Finale (Caraval 3)

“I thought I’d try something new. I want us to start over.” He flashed his dimples in a way that Tella imagined was an attempt at an innocent smile.

She wondered briefly what might have happened if he’d given her that smile the first time they’d met, rather than threatening to toss her out of the carriage. She wouldn’t have thought he was the least bit innocent or harmless, but she would have been intrigued.

“Say you could relive that day. What would you have done differently?”

“Maybe I’d have offered you a bite of my apple.” He leaned forward, approaching her almost reverently, and set the glittering piece of fruit in her hands. It was colder than his skin, nearly burning in its iciness. “Go ahead and take a bite, my love. It’s just an apple.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

His grin twitched. “It may have a little magic.”

“What kind?”

“Taste it and find out.” Jacks’s challenging stare looked like a dare, the sort that was already lost as soon as it was accepted.

If this had happened the first time they’d met, she probably would have taken a bite, half curious about the magical white fruit, half hoping to impress the even more magical boy across from her. And it probably would have put her under a spell more treacherous than his kiss had.

“I think I’ll pass.” She handed him the apple.

Jacks took hold of her instead. In an instant she was across the carriage and folded neatly in his lap, his cool arms wrapped around her, and his lips were close enough to kiss.

“Jacks.” Tella placed a hand against his chest before he could lean any closer. “I would have been tempted by the apple, but I might have actually pushed you out of the carriage if you’d tried this that day.”

“Then push me, Donatella. I won’t stop you if that’s what you want.” But rather than letting her go, the arms around her tightened. Then his head tilted to the side. His lips found the sensitive place where her neck met her jaw.

“Jacks…” Her voice was too breathless. It sounded like an invitation instead of a warning as his mouth trailed down her neck, moving slowly and softly against her skin. His lips dropped lower, to the hollow of her throat, and her heart beat faster. When Jacks kissed her it always felt a little like he worshipped her. And with everything that had just transpired with Legend, it was so very tempting to just let him keep doing it.

“Tell me what you want, Donatella. Say it and I’ll give it to you.” His mouth stilled on her collarbone.

“Jacks.” She pushed hard on his chest. There wasn’t really enough room in the carriage for her to go anywhere, but she was able to separate his lips from her skin. Three months ago, she wouldn’t have stopped him. The Tella who didn’t believe in love would have played with Jacks the same way he clearly enjoyed playing with her. But Tella felt too vulnerable to play tonight.

“I’m sorry, Jacks. I don’t think you can give me what I want.”

The color of his eyes dulled to pale sea glass, something like hurt filling his gaze. “If I had my full powers, I could change your mind. I could make you feel more than you’ve ever imagined. I can even make the feeling last if you tell me who Legend is.”

He stroked her cheek; his touch was affectionate—but there was nothing loving or warm about what he’d suggested.

Unlike the other Fates, Jacks hadn’t been in the cards when Legend had freed them from the Deck of Destiny, so he remained weakened. But with his complete powers, Jacks could control anyone’s emotions. While having him take her feelings from her for one night had been a relief, Tella wouldn’t ever want to give someone that much power over her indefinitely.

“I wouldn’t want that, either,” she said softly.

“At least I tried.” His dimples returned. “I suppose I’ll just have to try harder.”

He ran his fingers down her cheek once more as the dream dissolved.

37

Scarlett

While Tella was still asleep, Scarlett received a note sheathed inside the linen napkin accompanying her breakfast. She resisted the urge to immediately tear open the message. Instead, she took another sip of her morning cordial and slowly slid the page into her pocket.

She swore she could see puffs of demanding purple drifting up from where the message hid, as if it contained some of her sister’s impatience.

The Lady Prisoner was friendly, forthcoming with what she knew about the Fallen Star’s plans, and she hadn’t told him about Scarlett’s use of the Reverie Key. And yet Scarlett still didn’t entirely trust her. She let the note sit in her pocket until later that afternoon, when the Lady Prisoner’s eyes were finally closed for her nap and Scarlett could see that her colors had genuinely shifted to the tranquil teal of still waters.

The lady Fate never slept long—Scarlett imagined it had something to do with the fact that she was forced to sleep on a perch. So Scarlett read quickly, and then she penned a hasty note of her own.

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