Caraval (Caraval, #1)(17)
Scarlett hurried toward the house, a new chill sliding over her as footsteps approached and she heard a low chuckle emerge from the flurry of white. “You didn’t take Grandfather Clock up on his offer?”
Scarlett jumped.
“No need to be scared, Crimson, it’s just me.” Julian emerged from the shadows of a nearby building, just as the sun finished setting.
“Why haven’t you gone in yet?” She pointed toward the turreted house. Half relieved not to be alone, half nervous to see the sailor again. A few minutes ago he’d rushed out of the clock shop. Now Julian sauntered closer as if he had all the time in the world.
His tone was warm and friendly when he said, “Maybe I was hoping you’d show up?”
But Scarlett found it difficult to believe he’d just been standing there, waiting for her, especially after the abrupt way he’d left her. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Or maybe she was paranoid from having lost Tella in the clock shop. She told herself she’d be with her sister soon enough. But what if Scarlett couldn’t find her once they were inside?
The wooden mansion appeared even larger close up, sprawling toward the sky as if its wooden beams still grew. Scarlett had to crane her neck to see the entirety of it. A fifty-foot-tall iron fence curled around it, formed into shapes both vulgar and innocent: They seemed to move, even to perform. Prancing girls being chased by naughty boys. Witches riding tigers and emperors atop elephants. Chariots pulled by winged horses. And in the center of it all hung a brilliant crimson banner embroidered with the silver symbol of Caraval.
If Tella were there they might have giggled together, the way only sisters could. Tella would have pretended not to be impressed, though secretly she would have been delighted. It was not the same with this strange sailor, who looked neither delighted nor impressed.
After how he’d helped her that day, Scarlett had to admit he wasn’t quite the scoundrel he seemed, but she also doubted he was the simple sailor he appeared. He eyed the gate suspiciously, the set of his shoulders tense, the lines of his back rigidly straight. All of the laziness she’d witnessed on the boat had vanished; Julian was now a boxed coil, tightly wound as if preparing for some sort of fight.
“I think we should go farther down and look for a gate,” he said.
“But see that flag?” Scarlett said. “This has to be where we get in.”
“No, I think it’s farther down. Trust me.”
She didn’t, but after her last blunder, she also didn’t trust herself. And she didn’t want to be left alone again. About twenty yards down they found another flag.
“This looks exactly like where we were before—”
“Welcome!” A dark-skinned girl on a unicycle pedaled out from behind the banner, cutting Scarlett off. “You’re here just in time.” The girl paused, and one by one, glass lanterns hanging from the tips of the gate lit up with flames. Brilliant gold-blue sparks—the color of childhood dreams, thought Scarlett.
“I always love it when that happens.” The girl on the unicycle clapped. “Now, before I can let either of you fine people through, I need to see your tickets.”
Tickets. Scarlett had forgotten all about the tickets. “Ah—”
“Don’t worry, love, I have them.” Julian placed an arm around Scarlett, tucking her unexpectedly close. And had he called her “love”?
“Go along with it, please,” he whispered in her ear as he reached into his pocket and retrieved two slips of paper, both a little wilted and wrinkled from their dip in the ocean.
Scarlett held back from saying anything as her name appeared on the first. Then the unicyclist held the other note up to one of the gate’s candlelit lanterns.
“That’s unusual. We don’t normally see tickets without names.”
“Is there a problem?” Scarlett asked, suddenly uneasy.
The unicyclist looked down at Julian, and for the first time her bright demeanor faded.
Scarlett was about to explain how she’d received the tickets, but Julian broke in first, his arm pressing harder against her shoulders in what felt like a warning. “Caraval Master Legend sent it. The two of us are getting married. He gifted the tickets to my fiancée, Scarlett.”
“Oh!” The cyclist clapped again. “I know all about the two of you! Master Legend’s special guests.” She looked at Scarlett more closely. “I should have recognized your name. I’m sorry. So many names, sometimes I forget mine.” She laughed at her own joke.
Scarlett tried to muster a chuckle as well, but all she could think about was the arm wrapped around her and Julian’s use of the word fiancée.
“You’ll want to make sure you hold on to these.” The unicyclist reached through the gate, passing the tickets back to Julian, and for a moment her eyes fastened on him as if there was something else she wanted to say. Then she seemed to think better of it. Breaking her gaze, she reached into the pocket of her patchwork vest and pulled out a scroll of black paper. “Now, before I can let you two in, there’s one more thing.” She quickened the pace of her pedaling, kicking up milky slivers of snow from the ground.
“This will be repeated again once you’re inside. Master Legend likes everyone to hear it twice.”
She cleared her throat and peddled even faster. “Welcome, welcome to Caraval! The grandest show on land or by sea. Inside you’ll experience more wonders than most people see in a lifetime. You can sip magic from a cup and buy dreams in a bottle. But before you fully enter into our world, you must remember it’s all a game. What happens beyond this gate may frighten or excite you, but don’t let any of it trick you. We will try to convince you it’s real, but all of it is a performance. A world built of make-believe. So while we want you to get swept away, be careful of being swept too far away. Dreams that come true can be beautiful, but they can also turn into nightmares when people won’t wake up.”