Tella had hoped this would be one of those occasions where her sister would choose to ignore the subject of their mother. But it’s rather difficult to ignore someone when they’re lying in the room looking cursed. Scarlett had questioned Tella relentlessly, until she’d confessed everything.
Scarlett had not handled most of it well, especially the bit about Tella taking their mother’s place inside of a card. After begging Tella never to risk something like that again, Scarlett had turned her anger on their mother; she couldn’t look at Paloma without scowling.
Tella couldn’t blame her sister. Underneath all the anger, Tella detected that Scarlett harbored a fair amount of guilt for being unaware of so many of the things that went on during Caraval, and that the game was very real this time. Though none of it was Scarlett’s fault. And surprisingly, Tella couldn’t bring herself to regret anything she’d done. Though she wished she hadn’t fallen so far for Legend, which thankfully her sister wasn’t mentioning.
Tella was curious to know if Julian had told Scarlett that Dante was Legend, since his identity seemed to be the one thing Tella was physically incapable of talking about. Scarlett had shared with Tella that she was giving Julian another chance. Sensitive to Tella’s current feelings about Legend and Caraval, Scarlett had not gone into too many details about it. But Tella imagined her sister wouldn’t have completely forgiven Julian unless he gave her more than a few smoldering looks and kisses, which made Tella suspect her sister was more aware of Legend’s true identity than she’d let on the night before.
“What if we play a game,” Tella suggested. “Do you have a deck of regular cards?” She opened the drawer of the nightstand next to Scarlett’s bed.
“Don’t!” Scarlett leaped up.
If she hadn’t reacted so strongly, Tella might have shut the drawer without looking too hard. But the minute Scarlett shouted, Tella’s interest intensified.
There was a book inside the drawer, a fancy red leather thing, with an equally fine-looking letter poking out from beneath it.
“What’s this?” Tella plucked the note from under the book. It was addressed to Scarlett. Tella didn’t recognize the return address but she was familiar with the name above it: Count Nicolas d’Arcy.
Tella sat there, speechless, because she didn’t think shouting was a good idea.
Scarlett’s entire face was pink. “I can explain.”
“I thought you were giving Julian another chance.”
“I am. But I’m giving Nicolas a chance as well.”
“Nicolas? You’re now on a first-name basis with your former fiancé?” Tella desperately hoped her sister was joking, paying Tella back for all the secrets that she’d kept. Though if this was all true, the strained looks Scarlett and Jacks had shared in the garden now made sense. “Is this the person you asked Jacks to help you find?”
“Jacks told you I asked for his help?” Scarlett sounded surprised, as if she actually trusted the Prince of Hearts.
“I saw you step out of the same carriage as him the other night,” Tella said.
Scarlett brought her hands to her cheeks, covering her increasing blush. “I found him after you told me he’d been able to locate our mother. I’d been searching for Nicolas on my own, but I’d had no luck. And going to Jacks for help gave me an excuse to interrogate him about his intentions with you. Not that he was honest about anything.”
“I don’t think either of us can criticize anyone for being dishonest,” Tella snapped.
“I planned to tell you about Nicolas, but I was waiting for the right time.” Scarlett shot a look at their mother, a silent reminder that Scarlett was not the only one with secrets. “I wouldn’t have kept this from you, but I know you never liked him.”
“I still don’t. Exchanging letters with him is a mistake.”
“Don’t worry,” Scarlett said. “I’m not planning on marrying him. But I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention that to Julian. I think a little rivalry might be good for him.”
“So that’s what this is about?” Tella was more than a little stunned. “You want a competition between the count and Julian?”
“I wouldn’t call it a competition,” Scarlett said. “I don’t plan on giving either of them tasks to complete. But how can I truly know Julian is right for me if I have no one else to compare him to? I thought you’d be proud of me. You’re the one who always wanted me to make my own decisions.” Scarlett grinned, as sly as a cat who’d just learned to sneak out of a house and explore the world beyond.
Tella always thought her sister had underestimated her—but maybe she was the one who had underestimated Scarlett.
Tella still didn’t like the idea of the count. Even though she no longer trusted what the Aracle had shown her, she had a horrible feeling when it came to Count Nicolas d’Arcy. His letters had always seemed a little too perfect. He was the dictionary definition of a gentleman; no one was that polished in real life. Either he was terribly dull or a fraud. And yet, despite her reservations, Tella was proud of her sister for making such a bold choice. “Scarlett, I—”
Bells. Long and low and sorrowful bells rang across the palace.
Tella shuddered at the tragic sound, instantly forgetting whatever she’d been saying as the bells continued to cry. These were not clocks striking the hour. These were mourning bells, wailing out a song of loss.
In the bed, Tella’s mother stirred. She didn’t wake from her cursed slumber, but the bells had clearly disturbed her. In between the somber tune Tella heard a flurry of activity in the hall. Rushing footsteps. Chattering voices. More than a few unbridled sobs. And she knew.
Empress Elantine had died.
Tella had only met the empress twice, but she felt a surprising surge of emotion at the thought of her life ending, of her body going slack and her eyes closing forever.