Finale (Caraval 3)

Scarlett pulled open the main door to her suite, ready to call for a servant and ask her to keep an eye on their mother. But one of the maids was already there, coral-cheeked and smiling broadly.

“Afternoon, miss.” The servant did a quick half-curtsy. “I came to tell you there’s a gentleman waiting for you in the first-floor parlor.”

Scarlett looked past the servant’s shoulders. She could see the scratched wood banister, but there was no view of anything downstairs. “Did the gentleman give a name?”

“He said he wanted to surprise you. He’s very handsome.” The girl coyly twirled a lock of hair around her finger, as if this attractive young man was standing in front of them.

Scarlett hesitated, considering her options. Perhaps it was Nicolas, come to surprise her. But that didn’t sound like him. He was so proper, he hadn’t wanted to meet her while the Days of Mourning were being observed; he’d asked her to wait until today for their true courtship to begin.

There was one other person who it might be, but Scarlett didn’t want to hope

it was him, especially not today. She’d vowed not to think about him today. And if it was Julian, he was five weeks late. Scarlett might have thought he’d died, except she’d had Tella ask Legend about it, and he’d confirmed Julian was still alive. Though he didn’t say where his brother was, or why he’d failed to contact Scarlett.

“Would you do me a favor?” Scarlett said to the servant. “My mother is still unwell. She doesn’t need anything, but I hate to leave her alone. While I’m out, would you check on her every half hour in case she wakes?”

Scarlett handed the girl a coin. Then she quietly crept down the stairs, heart in her throat, hoping despite her better judgment that Julian had finally returned and had missed her as much as she missed him. She kept her steps quiet, but the moment she entered the parlor, she forgot how to move. Julian’s eyes met hers from across the room.

Everything was suddenly warmer than it had been before. The parlor walls grew smaller and hotter, as if too much sunlight had snuck in through the windows, covering all the tattered bookshelves and chairs in the sort of hazy afternoon light that left the entire world out of focus, except for him.

He looked perfect.

Scarlett could have easily been convinced he’d just escaped from a fresh painting. The tips of his dark hair were wet, his amber eyes were shining, and his lips parted in a devastating smile.

This was the boy of Scarlett’s dreams.

Of course, Julian probably starred in the dreams of half the girls on the continent as well.

All of her earlier feelings from before transformed into flames of fiery tangerine. Julian couldn’t see her colors, but Scarlett didn’t want to reveal her feelings with other tells. She didn’t want her knees growing weak, or her cheeks turning to blush. And yet she couldn’t stop her heart from racing at the sight of him, as if she were preparing to chase him should he run away. Which he had.

He must have been somewhere even warmer than here. His unusually crisp shirtsleeves were neatly rolled up, showing off lean arms. One forearm had a wide white bandage on it that contrasted with his skin, which was several shades darker than his natural golden brown, tanned from wherever Legend had sent him last. The neatly trimmed stubble lining his jaw was thicker and longer than she remembered as well, and covered part of the thin scar that ran from his eye to his jaw. He didn’t wear a coat, but he had on a gray vest with shiny silver buttons that matched the lines of fancy thread on the sides of his deep blue trousers, which were tucked into brand-new leather boots. When she’d first met Julian, he’d looked like a scoundrel, but now he was pure gentleman.

“Hello, Crimson.”

Her dress reacted immediately. Scarlett willed it not to shift and betray any of her feelings, but the gown had always liked Julian. The first time she’d put on the dress, back on Legend’s isle, she’d been embarrassed to undress in front of Julian, and a little disappointed because the dress had looked like a dreary rag. Then she’d put it on, and when she turned and looked at Julian, the gown had transformed into a confection of lace and seductive colors, as if it had somehow known that this was the boy whose heart she needed to win.

Scarlett couldn’t see her reflection now, but she could feel the gown shifting. Warm air brushed her décolletage as the dress’s neckline lowered. The skirt tightened to hug the curve of her hips, and the fabric’s color deepened to the ravenous pink of lips longing to be kissed.

Julian’s grin turned wolfish, reminding her of the night he’d first whisked her off her home isle of Trisda. But despite the hungry look in his eyes, he made no move to close the space between them. His elbow rested against a cracked display case as a fresh ray of sunlight streamed through the window, gilding all his edges in gold and making him look even more untouchable.

Scarlett wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him, but she didn’t move from the doorway. “When did you return?” she asked coolly.

“A week ago.”

And you’re only visiting now? Scarlett wanted to ask. But she reminded herself that she was the one who’d first put a wedge between them when she’d told him she wanted to meet her former fiancé.

Julian had said he understood, had said he wanted her to do whatever she needed. But then he’d been sent away on another errand from Legend.

I won’t be able to write, but it will only take one week, he’d promised.

One week had turned into two, then three, then four, then five weeks without so much as a note from him to say he was still alive. She wasn’t sure if it was because he’d given up on her or if he’d forgotten about her because he was so busy working for Legend.

Julian pulled at the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable, bringing Scarlett’s attention back to the bandage wrapped around his arm.

“Were you wounded?” Was that why he hadn’t come by? “What happened to your arm?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

But Scarlett would have sworn he blushed. She didn’t even know Julian was capable of blushing. He had no shame. He moved through the world with utter confidence. But his cheeks were definitely flushed, and his eyes refused to meet hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner.”