Caraval (Caraval 1)

“I’ll let you take the buttoned dress now,” she went on, “but the beaded gown won’t be delivered until two days from now, once your payment is fulfilled. After that—”

“Wait,” Scarlett interrupted. “Did you just say you want my debt paid now?”

“Well, it’s not going to do me any good next week, once the game is over, is it? But don’t worry, I won’t take the full payment until the sun is up, which gives you enough time to get somewhere safe.”

Somewhere safe?

“I think there’s been a mistake.” Scarlett gripped the edges of the counter. Was it just her imagination or had the heart in the scale started beating? “I thought I’d lose two days at the end of my life.”

“How should I know when your life is going to end?” The shopgirl chuckled, a harsh sound that seemed to make the world quake beneath Scarlett’s feet. “Don’t worry, as long as nothing happens to your body, you’ll come back to life at dawn on the eighteenth just fine.”

That was only two days before her wedding. Scarlett fought against a new surge of panic. It came in shades of hemlock green—the color of poison and terror. She had only lost three drops of blood, but it felt as if she were hemorrhaging. “I can’t die for two days—I need to leave in two days!”

If Scarlett died now, she’d never be able to find her sister and make it home in time for her wedding. And what if someone else, like Dante, found her sister while she was dead? Or the game ended early and Tella found Scarlett dead? The field of Scarlett’s vision was narrowing, going black around the edges.

Aiko and the shopgirl exchanged a look Scarlett didn’t like. Still gripping the shiny counter, she turned to Aiko. “You tricked me—”

“No I didn’t,” Aiko said. “I didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to answer the questions.”

“But I did answer the questions,” Scarlett tried to yell, but the effects of her trade were growing stronger, dulling her senses, making the world feel thicker, while she felt thinner. Powerless. “What happens if someone harms my body?”

Aiko grabbed Scarlett’s arm to steady her as she swayed. “You need to get back to your inn.”

“No—” Scarlett tried to protest. She couldn’t go back to La Serpiente; it was Julian’s day to use the room. But now Scarlett’s head felt like a balloon, trying to detach from her shoulders.

“You need to get her out of here.” The shopgirl cast a sharp glance at Scarlett. “If she dies on the street she’ll probably find herself buried underground.”

Scarlett’s horror spiked, turning shades of quicksilver. Her hearing was almost as fuzzy as her vision, but she could have sworn it sounded as if the girl wished this might happen. Something acidic and moldy and burnt bubbled up through Scarlett’s throat—the taste of death.

She barely felt strong enough to stand, let alone walk all the way back to the inn. When she woke, she’d have to choose between finding her sister—or leaving to make it back to Trisda in

time for her wedding. Scarlett knew it might come down to this, but she wasn’t ready to make the choice yet. And what would Julian do if he returned to their room and found her dead body?

“Scarlett!” Aiko shook her again. “You need to stay alive until you make it to safety.” She pushed Scarlett toward the door and shoved a sugar cube inside her mouth. “So you’ll have the strength. Don’t stop walking no matter what.”

Scarlett’s leaden legs quaked with lines of sweat. She could barely stand; she wouldn’t make it back. Aiko’s sugar had dissolved into rot in her mouth. “Why can’t you walk with me?”

“I have places I need to be,” said Aiko. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep my word. When someone takes days of your life, your body dies, but your mind exists in a sort of dream world. Unless your body is destroyed.”

Again, Scarlett tried to ask what would happen in that case, but her words came out garbled, as if she’d bitten them into pieces before spitting them out. She swore the whites of Aiko’s eyes shifted to black as she said, “You’ll be fine as long as you make it back to your room. I’ll find you in the dream world and show you my book.”

“But”—Scarlett swayed—“I usually forget my dreams.”

“This you will remember.” Aiko steadied her, and thrust another sugar cube into her mouth. “But you must promise not to tell anyone. Now”—Aiko gave Scarlett a final shove as she put the cherry-blossom dress in her hands—“get out of here before you die.”

20

Scarlett would remember only one thing clearly about her journey from the dress shop. She would not remember her limbs feeling as light as feathers, her bones turning to dust, or either of her attempts to lie down in the boats. She would not remember being prodded out of those same boats, or dropping her cherry-blossom gown. Though she would recall the young man who picked it up, and then took her arm to help her walk the rest of the way back to La Serpiente.

The words uselessly pretty came to mind, though as she looked up at her attractive companion, his face no longer looked quite so pretty. Hard lines and harsh angles highlighted dark eyes shadowed by even darker hair.

This person did not like her. She not only knew it, she could feel it in the rough way he handled her. The way he held on to her arm as she attempted to pull away.

“Let me go!” she tried to yell. But her voice was feeble, and the passersby who might have heard were too busy scurrying to their own snake holes. A quarter of an hour was all that remained until the sun rose and erased the magic of the night.

“If I let you go, you’ll just crawl into another boat.” Dante dragged her through La Serpiente’s rounded back door. Noise from the tavern circled around them. Mugs of cider clinking against glass tables. Snorts of amusement mixed with grunts of satisfaction, and groaned tales of things unsatisfying.

Only a sharp-looking gentleman with an eye patch and a crimson cravat noticed her being dragged onto a set of stairs, where the air darkened and the noise quieted. Later Scarlett would remember him watching, but just then her main concern was escaping from Dante.