Caraval (Caraval 1)

Julian jumped up before Scarlett could move. Hide, he mouthed.

/> No. She’d done enough hiding already that day. Ignoring his angry looks, Scarlett grabbed the fireplace poker and followed him as he crept toward the door.

“I have a delivery,” said a feminine voice.

“For who?” asked Julian.

“It’s for the sister of Donatella Dragna.”

Scarlett gripped the poker tighter, her heart hitting an extra beat.

Tell her to leave it at the door, Scarlett mouthed. She wanted to hope it was a clue. But all she kept thinking of was Dante’s severed hand. With a shudder, she imagined Legend chopping off Tella’s hand and delivering it to her room.

After the messenger girl’s footsteps faded, she let Julian open the door.

The box on the other side was flat black, the color of failure and funerals. It stretched in front of her doorway, long, and almost as wide across as Scarlett. Next to it rested a vase with two red roses.

More flowers!

Scarlett kicked over the vase, spilling the flowers across the threshold of her room before pulling the box inside. She couldn’t tell if it felt heavy or light.

“You want me to open it?” Julian asked.

Scarlett shook her head. She didn’t want to open the black box either, but every second she wasted was a second they could be searching for Tella. Carefully she lifted the lid.

“What is that?” Julian’s brows formed a sharp V.

“It’s my other dress from the shop.” Scarlett released a relieved laugh as she pulled the gown from the box. The girl had said it would be delivered in two days.

But something about the dress was off. It looked different from how Scarlett remembered. The color was much lighter, almost pure white—wedding-gown white.

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The dress seemed to mock her. With sleeves that were nonexistent, and a deep, heart-shaped neckline that looked far from sweet, this piece of clothing was more scandalous than the one Scarlett had chosen in the shop.

The creamy buttons gleamed like ivory in the room’s warm light. At the bottom of the box Scarlett found a small note, attached to a broken pin. “It must have fallen off the gown.”

On one side was the image of a top hat, on the other a brief message:

* * *

I imagine this will look lovely on you.

Warm regards,

—D

* * *

“Who’s ‘D’?” Julian asked.

“I think someone wants me to believe it’s from Donatella.” But Scarlett knew this gift was not from her sister. The mockery of a wedding gown could only be from one person, and the top hat on the note could only mean one thing. Legend.

Invisible spiders crawled over her skin, such a different feeling from the bright colors his first letter had summoned. “I think this is the fifth clue.”

Julian grimaced. “Why would you think that?”

“What else would it be?” Scarlett said. She pulled out her note with all the clues.