Finale (Caraval 3)

Tella’s head snapped to the male guard.

And then she felt the hard press of metal as the female darted forward and quickly linked chain cuffs around Tella’s wrists.

“What are you doing?” Tella shouted.

“We’re placing you under arrest, by order of His Highness, Prince Dante.”

15

Donatella

Tella rattled the dungeon bars, feeling like the Fated Lady Prisoner who’d been put in a cage for no good reason. “Your Highness!”

Magic strangled her every time she attempted calling out for Legend, but she was not in the mood to yell for someone who didn’t really exist and cry out the name Dante, or even worse, “Prince Dante.” But there was something pleasantly mocking about “Your Highness.”

She couldn’t believe he’d had her arrested. Was it because he knew that she’d followed him the day before? She didn’t think he’d seen her, but that still didn’t give him the right to imprison her.

Now she definitely didn’t need to feel guilty about kissing Jacks.

Tella shook the bars again. The stone gargoyles impaled by the tops of them peered down on her with bulging eyes. She didn’t know how long she’d been locked up here all alone. As she’d been dragged inside, she’d looked around at the other cells, wondering if Legend had brought his witch down here as well. But all Tella saw were the tally marks etched into the walls. There were names carved in

to the dry stones as well, but she didn’t plan on staying long enough to make hers one of them.

“You have no right to keep me locked up!” Tella cried out.

A heavy door groaned open at the end of the torch-lit hall, followed by the confident beat of boots, which she knew too well. Legend wasn’t crowned yet, but he already moved like an emperor stepping into a throne room.

Tella’s eyes trailed upward from his tall black boots to the fitted black trousers hugging his muscular legs. His shirt was also black, but it was accented with a vest covered in thin wolf-gray lines that matched the cravat at his throat and the lapels of his velvet coat. The coat was the rich royal color of blackberries—a shade she’d never seen him in. But he wore the color well; it complemented his bronze skin tone, and made his hair look even blacker and his eyes look even brighter, bringing out flecks of gold that reminded her of stars at night.

No wonder they’d already started creating statues of him around the city. He might have been a liar and a villain, but he made both things look very good.

The other cells were empty, but he didn’t even glance at them, and Tella had the impression that Legend wouldn’t have darted his eyes around even if the cells had been full of deadly criminals. He moved like nothing in the human world could hurt him. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder. According to the witch, he only had one weakness, and Tella doubted it was in this dungeon.

She couldn’t believe she’d chased him into another world because she’d thought he was in danger. Even though he could have been telling the truth about losing some of his powers, she should have known that he’d do whatever it took to get them back.

“Let me out of here, you bastard!”

“I think I preferred Your Highness.” He continued his elegant walk toward her, moving with unrushed strides down the dim hall. Someone else might have thought he didn’t have any particularly strong feelings about their current situation. But Tella had spent the last two months sharing dreams with him. She was aware of his movements—aware of him. She noticed the tic in his jaw as he slowly raked her over, eyes traveling from her bare feet to her naked calves. His gaze tightened as he reached her skirt with all its ripped-up feathers. But instead of making a mocking comment, Tella saw lines form across his brow, as if he was trying to puzzle something out.

Was it possible he didn’t know that she’d followed him to see the witch? And if that was the case, then why had he locked her up?

She glowered at him when his probing gaze traveled from her neck, to her lips, and then—finally—her eyes.

The dungeon suddenly grew very warm. His gaze was still tight and dark, but it was edged in heat that she felt all the way down to her toes.

For months Tella had pondered what it would be like when they met again outside of her dreams. She wondered if he’d touch her at last, if he’d apologize for leaving her on the steps in front of the Temple of the Stars. Once she’d even imagined him asking her to be his empress. She almost laughed at that thought now, but she was wholly serious when she said, “Just because you’re going to be emperor doesn’t mean you can lock me up without reason.”

The corner of his mouth slowly lifted into an arrogant tilt. “Actually, it does. But I didn’t mean for you to be arrested. I only told my guards to collect you and bring you to me once you were found.” His voice was cool, even. Again, another person might not have picked up on the way his sentences turned razor-sharp right at the ends. He was definitely angry, and angry with her.

Tella couldn’t believe it. Her mother was dead. The Fates were awake. Her sister had been kidnapped. His guards had locked her up, and yet Legend kept looking at her as if she was the one who’d done something wrong.

“What crime have I committed?”

“I told you, I didn’t have you arrested. I know how you feel about cages. I was only trying to find you.”

“Did you really have to use your guards?” She tried to keep her voice as even as his was, but it was difficult. She could feel Jacks’s spell cracking. Her chest was tight and her head was pounding. And Legend still hadn’t unlocked her cell door. “If you’d wanted to find me, why didn’t you just visit me in my dreams and ask me where I was?”

A quick clench of his jaw. “I tried to.”