Finale (Caraval 3)

She couldn’t do it.

Anissa had said over and over that Scarlett needed to become what the Fallen Star wanted most to defeat him, but the Fate had betrayed her. And Scarlett knew that even if this was the only way to best her father, it was too much of a betrayal to everything she believed in. If she let Gavriel push her into doing this, how much further would he be able to push her once her love was gone and she was a Fate? Would Gavriel threaten to kill Julian again if she refused to take away Gavriel’s ability to love? And would she be able to resist him—would she even want to?

Scarlett leaned into her magic once more and untwisted Julian’s emotions, freeing them until they were no longer tangled and knotted and hateful.

He stopped thrashing and his head sagged, but he still managed to look at her with the most beautiful brown eyes she’d ever seen. They were glassy and red—he was still in pain, but he was also still in love with her.

The Fallen Star squeezed Scarlett’s arm, making blisters break out over the skin that he’d already burned, but it wasn’t enough to change her mind. He could scorch her, torture her, put her in a cage again, but he could never make her hurt Julian.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Scarlett smiled for the crowd, as if this were part of the show he’d forced her to put on, but she kept her voice low, knowing that defying him publicly could earn Julian a very swift death. “I’m making a new deal. If you want my powers, I will give them to you, but not like this. He goes free right now, or you get nothing from me.”

Blood from the throne gushed faster, coating the Fallen Star’s arms in red. “I could kill him for your disobedience.”

“But then you would never get my powers.” Scarlett continued to smile as more heads turned their way, probably curious as to why the show had suddenly stopped. “Do this now or I will never do anything for you again.”

“Very well. I will give you what you want.” The Fallen Star motioned for Jester Mad and the Priestess to undo Julian’s binds.

“See how generous I can be?” asked Gavriel. “Your precious love will soon be free, but when I see you again, I expect you to make good on your promise. You will accept your power, you will become a true immortal, and you will take away the weakness that makes me able to love. Fail at this and I will torture everyone you care about until you are begging me to save them from their misery and finally kill them.”

52

Scarlett

Scarlett had no idea how long it would be until the Fallen Star came for her that nigh

t, but she had no intention of being there when he did. As soon as she was allowed to leave his horrendous party she raced back through the tunnels until she reached her rooms in the Menagerie.

The Lady Prisoner leaped from her gilded perch in a flurry of violet fabric the moment Scarlett stepped inside. “What—”

“Do not talk to me, you duplicitous disappointment of a woman.”

Anissa’s face fell into a pretty frown. “I tried to warn you; I told you that I cannot lie.”

“I said not to talk to me!” Scarlett ripped off her bloody gown once she reached her bedroom and hurried to put on her own enchanted dress. It warmed against her skin, as if it had missed her. Then it grew thicker and stronger as the fabric shifted from soft satin to supple raging red leather, which hugged her chest and flared out at her waist.

“Scarlett, listen to me,” the Lady Prisoner said. “Whatever you’re planning—”

“Stop talking!” Scarlett took out her Reverie Key and headed toward the door. “If you’re not a traitor, then save your words to distract or misdirect Gavriel when he comes for me.”

“But the torture—”

Scarlett ignored whatever Anissa said next. She shoved the Reverie Key in the doorknob, thinking only of Julian, hoping he’d already gotten far away from the palace—as she turned the magical object and opened the door.

At first she thought the key hadn’t worked. She was in a dungeon hallway, far more foul than the one Legend’s guards had used to lock up Tella. The air smelled of damp water and things left to die. Behind the iron bars, Scarlett saw a variety of torture devices, racks and chains and ropes, and then Julian, dangling from a ceiling.

Her legs buckled. She’d seen him wounded, she’d seen him dead, and yet neither of those things made this sight easier.

Julian’s hands were chained over his head and linked to a hook in the ceiling that left him hanging over a bloodstained drain. His shirt was ripped off, his chest was red and sweating, and his beautiful face was half covered in a metal mask that Scarlett could only partially see because his head was bowed, as if he couldn’t lift it anymore.

Her father must have had his Fates grab him as soon as he’d escaped the party, or he’d foolishly come back for her.

“Crimson—” His voice was raw and muffled.

“It’s going to be all right.” She tried to sound confident but her words cracked as her heart tore in half. “I’m—I’m going to get you free.”

“No,” Julian groaned, “you … you … need to get out of here.”