Caraval (Caraval 1)

Scarlett inched away, but Julian’s hand remained against her spine, keeping her close as he turned to the innkeeper. She bustled behind the large olive-green desk that took up most of the low-ceilinged room.

“And thank you,” said Julian. “I appreciate the kindness you’ve shown us tonight.”

“Oh, it wasn’t really a problem,” said the innkeeper, though Scarlett swore she was still shaken. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted her stocking cap. “Like I told your fiancée, I hate to break up couples. I actually have special arrangements for you two.”

The innkeeper rummaged back through her desk before producing two glass keys, one etched with a number eight, and the other with a nine. “Easy to find, just go up the stairs to your left.” She winked as she handed them the keys.

Scarlett hoped the wink was just a tic. She had never been overly fond of them. Her father liked to wink, usually after he’d done something nasty. Scarlett didn’t imagine this plump innkeeper had done anything nefarious to their rooms, but the little glass keys paired with the odd little gesture left Scarlett with an icy-blue nervous hum.

It was probably just in her head, she told herself. Maybe the keys were part of the game as well. Perhaps they unlocked something other than rooms eight and nine and that was what she’d meant by “special arrangements.”

Or perchance they just had a rather good view of the canals.

The innkeeper explained that each hall had a water closet and a tub room for washing. “To your right is the Glass Tavern, closes one hour after sunrise, opens one hour before sunset.”

Inside the barroom, jade light fell from emerald chandeliers, hanging over tables of glass that clinked with goblets and the crush of dull chatter. It smelled of stale beer and staler conversation. It was about to close for the day. Only a handful of patrons remained, all of them with different colorings and features, which made it seem they’d come from across the continents. None of them had curly blond hair.

“I’m sure you’ll find her tomorrow,” said Julian.

“Or maybe she’s already in her room?” Scarlett turned back to the innkeeper. “Would you be able to tell us if a young lady named Donatella Dragna is staying here?”

The innkeeper hesitated. Scarlett swore she recognized the name.

“I’m sorry, dearies, I can’t tell you who else is staying here.”

“But it’s my sister.”

“I still can’t help.” The woman divided a slightly panicked look between Julian and Scarlett. “Rules of the game. If she’s here, you’ll have to find her on your own.”

“Can’t you—”

Julian’s hand pressed against Scarlett’s back, then his lips were at her ear again. “She’s already done us one favor tonight,” he warned.

“But—” Scarlett started to argue, yet Julian’s expression stopped her. Something in it went beyond caution and looked much closer to fear.

Dark hair fell over his eyes as he leaned near to her once more and whispered, “I know you want to find your sister, but on this isle secrets are valuable. Be careful about giving yours away too freely. If people know what you want the most, it can be used against you.

“Come on.” He started toward the stairs.

Scarlett knew it was dawn, but the crooked halls of La Serpiente smelled like the end of the night, sweat and fading fire smoke mixed with lingering breath from words whose ghosts still haunted the air. The doors didn’t seem to be in any particular order. Room two was on the second floor, while room one was on floor three. Room five’s teal door came after eleven’s raspberry entry.

The halls of the fourth floor were all covered in velvet paper striped with thick lines of black and cream. Scarlett and Julian finally found their rooms, in the middle of the hall. Neighbors to each other.

Scarlett hesitated in front of the rounded door to room eight, while Julian waited for her to go inside.

It felt as if they’d spent more than just one day together. The sailor had not been a horrible companion. Scarlett knew she might not have made it this far without his help.

“I was thinking,” she started, “tomorrow—”

“If I see your sister, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.” Julian’s tone was polite, but it was clearly a dismissal.

So that was it.

She shouldn’t have been surprised or upset that this was the end of their partnership. Julian had claimed he would help her out, but she’d learned enough of him to know that if he wanted something, he said whatever needed to be said to get it. She didn’t know when she started expecting more. Or why.

She recalled what he’d told her in the clock shop, about how she thought too highly of him if she believed he cared for her sister. He used people. His use of her had been mutually beneficial, but he’d used her all the same. She remembered her first impression of him, tall, roughly handsome, and dangerous, like poison dressed up in an attractive bottle.

It was better for her to stay away from him. Safer. He might have helped her today, but she couldn’t drop her guard; he was clearly here for his own purposes. And after she found her sister the next night, she wouldn’t be alone, or staying much longer.