Caraval (Caraval 1)

Too simple.

But Scarlett knew nothing was that simple, especially not in a den such as this, a place designed to trap and seduce.

“I’ll start with something easy,” Nigel said. “Tell me about your companion, the handsome young man you traveled here with. I’m curious, how do you feel about him?”

Scarlett’s eyes immediately returned to Nigel’s lips. To the barbed wire around them. Not the heart. Not the heart. Her feelings for Julian were not like that.

“Julian is selfish, dishonest, and opportunistic.”

“Yet you’ve agreed to play the game with him. Those must not be your only feelings.” Nigel paused. He’d seen her look at the heart. Why it mattered, Scarlett wasn’t sure, but she could tell it did. She heard it in the way he asked, “Do you find him attractive?”

Scarlett wanted to deny it. Julian was the barbed wire. Not the heart. But while she didn’t always like Julian as a person, she couldn’t honestly deny he was extremely appealing physically. His rugged face, his wild dark hair, his warm brown skin. And even though she would never tell him, she loved the way he moved, with total confidence, as though nothing in the world could harm him. It made her less fearful when she was around him. As if boldness and bravery did not always end in defeat.

But she didn’t want to tell Nigel this, either. What if Julian were listening outside the tent?

“I—” Scarlett tried to say she didn’t care for his appearance, but the words stuck to her tongue like molasses.

“Are you having a problem?” Nigel waved his hand over a cone of incense. “Here, this helps loosen the tongue.”

Or forces people to tell the truth, thought Scarlett.

When Scarlett opened her mouth again, the words poured out. “I think he’s the most attractive person I’ve ever seen.”

She wanted to clap her hand over her mouth and shove the words back inside.

“I also think he’s thoroughly full of himself,” Scarlett managed to add, just in case the scoundrel was listening outside.

“Interesting.” Nigel formed a steeple with his hands. “Now, what two questions would you like to ask me?”

“What?” It alarmed her that Nigel only wanted to know about Julian. “You don’t have any more questions for me?”

“We’re running out of time. Hours slip by like minutes here.” Nigel’s hands drifted toward the dying candles lining his den. “You have two questions.”

“Only two?”

“Do you wish that to be one of your questions?”

“No, I just—” Scarlett clamped her mouth shut before she accidentally said something she shouldn’t.

If it were truly a game, it didn’t matter what she asked. Whatever answers she received would be make-believe. But what if parts of it were real? For a moment Scarlett dared to let her thoughts tiptoe into that hazardous place. She’d already witnessed magic in the clock shop, via Algie’s clockwork door and the enchanted dress from Legend. And Nigel’s incense had made her speak the truth, which evidenced at least some more magic. If the man before her could truly tell the future, what would she want to know?

Her eyes returned to the heart at the corner of his mouth. Red. The color of love and heartache and other things both virtuous and vile. As she looked at it then, she thought of the count, of his lovely letters and whether or not she could believe all the things he’d said. “The person I’m going to marry, can you tell me what sort of man he is—is he a good, honest person?”

Scarlett immediately regretted not asking about her sister first. She should have been thinking only of Tella—that’s why she’d gone into the tent in the first place. But it was too late to snatch the question back.

“No one is truly honest,” Nigel answered. “Even if we don’t lie to others, we often lie to ourselves. And the word good means different things to different people.” Nigel leaned forward, close enough for Scarlett to feel as if all the scenes on his body were watching her as well. He stared so intently, she wondered if there were images painted on her face that only he could see. “I am sorry, but the man you will marry is not what you would call good. At one time, perhaps, but he has turned from that path, and it is not yet clear if he will turn back.”

“What do you mean? How can it not be clear? I thought you said the future was mostly fixed—that we’re like cats, always chasing after the same mouse.”

“Yes, but every so often there are two mice. It is not yet clear which one he will continue to chase. You would be wise to be careful.” Again, Nigel looked at Scarlett as if she were covered in pictures only he could see. Pictures that pulled his face into a frown, as if she too had a heart near her mouth, but it was shattered into pieces.

She tried to tell herself it was all in her head. He was attempting to trick her. To frighten her as part of the game. But her marriage to the count was in no way connected to the game. There was nothing she could gain by Nigel’s cryptic warning.

Nigel rose from his cushions and started toward the back of the tent.

“Wait,” Scarlett said. “I never asked my second question.”