Finale (Caraval 3)

Balling up her note and tossing it in the trash, Scarlett looked at his letter once again. She couldn’t give him her hand in marriage, but she could give him this final meeting. She owed that much to him.

22

Donatella

Valenda was a city that had been made for the night.

As Tella took a sky carriage back to the palace, the world below her glittered with light. The churches and sanctuaries of the Temple District glowed like bits of moon that had lost their way, while the dimmer lights in the Spice Quarter smoldered like ashes from a fire that refused to die. Then there were the sleeping houses in between the districts, illuminated by guardian lampposts, giving an illusion of safety as people slumbered in their beds.

No one knew how fragile their security was, and Tella wondered if more Fates were waking up now. She probably should have asked Jacks about it before she’d left him. But the Prince of Hearts had looked as if he’d wanted to collect a higher fee for more information.

Tella’s coach came to a gentle halt as it reached the palace carriage house. Mindful of her gown’s ripped hem, she exited carefully.

The air tasted candied, the world glittered, and the stars looked close enough to steal and place inside of her pockets, making Tella feel as if she were inside of one of Legend’s dreams, or back in Caraval. Though the sun had set, servants were still bustling about the palace grounds in preparation for tomorrow’s Midnight Maze. Night dust, which made whatever it touched shimmer under the light of the nearby stars, filled buckets that servants carried around so they could brush everything from the hedges and the fountains lining the walkways to the bunnies that hopped through the gardens.

Most of the palace’s staff didn’t pay much attention to Tella, but she swore a few looked her way with narrowed eyes before turning to each other and whispering things about her.

She knew it was a bad idea to stop and listen—gossip rarely contained compliments. And yet Tella found herself following a pair of chattering servants to the Stone Garden. She ducked behind a female statue on the edge of the garden, with a billowing skirt that created the perfect place for Tella to hide behind as the servants brushed the other statues with more glowing night dust.

“Did you see her?” The first girl’s voice was light and chirping, like a bird’s. Tella had heard it before, her very first night in the palace, when she’d come to Valenda for the last Caraval and Dante had told the staff that she was engaged to Jacks. She hadn’t been that angry until she’d overheard this birdy servant talking about the engagement, or rather about Jacks, and how he was a rumored murderer. They hadn’t known he was actually the Prince of Hearts, and at the time, neither had Legend.

“I thought she was the former heir’s fiancé,” replied a second servant. Tella didn’t recognize her voice. But she decided she didn’t like it when she heard the breathless way she said, “I would think His Handsomeness Prince Dante wouldn’t want her around.”

“Oh, His Handsomeness definitely doesn’t want her around,” said the birdy girl. “I think the little trollop is just hoping to make Prince Dante her new fiancé now that her former fiancé isn’t royal anymore. But everyone—except for her—knows that’s not going to happen. The prince is probably just keeping her around because she used to belong to the former heir, and to keep her in his possession is another show of his power.”

That’s not true! Tella wanted to jump out from behind her statue to protest.

But

maybe it was just a little true. Legend was jealous of Jacks. And according to Mistress Luck, when immortals were attracted to humans, they only felt obsession, fixation, lust, and possession.

“I heard,” said the birdy girl, “he actually had her locked in the dungeons this morning!”

“Whatever for?” gasped the second girl.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want her around,” said Legend, the low sound of his voice filling the entire stone garden.

Suddenly, Tella couldn’t have peeled herself away from her hiding spot if she’d tried. Moments ago, the world had been full of night dust and stars, but now he’d taken over.

The confident scrape of Legend’s boots echoed across the garden and Tella pictured him moving closer, covering the frozen servants in shadows, as he said, “I want her here. If it were up to me, I’d keep her here forever. I asked her to marry me and she said no. That’s why I locked her up. It was an inappropriate response, but sometimes I take things a little too far.”

He paused, and she could picture him flashing a dissolute smile. “You two should keep that in mind the next time you decide to spread rumors, or you might find yourselves in a prison as well.”

“We won’t start any more rumors.”

“We’re so sorry, Your Highness.”

There was a rush of sloppy slippers as if the servants were giving hasty curtsies, and then fleeing the stone garden, probably leaving a trail of glimmering night dust as they scurried off.

“You can come out now, Tella.” Legend’s voice took a teasing turn as he leaned an elbow on the statue that she was behind. Still dressed in the same black-and-wolf-gray suit as earlier, with a matching black half-cape slung over his shoulders, he looked both rakish and regal as he watched her rise from her crouch.

If this had been one of their dreams, when Tella and Legend were still pretending not to care, she might have rolled her eyes up at him, giving him a response that was the opposite of how she felt. But she sensed that game was now over. And yet she still couldn’t be entirely vulnerable and tell him just how much what he’d said had turned her inside out. He’d lied, making himself look like an unhinged princeling in order to keep her reputation from being ruined.

“I think you scared those servants half to death,” Tella said. “But you know they’ll still repeat everything you just told them.”

“I don’t care what anyone says, as long as they’re saying things about me.” His tone was that of a shallow royal, but the look in his eyes was deep and all-consuming. His steady gaze held hers as if he had no intention of ever looking away—as if just maybe he’d been telling the truth when he’d said that he wanted to keep her here forever.

Her neck flushed with heat that spread across her collarbone.