paper. Carefully, she unfolded the note. It was dated almost a year ago.
* * *
1st day of the Hot Season,
Year 56, Elantine Dynasty
Dear Master Legend,
I believe you are a liar, a blackguard, and a villain, and I would very much like your help.
My father is a villain as well, though not the dashing sort like you. He’s the kind who likes to beat his daughters. I know this is not your problem, and since you probably have a heart made of black, perhaps you don’t care. But I’ve learned you did actually feel something when that woman threw herself from your balcony after you rejected her during Caraval a few years ago. I heard you were so upset, that was the real reason you stopped traveling.
Helping my sister and me won’t completely make up for whatever happened then, but it might help a little. I also think it would create a very interesting game, and I know how you like to play.
Yours truly,
Donatella Dragna
* * *
Scarlett reread the letter, again and again. Each time she believed it a little more and a little more, until at last she believed it without a doubt.
The game was not over yet. And it seemed Scarlett was right: this year’s Caraval really was about more than just Legend and her grandmother. In fact, it appeared her sister had made some sort of bargain with the master of Caraval himself.
“Jo!” she called. “Jovan!”
The girl appeared with a peculiar bounce to her step the second time her name was shouted.
“Take me to Master Legend,” Scarlett said.
40
What’s the meaning of this?” Scarlett demanded.
Across from her Legend sat in a tufted champagne chair looking out an oval window. There was no balcony, not in this room. Scarlett imagined these quarters were sick—if it were possible for a room to be ill. The large stretch of space was covered in dull shades of beige, with only two faded chairs.
Scarlett waved the letter in front of Legend, who’d yet to look away from the view. He peered down on all the people below, dragging trunks and carpetbags, as they began their exodus back into the “real” world.
“I was wondering when you’d come,” he said airily.
“What type of deal did you make with my sister?” Scarlett asked.
A sigh. “I didn’t make any deal.”
“Then why did you leave this letter?”
“I didn’t do that, either.” The master of Caraval finally looked away from the window, yet something about his placid expression was off-kilter—or rather missing.
“Think. Who would want you to have that letter?” he asked.
Again, Legend was her first thought.
“It was not me,” he repeated. “And here’s a hint, it shouldn’t be hard to figure out. Imagine who could have left it for you.”
“Donatella?” Scarlett breathed. She could have moved the box when she’d gone to fetch the rope. “But why?”
Ignoring her question, Legend handed Scarlett a short stack of letters. “I’m supposed to give you these, as well.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?” Scarlett said.
“Because that’s not my role.” Legend rose from his chair, moving so close to Scarlett he might have touched her. He was back in his velvet top hat and tailcoat. But he didn’t grin, or laugh, or do any of the mad things she’d begun to associate with him. He looked at her not as if he was trying see her, but as if he was trying to show her something about himself.
Again, Scarlett prickled with the feeling something was missing from him, as if the clouds had parted to reveal the sun, only there was nothing but more clouds. In Tella’s room, it seemed he’d wanted her to see how unhinged he was; he’d made her believe he might do something crazed at any moment. Now it appeared as if the opposite was true.
The words my role replayed in Scarlett’s thoughts.
“You’re not really Legend, are you?”
A faint smile.
“Does that mean yes or no?” Scarlett was in no mood for riddles.
“My name is Caspar.”
“That’s still not an answer,” Scarlett said. But even as she glared at him, puzzle pieces were clicking together inside her head, creating a complete picture of something she’d been unable to see until that moment. Around her neck, the pocket watch felt hot as she recalled the way Julian’s confession had cut off, as if he’d been physically unable to speak the words. The same thing had happened to him on the carousel, right before Scarlett had jumped.
“As a performer, magic prevents you from saying certain things,” Scarlett guessed aloud. She remembered something else then, words from a dream she’d been told she would not forget. They say Legend wears a different face every game.
Not magic. A variety of actors. It also explained why Caspar had looked dimmer and duller, like a copy of the real Legend, when they’d been up in the balcony—there really must have been some sort of glamour over him. And as Caraval had come to a close, it had begun to fade. The corners of his eyes were now red, the space beneath them puffy. In the tunnels, his fair skin had been eerily perfect, but now she could see tiny scars on his jaw, where she imagined he’d nicked himself shaving. He even had a few freckles on his nose.
“You’re not really Legend.” This time it was a statement, not a question. “That’s why you said you wouldn’t grant my wish. You’re just an actor, so you’re not capable of making wishes come true.”
It seemed the game truly wasn’t over.
Scarlett should have known better than to assume the real Legend would appear for her. How many years had she written him before ever hearing back?
“Is there really even a Legend?”
“Oh yes.” Caspar laughed, as faint as his smile, seasoned with something bitter. “Legend is very real, but most people have no idea if they have met him—includi
ng many of his performers. The master of Caraval doesn’t go around introducing himself as Legend. He’s almost always pretending to be someone else.”
Scarlett thought about the myriad people she’d seen during Caraval. She wondered if any of them had been the elusive Legend. “Have you ever met him?” she asked.
“I’m not allowed to answer that.”
In other words, he hadn’t.
“However,” he added, “it seems your sister managed to capture his attention.” Caspar nodded toward Scarlett’s hand.
Six letters, penned by two different people. Starting a season after Tella’s first correspondence.
* * *
1st day of the Harvest Season,
Year 56, Elantine Dynasty
Dear Miss Dragna,
You propose an interesting question, though I’m not sure what delusion has led you to believe I could help you. If you know my history, you’re aware of what happened between myself and your grandmother Annalise.
—L
* * *
* * *
16th day of the Harvest Season,
Year 56, Elantine Dynasty
Dear Master Legend,
I am very aware of your history. But I also know you were once told whatever roles you played during Caraval would affect who you are as a person. And I recently heard that after that woman killed herself, you decided you no longer wished to be a villain, and you were keen on becoming more the hero type. This is your chance at redemption.
Donatella Dragna
* * *
* * *
44th day of the Harvest Season,
Year 56, Elantine Dynasty
Dear Miss Dragna,
I am beyond redemption. However, depending on how far you’re willing to go, I’ve thought about it, and I may be able to work with you.
—L
* * *
* * *
61st day of the Harvest Season,
Year 56, Elantine Dynasty
Dear Master Legend,
I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’m willing to die.
Donatella Dragna
* * *
Scarlett cursed her sister for having written such foolish words. Foolish. Reckless. Irrational. Thoughtless—
Scarlett’s anger stilled as she read the next letter.
* * *
76th day of the Harvest Season,
Year 56, Elantine Dynasty
Dear Miss Dragna,
I take it you believe someone loves you enough to wish you back to life?
—L
* * *
* * *
1st day of the Cold Season,
Year 56, Elantine Dynasty
Dear Master Legend,
Absolutely.
Donatella Dragna
* * *
There were no more letters after that. Scarlett reread them, and every time, her eyes burned with new tears. What had Tella been thinking?
“It seems she thought you could wish her back,” Caspar said.
Scarlett didn’t realize she’d asked the question aloud. And perhaps Caspar’s response should have made her feel better.
It didn’t.
Scarlett looked down at the letters once again. “How did my sister know all of this?”
“I can’t speak for her,” Caspar said. “But I can say Caraval is not the only place where people trade secrets for things. Your sister must have bargained away something valuable to learn so much.”
Scarlett’s hands trembled. All this time Tella had been working to save them both. And Scarlett had failed them. She’d tried to wish Tella back, but she must not have loved her enough.
On the other side of the oval window, the world had faded even more. Whatever magic held Caraval together was quickly turning to dust, taking all the buildings and the streets with it. Scarlett watched everything outside disappear as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “Foolish Tella.”
“Personally, I think clever is a more appropriate word.”
Scarlett spun around.
A girl with a devil’s smile and a cherub’s curls.
“Tella? Is that really you?”
“Oh please, I’d think you could come up with something better than that.” Tella’s curls bounced as she glided farther into the room. “And please don’t cry.”
“But I saw you die,” Scarlett sputtered.
“I know, and trust me when I say, plummeting to the ground is not a good way to go.” Tella grinned again, but her death, no matter how short-lived or how fake, still felt too real—too soon—for her to joke about.
“How could you—put me through that?” Scarlett stammered. “How could you pretend to kill yourself while I watched?”
“I think I’ll leave you two alone.” Caspar edged toward the door with a parting look to Scarlett. “Hope there’s no hard feelings about everything. See you at the party?”
“Party?” Scarlett asked.
“Ignore him,” Tella said.
“Stop telling me what to do!” Scarlett lost control then, sobbing once more, the sort of hysterical tears that made her hiccup and sneeze.
“I’m so sorry, Scar.” Tella closed in and gathered Scarlett into a hug. “I didn’t want you to go through that.”
“Then why did you do it?” Scarlett pulled away, hiccupping as she moved so one of the tufted chairs stood between her and her sister. No matter how relieved she was to see Tella alive, she couldn’t shake how it had felt to see her die. To cradle her dead body. To believe she’d never hear her voice again.
“I knew your love could wish me back to life,” said Tella.
“But I didn’t bring you back. Legend never gave me my wish.”
“A wish isn’t something someone can give,” Tella explained. “Legend could give you a little extra magic to help you along, but the wish would only work if you wanted it more than anything.”
“So you’re saying I wished you back to life?” Scarlett still couldn’t fathom it. When she first saw her sister, alive and breathing and irreverently joking, she imagined Tella’s death had somehow been an elaborate trick. But there was no humor in her sister’s expression now. “Tella, what if it had failed?”
“I knew you could do it,” Tella said firmly. “No one loves me as much as you do. You would have leaped from the balcony if Caspar had convinced you it’d protect me.”
“I don’t know about that,” Scarlett muttered.
“I do,” Tella said. “You might not have been able to see me during the game, but I snuck out to watch you a couple of times. Even when you didn’t pass the tests, I knew you would still be able to save me.”
“Tests?” Scarlett asked.
“Legend insisted we put you through a few trials. He promised he could provide a bit of magic, but you had to want the wish enough, or it wouldn’t happen at the end of the game. That’s why the woman in the dress shop asked you what you desired most.”
“But I failed that test.”
“You didn’t fail all of them. You passed the most important one, and that was enough. If you hadn’t, I wasn’t supposed to jump.”
Scarlett remembered what Caspar had said as he made her walk to the edge of the balcony. If you’re not willing to do this, you’ll never be able to save her.
“Please, don’t be mad.” Tella’s heart-shaped mouth pulled into a frown. “I did this for both of us. Like you said, Father would hunt me to the ends of the earth if I ran away.”
“But not if you died,” Scarlett finished.
Tella nodded grimly. “The night we left, I planted a pair of tickets for him, with a note from Legend saying Father could find us at Caraval.”
Scarlett took a shaky breath as she pictured Tella sneaking into their father’s study. Scarlett was still tempted to scold her sister for devising such a dangerous and horrible plot, but for the first time Scarlett could see how much she’d always underestimated Tella. Her younger sister was brighter, smarter, and braver than Scarlett ever gave her
credit for.
“You could have told me,” Scarlett said.
“I wanted to.” Tella cautiously stepped around the chair, until the sisters were face-to-face. She’d changed out of the ruined dress she’d died in; she now wore white—a ghostly shade of it, and Scarlett wondered if she’d chosen the gown for that very reason. As if a little more drama was needed.
“You have no idea how hard it was not to say anything before we left Trisda, and when we were up in that balcony, I was scared to dea—I was nervous. But part of the bargain was I couldn’t say a word. Legend told me it would put too much pressure on you; he said you might fail out of fear. And that blackguard likes his games.” Tella’s expression soured.
Scarlett got the impression this game was also more than Tella had bargained for. Not surprising, given everything Scarlett had learned about Legend.
“So this really had nothing to do with Nana Anna?”
Tella nodded. “They did have a romance. It’s true that it didn’t end well because she chose another man, but Legend never vowed to destroy all the females in her line. After Nana went to the Conquered Isles to marry Grandfather, a rumor started that she’d fled there to hide because Legend wanted revenge, but that’s not entirely true either. I’m fairly certain lots of women have warmed his bed since then.”
Scarlett thought about Rosa, and everything Tella had written in her letters. Even though Legend hadn’t vowed to destroy her nana, it seemed his broken heart had ruined at least one other woman. Scarlett also imagined Legend toyed with her and Tella more than he might have because they were Annalise’s granddaughters.
Caraval Series, Book 1 Page 26
