Finale (Caraval 3)

She still hadn’t wrapped her head around having a child, or that she’d visit this market again in the future, which made her think she’d survive all of this. But she hated to think this was the only way.

“You still haven’t told us who the father is,” Legend said, leaning a broad shoulder carelessly against a tent pole. But Tella swore she saw a muscle pulse in his jaw.

“We do not have permission to share that information,” said the older sister, “and it’s not good to know too much about the future.”

Tella agreed. The Aracle card that had shown her glimpses of the future had almost gotten her killed. And yet she couldn’t hold back from asking, “Can’t you just tell me if he’s the father?”

“Who else would be the father?” Legend growled.

“Don’t get upset with me!” Tella snapped. “You asked the question first.” And you don’t love me, said her eyes.

His eyes flashed with gold, and then suddenly he was inside the tent and right in front of her, looking down at her with the handsome face she’d feared she would never see again. “I asked you to become immortal.” One hand wrapped around her waist, warm and strong and solid, while his other hand found the back of her neck. His grin turned devilish as he pulled her closer.

Tella’s breath went short. “What are you doing?”

“Asking you again.” He kissed her, harsh and quick and a little bit savage. She parted her lips, but that was all she could do. The hand at her waist kept her pressed to him, while the fingers at her neck spread out, covering her throat as he angled her head back, taking complete control as he deepened the kiss. He was possessing her, owning her with every sweep of his tongue and press of his lips, wordlessly telling her once more that he wanted to keep her forever. He didn’t kiss her as if he’d simply just come back to life. He kissed her as if he’d died, been buried, and clawed his way out of the grave and through the dirt just to get to her.

Tella had never experienced such a heady feeling in her life. He might not have loved her, but Julian was right that Legend knew how to make her feel wanted.

“Just say yes,” he said against her lips. “Let me make you immortal.”

“You’re not playing fair,” she murmured.

“I never said I did, and I won’t this time.” His thumb stroked the sensitive column of her neck. “You’re too important, Tella.”

But you don’t love me. Although as painful as it was to know that he didn’t love her now, she also knew that if he had, he wouldn’t be alive right now.

“Ahem.” The older sister cleared her throat. “If you wish to start making that child now, I’m afraid this isn’t the place.”

Tella leaped away from Legend, crashing back to a terrible reality and blushing harder than she ever had in her entire life.

“Now, I suggest we move on,” the older sister continued. “If you two keep at whatever it is you’re doing, weeks will have passed in your world by the time you leave ours.”

Dirty saints. Tella really had forgotten about the time. She hadn’t heard any bells ring, but she imagined more than an hour must have passed, maybe even longer, which meant at least a day had come and gone in her world. Another day that her sister was being held captive by the Fate who’d murdered her mother, and the people of Valenda suffered unknowable terrors, as the other Fates played with them like toys they wanted to break.

And she’d been kissing Legend.

Tella’s eyes shot back to the red jasper box in the older woman’s hands. That was what she’d come here for—a secret that could save them all—and she needed it, regardless of the cost.

“I’ll do it,” Tella said. “I’ll make the trade.”

“Tella, you don’t have to do this.” Legend turned to the older sister, tilting his head and flashing a smile that would have made most ladies swoon. “You can have one of my secrets.”

The older sister pursed her lips. “We’re not interested.”

An offended crease formed between Legend’s dark brows. “Then there has to be something else you want.”

Outside, the sun was still filling the world with lemony light, but none of it reached inside the tent. The air was growing colder, filling with heavy waves of creeping silver-blue fog.

“Legend—” Tella put a hand on his arm, before the fog became too thick to see through. “It’s all right, you don’t have to save me. I know what I’m doing.”

“But you shouldn’t have to do it.” He turned back to her, and though he didn’t say another word, his eyes were soft, apologetic. And she knew this wasn’t about him or his secrets.

Legend was thinking about the one thing that Tella hadn’t wanted to think about. Or rather, the one person—her mother.

When her mother had possessed the Deck of Destiny that imprisoned the Fates, the Temple of the Stars had wanted Paloma to give them Scarlett, in exchange for hiding the cursed Deck of Destiny. Her mother had refused, but she’d easily offered the temple Tella. And it had felt like the worst sort of betrayal, similar to what Tella was doing now.

“You don’t have to do this,” Legend said.