Caraval Series, Book 1

by Stephanie Garber

  A mixture of pride and some other emotion that Scarlett couldn’t place edged his features. And suddenly she recognized one of his names from her nana’s stories—Santos. “You’re related to Legend?”

  Instead of answering, Julian scanned the celebration before turning back to her. “Will you walk with me?” He reached out a hand.

  Scarlett could still remember kissing his fingers, tasting each one as she pressed them to her lips. A tremor slid across her bare shoulders at the memory. He’d warned her that she should be afraid of his secrets, and now she understood why.

  Refusing his hand, she followed him anyway. Her slippers crushed flower petals as he led her toward a willow tree, parting its sweeping branches so she could step through. Some of the leaves gleamed in the dark, casting gentle green light and sheltering them from the rest of the party.

  “Almost my entire life, I looked up to Legend,” Julian began. “I was like you were, when you started writing him letters. I idolized him. Growing up, I wanted to be Legend. And when I became a performer, I never cared if the lies I told hurt anyone. All I cared about was impressing him. Then came Rosa.” The way he said her name made something tumble uncomfortably inside Scarlett’s chest. She knew Rosa was real, but she’d thought it was Legend who had seduced her.

  “You were the performer who was involved with her?”

  “No,” Julian answered immediately. “I never even met her, but I was telling you the truth when I said I lost faith in everything when she killed herself. After that, I realized Caraval was no longer the game it had once been, meant to give people a harmless adventure, and hopefully make them a little wiser. Legend had changed over the years, and not for the better. He takes on a part of whatever roles he plays, and he’d been playing the role of a villain for so long, he’d become one in real life. Finally, a few months back, I decided to leave, but Legend convinced me to give him another chance and stay.”

  “So you’ve actually met him?” Scarlett asked.

  Julian opened his mouth, as if there was something he wanted to tell her but the words wouldn’t come out. He looked at Scarlett meaningfully. “Remember what you asked me about Legend?”

  “Whether you were related to him?”

  Julian nodded, but didn’t elaborate. The glowing leaves of the willow tree rustled as he quietly went on, “Legend sent me a letter, asking me to play one last game. He claimed he was trying to redeem himself. And I wanted to believe him.”

  Julian took a deep breath before continuing.

  “I was only supposed to bring you and Tella to the isle, but every time I tried to walk away from you, I couldn’t do it. You were different than I expected. Most people only worry about their own pleasure during Caraval. But you cared so much about your sister; it reminded me of the way I had always felt about my own brother.”

  Julian’s caramel eyes met Scarlett’s as he finished. And suddenly a thought struck her.

  “Legend is your brother?” she asked.

  A wry smile curved Julian’s lips. “I was hoping you’d figure it out.”

  “But…” Scarlett stumbled over what to say next as she tried to make sense of it.

  It explained why Julian would have had such a hard time walking away from the game. Scarlett knew how difficult it was to turn away from a sibling, even when they did hurtful things. And the other players had treated Julian differently.

  Ever since learning Caspar had only pretended to be Legend, and that Julian was alive, Scarlett had wondered once more if Julian was actually the master of Caraval. But maybe Scarlett only thought this because the two were closely related.

  “But how is it possible? You’re so young.”

  “I don’t age as long as I’m one of Legend’s performers,” Julian explained. “But I was feeling ready to grow up when I decided to leave.”

  “So then why did you stay and play this time?”

  Julian looked at Scarlett almost nervously, as if she were the one who now had the power to break his heart. “I stayed because I started to care about you. Legend doesn’t always play fair, and I wanted to try to help you. But I knew if we grew close, and you found out the truth, it would hurt you. So at first I tried to give you excuses to hate me. But then it became harder to push you away; it pained me every time I lied to you. This game brings out the most selfish parts of many people, but it had the opposite effect on you. Watching you restored my belief that Caraval could be what I believe it used to be—and that my brother could be good once again.”

  Julian’s voice was thick with emotion. “I know I’ve hurt you, but please just give me another chance.” He looked as if he wanted to reach out and touch her. And a part of Scarlett wanted him to, but it was too much to take in all at once. If Julian had been Legend, it would have been easier to hate him for putting her through so much. But knowing Legend was actually Julian’s brother left her all kinds of torn.

  Before he could reach for her, she pulled away.

  Julian’s mouth pinched at the corners. He was hurt, but he covered it up, bringing his hand to his face to rub the underside of his jaw. Unlike most of the game, he was clean-shaven, younger-looking, except for—

  Scarlett froze.

  When she’d first seen him, she hadn’t noticed the mark her father had made was still there, a thin, jagged scar that ran from his jaw to the corner of his eye. She’d thought that since he could come back to life, the wound would have somehow vanished as well, and it would be as if that awful night had never happened.

  Julian caught her staring and answered her unasked question. “I might not be able to die during the game, but all the injuries I receive throughout Caraval leave scars.”

  “I didn’t know,” Scarlett murmured.

  She’d been nervous about seeing Julian, because she’d feared the game wasn’t as real for him as it had been for her. But perhaps Tella had been right when she’d said, There’s always a bit of real mixed in with everything.

  “I’m so sorry my father did that to you.”

  “I knew the risks I was taking,” answered Julian. “Don’t be sorry, not unless it’s the reason you’re trying so hard to walk away from me.”

  Scarlett’s eyes sought his scar again. Julian had always been handsome to her, but this very real scar down his cheek made him devastating. It reminded her of his bravery and his selflessness, and how he’d made her feel more than anyone else she’d ever met. Maybe he wasn’t exactly the same boy she had thought he was during the game, but he no longer seemed like a stranger. And he’d done it all to help his brother. How could she, of all people, hold something like that against him?

  “If anything, I think this scar is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Julian’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’ll forgive me?”

  Scarlett hesitated. This was her chance to walk away. Tella had said that after tonight if she wanted, they could forget all about Caraval. Scarlett and Tella could start new lives for themselves on another island, or even one of the continents. Scarlett used to fear she couldn’t take care of herself, but now that challenge excited her. She and Tella could do anything they wanted.

  But as Scarlett looked at Julian, she couldn’t deny she still wanted him as well. She remembered all of the reasons she’d first fallen for him. It wasn’t only his handsome face, or the way his smile made her stomach flutter. It was the way he’d pushed her not to give up, and the sacrifices he’d made. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she’d have liked, but she was fairly certain she was still in love with him. She knew she could walk away, but she’d spent enough of her life fearing the risks that accompanied the things she wanted most.

  In answer to his question, Scarlett lifted her hand, slowly bringing her fingers to his cheek. Her skin tingled where it touched his, sending shivers all the way down her arm as she traced the thin line from the edge of his parted lips to the corner of his eyelid. “I forgive you,” she whispered.

  Julian briefly closed his eyes,
brushing the ends of her fingers with his black lashes. “This time, I really promise I won’t lie to you again.”

  “But, don’t you have rules about involvement with people who aren’t a part of Caraval?” Scarlett asked.

  “I’m not really too concerned with rules.” Julian drew a cool finger along her collarbone as he leaned in closer, sliding his free hand around her neck.

  Scarlett’s heart raced faster at the promise of his lips, the feeling of his hands, and the memory of a kiss, so flawless and so reckless.

  Scarlett wasn’t sure who kissed who first. Their lips were almost touching, then Julian’s soft mouth was crushing hers. It tasted like the moment before night gives birth to morning; it was the end of one thing and the beginning of something else all wrapped up together.

  Julian kissed her as if he’d never touched her lips before, sealing the promise he’d just made as he pulled her against his chest, wrapping long fingers in the ribbons of her gown.

  Scarlett reached up and threaded her hands through his satiny hair. In some ways he still felt just as mysterious and unknowable as the first time she met him, but in that moment, none of her questions mattered. She felt as if her story could have ended there, in a tangle of lips and hands, and ribbons of color.

  EPILOGUE

  As the stars leaned a little closer to earth, watching Scarlett and Julian, in the hopes of witnessing a kiss as magical as Caraval, Donatella began to dance beneath of canopy of spying trees, wishing she had someone of her own to kiss.

  She twirled from partner to partner, her slippers barely touching the ground, as if the champagne she’d sipped earlier contained bits of stars that kept her feet floating just above the grass. Tella imagined that in the morning she’d most likely regret having drunk so much, but she enjoyed this sensation of floating—and after everything she’d been through, she needed a night of abandon and forgetting.

  Tella continued eating cakes of liquor and draining crystal goblets full of spiked nectar until her head spun along with the rest of her body. She practically fell into the arms of her newest partner. He pulled her closer than the others had. His large hands snaked determinedly around her, bringing with them a new surge of pleasure. Tella liked the confident way he touched her. As he tugged her toward the edge of the party and farther from the crowd, she imagined feeling his hands on places besides her waist. Maybe he could help her take her mind off all of the things she’d been too afraid to share with her sister.

  Tilting her head back, Tella smiled up. But the night had grown dark, and her vision was blurry. He didn’t look like any of the Caraval performers she knew. When her partner leaned closer, all Tella could see was a shadowy smirk as his hands trailed down. She sucked in a breath when his fingers dug into the folds of her dress, touching her hip bones as he …

  disappeared.

  It happened so rapidly, Tella stumbled back.

  One moment the young man had his arms around her, drawing her close as if he might kiss her. Then he was walking away. He moved so fast, it made Tella wish she’d not drunk so much. Before she made it more than two steps, he vanished into the crowd, leaving her cold and alone and—with something rather heavy in her pocket.

  A chill swept over Tella’s naked shoulders. Her head might have been spinning, but she knew the item weighing down her skirts had not been there before. For a moment she tried to entertain the thought of it being some kind of key—perhaps her stranger was hoping she might follow him back to his room for that kiss they never shared. But if that’s what he wanted, Tella didn’t imagine he would have run off so quickly.

  “I think I need another glass of champagne.” Tella mumbled the words to no one in particular as she edged away from the crowd. Aside from being wrapped in paper, she could not tell what the object in her pocket was, though she had a prickly feeling it was meant for her eyes alone.

  Music from the party faded as she edged toward a secluded tree, lit by hanging candles that flickered white-blue light as she reached into her pocket.

  The object she pulled out fit inside the palm of her hand. Someone had wrapped a note around a thick coin. But it didn’t look like any currency Tella had ever seen. Tella shoved the coin back in her pocket after unwrapping the note.

  The handwriting on it was crisp and precise.

  * * *

  Dearest Donatella,

  Congratulations on escaping your father and surviving Caraval. I am pleased our plan worked, although I had no doubts you would survive the game.

  I’m sure your mother will be quite proud, and I believe you should be able to see her soon. But first you must keep up your end of our bargain. I hope you haven’t forgotten what you owe me in exchange for all that I’ve shared with you.

  I plan on collecting my payment very soon.

  Truly yours,

  A friend

  * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you, God, for being faithful when I was faithless, for your love, and for every miracle that made this book possible.

  When I started writing I had no idea how long and difficult my journey to publication would be. Caraval was not the first book I’d written, or the second, or the third, or the fourth, or the fifth. Before I finished this book, I’d been confronted with every reason to give up on writing. Thankfully, and in huge part because of everyone I’m about to mention, that did not happen.

  A very special thank-you to my parents, who helped support me and allowed me to live with them so I could finish this book. An even larger thank-you because both of you believed in all the unpublished books that came before this. Mom and Dad, I love you so much!

  Thank you to my amazing-wonderful-fantastic-fearless agent, Jenny Bent, for all your good advice, for working so hard to get this book in shape, and for finding it so many wonderful homes. I’ve learned so much from you—and I think you’re fun.

  Sarah Dotts Barley, my gratitude for you knows no bounds. Thank you for being such an extraordinary editor and champion of this book. It is a constant joy to work with you. I am so thrilled you fell in love with this story and that you showed me how to take this book to the places I could not have brought it on my own. It’s been wonderful to work with you!

  Thank you, Amy Einhorn and Bob Miller, my brilliant publishers; I’m so honored that Caraval is on Flatiron’s list. Amy, thank you for all the extra work you put into this book, especially while Sarah was on maternity leave. I also want to thank Caroline Bleeke, for stepping in to help, and for always being so delightful.

  I am incredibly thankful for everyone at Macmillan who has put an imprint on this book. Thank you, David Lott, Donna Noetzel, Liz Catalano, Vincent Stanley, Brenna Franzitta, Marlena Bittner, Patricia Cave, Liz Keenan, and Molly Fonseca.

  Erin Fitzsimmons and Ray Shappell, thank you for the magic you’ve added to this book with your gorgeous cover designs and illustrations. And thank you, Rhys Davies, for bringing my make-believe world to life with your amazing map of Caraval.

  Thank you, Pouya Shahbazian, my fantastic film representative, for finding Caraval an extraordinary home at Twentieth Century Fox. Thank you, Kira Goldberg, for loving Caraval enough to give it a home at Twentieth Century Fox—I’m so glad my book found its way into your hands. Thank you, Nina Jacobson, for believing in this book enough to produce it. And thank you, Karl Austen, for stepping in on such short notice to help make the most exciting day of my life even more amazing.

  Thank you to everyone at the phenomenal Bent Agency, with special thanks to Victoria Lowes, for answering my many questions, and for doing a million things that I’m sure I’m unaware of. Molly Ker Hawn, thank you so much for finding such a wonderful home for this book in the UK.

  I continue to be filled with gratitude and amazement that Caraval is also going to be published across the globe. A tremendous thank-you to all my amazing foreign coagents, scouts, and foreign publishers—Novo Conceito (Brazil), BARD (Bulgaria), Booky (China), Egmont (Czech Republic), Bayard (France), WSOY (Finland
), Piper (Germany), Libri (Hungary), Noura (Indonesia), Miskal (Israel), RCS Libri (Italy), Kino Books (Japan), Sam & Parkers (Korea), Luitingh-Sijthoff (The Netherlands), Aschehoug (Norway), Znak (Poland), Presenca (Portugal), Editura RAO (Romania), Atticus-Azbooka (Russia), Planeta (Spain), Faces (Taiwan), Dogan-Egmont (Turkey), Hodder & Stoughton (United Kingdom & Commonwealth)—thank you all for investing in this book and making all of this wonder possible.

  At its heart Caraval is a book about sisters, and I could never have written it if I didn’t have such an incredible sister. Allison Moores, thank you for being my best friend and for always believing that someday I would be published, no matter how impossible it looked, or how often I lost faith.

  Matthew Garber, my generous brother, I’ve always looked up to you, and I am so thankful for all the brilliant advice you gave me when I was making so many difficult decisions regarding this book. You were there so many times when there was no one else I could talk to, and you always knew just what to say.

  Matt Moores, my patient brother-in-law, thank you for taking such lovely author photos and designing my fantastic Web site. (Richard L. Press, thank you for letting me use your bookstore.)

  Stacey Lee, my dear friend and amazing critique partner. I think we were always meant to be friends. Thank you for helping me figure out what to do with this concept, for reading my rough draft in less than twenty-four hours, for talking me through revisions on the phone, and for being there through every wild up and down.

  I also want to thank my other amazing critique partners and early readers. Mónica Bustamante Wagner, thank you for your willingness to read this book over and over, and for making me work so hard on that query letter. Elizabeth Briggs, thank you for everything you’ve taught me about writing. I am so grateful Pitch Wars brought us together. Thank you, Amanda Roelofs, for always reading all my first drafts, and putting up with all my questions. Jessica Taylor, thank you for being there when things were horrible, and for your excitement when I first told you about this very vague concept. Julie Dao, thank you for lending me your eyes when I needed a fresh pair to read this book. And a special thanks to Anita Mumm, Ida Olsen, and Amy Lipsky, for all of your invaluable feedback.