Caraval (Caraval 1)

“Good-bye,” Scarlett said as curtly as he’d spoken to her, and without another word she swept into her room.

A fire was already lit in the hearth, warm and glowing, throwing shades of copper against walls covered in flowered wallpaper—roses, white with ruby tips, in various states of bloom. The wood crackled as it burned, a soft lullaby that pulled her toward a massive canopy bed, the most enormous one Scarlett had ever seen. It must have been why the room was considered special. Sheltered by gauzy drapes of white that hung from carved wooden posts, the bed was covered in silk pillows made of fluff and thickly quilted blankets, tied with rich currant-red bows. She couldn’t wait to fall on the bed’s downy mattress and—

The wall moved.

Scarlett froze. The room grew suddenly hotter and smaller.

For a moment she hoped it was a trick of her imagination.

“No,” she said, watching as Julian strode through a narrow door, next to the wardrobe, which until that moment had been camouflaged by the room’s papered wall.

“How did you get in here?” she asked. Though even before he answered, Scarlett knew exactly what had happened.

The wink. The keys. The special arrangements. “She gave us the same room on purpose!”

“You did a very good job convincing her we’re in love.” Julian’s eyes cut to the lavish bed.

Scarlett’s cheeks blazed with red, the color of hearts and blood and shame. “I didn’t say we were in love—I only said we’re engaged.”

Julian laughed but Scarlett was aghast. “This isn’t funny. We can’t sleep in here together. If anyone finds out, I’ll be utterly ruined.”

“There you go being dramatic again. You think everything is going to destroy your life.”

But if anyone found out, it would destroy her engagement to the count. “You met my father. If he ever discovered I—”

“No one will find out. I imagine that’s why there are two doors with different numbers.” Julian crossed over to the enormous bed and threw himself on top of it.

“You can’t sleep on that bed,” Scarlett protested.

“Why not? It’s very comfortable.” Julian pulled off his boots, dropping them to the floor with loud thumps. Then he took off his waistcoat and went for the buttons of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Scarlett said. “You can’t do that.”

“Listen, Crimson.” Julian stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “I told you I won’t touch you, and I promise to keep my word. But I am not sleeping on the floor or on that tiny lounge just because you’re a girl. This bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“You really think I’d get in a bed with you? Are you mad?” A ridiculous question, because clearly he was. He continued to unbutton his shirt, and s

he was certain he did so only because he knew it made her uncomfortable. Or maybe he just liked showing off.

Scarlett got another glimpse of his smooth muscles as she pivoted for the door. “I’m going back down to see if she has another room.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Julian called.

“Then I’ll sleep in the hall.”

A gentleman would have protested, but Julian was not a gentleman. Something soft hit the floor. Most likely his shirt.

Scarlett reached for the glass doorknob.

“Hold on—”

A square lined with gold landed at her feet. An envelope. Her name written across the front in an elegant script.

“Found that on the bed. I’m imagining it’s your first clue.”

12

Scarlett’s nana used to say the world of Caraval was Master Legend’s great playground. No words were spoken that he didn’t hear. Not even a whisper could escape his ears, no shadow went unseen by his eyes. No one ever saw Legend—or if they did, they didn’t know it was him—but Legend saw all during Caraval.