Finale (Caraval 3)

“How do we undo it?” Scarlett asked. “When the Poisoner petrified that family, he left a note.”

But no one found a note on the stage.

“I think we just need to cut the cords, or untie them,” said Julian. Which proved easier said than done.

The poor servants’ arms and limbs moved faster with each attempt to set them free. Julian was the only one with a blade; he gave it to Scarlett. But none of them had an easy time of things. They all had to jump back more than once to avoid being kicked in the stomach or punched in the face as they worked to undo the servants’ bonds. Thankfully Nicolas didn’t employ too large of a staff.

There were only half a dozen of them. Their hearts were still beating, but barely. None of them could stand on their own legs very long once they were freed.

“The master has infection remedies for the wounds in his greenhouse,” muttered an older man as he ripped a rotted blueberry mask from his face. Tella imagined he was the butler. His eyes were the saddest of the lot, as he looked over his fellow servants all slumped across the stage.

Julian found the remedies while Tella fetched water, and Scarlett procured bandages from a small closet for the servants’ raw wrists and ankles. The entire ordeal was terribly somber. Neither Scarlett, Julian, nor Tella told any of the servants what had happened to Nicolas, and none of them asked, making Tella suspect that they must have already known. Or they’d experienced enough terror and they didn’t want to know.

There were lots of murmured thanks, but no one met her eyes, as if they were ashamed of what had been done to them. Only the boy with the ringlets looked at Tella directly. He even managed a crooked smile, as if she were some sort of hero, which she wasn’t, not at all. She was part of the reason all of this had happened. But in that moment, she vowed that she would make up for the part she’d played in freeing the Fates. “I’ll find who did this to you, and make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

“He wore a mask,” offered the boy. “But it wasn’t like this.” The child kicked at the scrap of cherry fabric that had been tied to his face. “His was shiny, like porcelain, and one side was baring teeth while the other side winked and stuck out half a tongue.”

“Jester Mad,” said Tella. “He’s a Fate.”

Several of the adults suddenly looked her way as she spoke; at least one appeared to think she shouldn’t be saying any of this to the little boy. But after what they’d just experienced, none of them contradicted her.

Tella didn’t go into the history of the Fates, or how they’d been freed from a Deck of Destiny, but she said enough so that once the servants and the boy recovered, they could warn others about the danger Valenda was now in.

It felt like an insignificant effort, but hopefully it would save a few other people from being turned into human toys, or from being murdered—like her mother, and Legend.

Tella’s eyes scanned the dusky horizon, as if Legend finally might appear on it, shining brighter than the stars that were beginning to sneak out. She kept searching for signs of his return after all the servants were fed and bandaged and helped back to their quarters in the rear of the estate, which didn’t possess any of the rot that had clung to the count’s library.

Tella was ready to follow the servants inside and wash up. But Scarlett lingered outside the door on an overgrown path covered in peculiar faisies.

“Do you want to come inside with me to wash up?” Tella asked.

The air was still, but Scarlett’s skirts rustled around her ankles. Tella hadn’t noticed when the gown had shifted colors. Earlier, it had been a brilliant ball-gown red. Now it was mourning-black.

“I’m sorry about Nicolas,” Tella said. “He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“No, he didn’t. I should never have tried to find him. Then he’d still be alive.” Scarlett’s eyes glistened with tears as she looked up at Tella. “We can’t let the Fallen Star do this to anyone else.”

“We won’t.” Tella reached out to take her sister’s hand.

But Scarlett stepped back, a worried line between her brows. “I’m sorry, Tella—I thought I could stay here with you and Julian, but I need to return to the Fallen Star.”

“What? No!” Tella’s voice was joined by Julian as he emerged from the servants’ quarters. “You can’t.”

Julian must have just cleaned up. His dark hair dripped water all over the overgrown path as Scarlett stepped closer to the estate and away from the servants’ open windows.

“I’m sorry,” Scarlett said. “But I have to do this. I think I might be the key to defeating the Fates.”

“Absolutely not!” Julian bellowed while Tella yelled, “Have you lost your mind? He killed our mother and threatened to turn you into a Fate. You can’t go back to him!”

“I don’t want to go back,” Scarlett said. “But I knew I had to as soon as I saw those servants. If they’d been left much longer, they wouldn’t have survived.”

“But how will your going back do anything to help other people like them?” Tella argued. She wanted the same thing as her sister. She wanted to find a way to kill the Fallen Star and protect everyone from the terror of him and his Fates. But this was not the way to do it. “The Vanished Market is one of the Fated places,” she said. “There are sisters there who sell secrets, and I think they might have one that will tell us how to kill the Fallen Star.”

“What if they don’t?” Scarlett argued.

“Then we’ll find another way,” Julian cut in.

“I think this is the other way,” Scarlett said. “The Fallen Star wants me to master my powers, and I think that might be the key to stopping him. There was another Fate there, the Lady Prisoner. She told me that to defeat the Fallen Star, I needed to become what he wanted.”