Caraval (Caraval 1)

Julian stepped in and drew a bit of it back.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to touch those,” Scarlett said.

“Or maybe that’s the reason they shut when we walked in, because they want us to open them.” He pulled the curtain back wider.

Scarlett was certain he was breaking some sort of rule, yet she couldn’t help but lean closer and marvel at the unbelievable realm resting at least ten stories below. It resembled the cobbled streets Scarlett and Julian had just ventured through, only this hamlet was not abandoned: it looked like a storybook come to life. She peered down at bright pointy rooftops, moss-covered towers, gingerbread cottages, gleaming gold bridges, blue-brick streets, and bubbling fountains, all lit by candled lamps that hung everywhere, giving an appearance of time that was neither day nor night.

It was about the same size as her village on Trisda, but it felt spectacularly bigger, the way a word feels bigger with an exclamation point tacked onto it. The roads looked so alive, Scarlett swore they were moving. “I don’t understand how they fit an entire world inside here.”

“It’s just a very elaborate theater.” Julian’s tone was dry as his eyes cut from the scene below up to the dozens of different balconies, all overlooking the same curious sight.

Scarlett hadn’t realized it before, but Julian was right. The balconies formed a circle—an enormous circle. Her spirits took a significant dip. Sometimes it took her an entire day to track down Tella on their father’s estate. How would she ever find Tella here?

“Take it in while you can,” Julian said. “It will make it easier to get around on the ground. After this, there will be no coming back up here unless—”

“Ahem.” From the back of the balcony someone cleared his throat. “You need to step away and shut those curtains.”

Scarlett turned immediately, briefly terrified they’d be kicked out for breaking a rule, but Julian took his time letting go of the drape.

“And who are you?” Julian stared down the intruder, as if this new young gentleman were the one who’d just done something wrong.

“You can call me Rupert.” He looked at Julian with equal disdain, as if he knew Julian wasn’t supposed to be there. Pompously, the man straightened his top hat. Without it he probably would have been shorter than Scarlett.

At first glance he had looked like a gentleman, in his crisp gray pants and a suit coat with tails, but as he stepped closer Scarlett realized he was merely a boy, dressed up like a man, with cheeks that still had baby fat and limbs that didn’t look as if they’d finished growing, despite how he dressed them up in fancy clothes. Scarlett wondered if his costume was homage to Legend, who was known for his top hats and finery.

“I’m here to go over the rules and answer any questions before you officially begin the game.” Without any flourishes, Rupert repeated the same speech given by the girl on the unicycle.

Scarlett just wanted to be let in. Knowing Tella, she’d already fallen in love with some new form of trouble.

Julian nudged her in the ribs. “You need to listen.”

“We’ve already heard this.”

“Are you certain?” Julian whispered.

“Once inside, you will be presented with a mystery that must be solved,” said Rupert. “Clues will be hidden throughout the game to help you on your way. We want you to get swept away, but be careful of being swept too far away,” repeated Rupert.

“What happens if someone does get swept too far away?” asked Scarlett.

“That’s usually when people die or go mad,” Rupert answered, so calmly she wondered if she’d misheard him. With equal composure, he took off his top hat and pulled out two pieces of parchment. He held out the creamy papers for Scarlett and Julian, as if for them to read, but the script was impossibly small.

“I’ll need one drop of blood at the bottom of each,” said Rupert.

“For what?” asked Scarlett.

“These confirm you’ve heard the rules, twice, and that neither the Caraval Estate nor Master Legend is responsible in the event of any untimely accidents, madness, or death.”

“But you said nothing that happens inside is real,” Scarlett argued.

“Occasionally people confuse fantasy with reality. Accidents sometimes result. It rarely happens,” Rupert added. “If you’re worried, you don’t have to play. You may always simply observe.” He looked almost bored as he finished, making Scarlett feel as if she were fretting over nothing.

If Tella were there, Scarlett could imagine her saying, You’re only staying one day. If you sit and watch, you’ll regret it.

But the idea of a contract sealed in blood did not sit well with Scarlett.

Though if Tella was playing and Scarlett chose not to, maybe she’d be unable to find her, making it impossible to leave the next day and get home in time to marry the count. Despite Rupert’s instructions, Scarlett was still a bit unsure as to the particulars of the game. She had tried to learn everything she could from her grandmother, but the woman had always been vague. Rather than actual facts, she’d given Scarlett romantic impressions that were beginning to feel a bit off. Pictures painted by a woman who saw the past as she wished it had been rather than as it actually was.

Scarlett looked at Julian. Without hesitation he let Rupert prick his finger with some sort of thorn and pressed the bloody tip to the bottom of one contract.