Caraval (Caraval, #1)(15)

“Borrowed,” Julian corrected, twirling the chain around his finger. “Same as the clothes you have on.” He looked her over and nodded approvingly. “I can see why he sent you tickets.”

“What’s that supposed to me—” Scarlett broke off as she caught her reflection in the glass of a mirrored clock. No longer dull shades of bland, the dress was now a rich cerise—the color of seduction and secrets. A stylish row of bows ran down the center of a fitted bodice with a scooped neck, set off by a matching ruffled bustle. The skirts beneath were scalloped and fitted to her form, five slender tiers of different fabrics, alternating between cerise silk and tulle, and bits of black lace. Even her boots had changed, from dull brown to an elegant combination of matching black leather and lace.

She ran her hands over the material of her dress to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the mirror or the light. Or maybe in her frozen state she’d only thought the dress had been drab before. But deep down Scarlett knew there was only one explanation. Legend had given her an enchanted gown.

Magic like this was only supposed to live in stories, but this dress was very real, leaving Scarlett unsure what to think. The child inside her loved it; the grown-up Scarlett wasn’t sure she felt quite comfortable in it—whether it was magical or not. Her father would never have let her wear something so eye-catching, and even though he wasn’t there, attention was still not a thing she craved.

Scarlett was a pretty girl, though she often liked to hide it. She’d inherited her mother’s thick dark hair, which complemented her olive skin. Her face was more of an oval than Tella’s, with a petite nose and hazel eyes so large she always felt they gave away too much.

For a moment she almost wished for the drab beige frock. No one noticed girls in ugly clothes. Maybe if she thought about it, the dress would shift again. But even as she visualized a simpler cut and a plainer color, the cherry gown remained vibrant and tight, clinging to curves she’d rather have concealed.

Julian’s cryptic words came to mind—I can see why he sent you tickets—and Scarlett wondered if she’d found a way to escape her father’s deadly games on Trisda, only to become a well-costumed piece on a new game board.

“If you’re finished admiring yourself,” said Julian, “should we search for that sister you’re so eager to find?”

“I would think you’d be worried about her as well,” said Scarlett.

“Then you think too highly of me.” Julian started toward the door as every chime in the shop rang out.

“You might not want to exit that way,” said an unfamiliar voice.





8

The rotund man who had just entered the shop looked a bit like a clock himself. The mustache on his dark, round face stretched out like a minute and hour hand. His shiny brown frock coat reminded Scarlett of polished wood, his brass suspenders of cable pulleys.

“We weren’t stealing,” Scarlett said. “We—”

“You should only speak for yourself.” The man’s baritone voice fell several octaves as he focused two narrowed eyes on Julian.

From dealing with her father, Scarlett knew it was best not to appear guilty.

Don’t look at Julian.

Yet she couldn’t help but glance.

“I knew it!” said the man.

Julian reached for Scarlett, as if to push her toward the door.

“Oh no, don’t run out! I’m only kidding,” the stranger called. “I’m not Casabian, I’m not the owner! I’m Algie, and I don’t care if your pockets are stuffed with clocks.”

“Then why are you trying to stop us from leaving?” Julian’s hands were on his belt, one reaching for his knife.

“This boy’s a bit paranoid, isn’t he?” Algie turned to Scarlett, but she was feeling sage-shaded colors of suspicion as well. Was it just her, or were the clocks on the wall ticking faster than before?

“Come on,” she said to Julian. “Tella’s probably worried to death about us by now.”

“You’ll find whoever you’re looking for faster this way.” Algie stepped over to the rosewood grandfather clock, opened its glass door, and tugged on one of its weights. As he did, the metallic puzzle clocks on the wall shifted. Click. Clack. Their pieces snapped together, rearranging into a magnificent patchwork door with a notched count wheel in place of a handle.

Algie waved an arm theatrically. “Today only! For a bargain price the two of you can use this entrance—a shortcut into the heart of Caraval.”

“How do we know it’s not just an entry into your basement?” asked Julian.

“Does this feel like a door to a cellar? Look with all of your senses.” Algie touched the door’s notched wheel and at once every clock in the shop went quiet.

“If you leave this shop the other way, you’ll be spit into the cold and you’ll still have to pass through the gates. This will save you precious time.” He released the handle and all the timepieces started moving once more.

Tick-tock. Tock-tick.

Scarlett wasn’t sure she believed Algie, yet there was obviously something magical about the portal on the wall. It felt a bit like the dress she wore, as if it took up a little more space than everything else around it. And if it were a shortcut into Caraval, then she would find her sister faster. “What will it cost us?”