Caraval (Caraval, #1)(34)

Scarlett pulled away with a grunt of revulsion, but it was a little too loud, a little too wrong. And to her horror, rather than feeling distaste, a tingle of periwinkle curiosity prickled her senses.

Scarlett and Julian were closer to the kissing tent now. Perfume wafted from it. It smelled like the middle of the night, making Scarlett think of soft lips and strong hands, dark stubble brushing her cheek that reminded her entirely too much of Julian.

Ignoring the way her pulse kicked up speed, she tried to think of something clever to say in retort to Julian’s next jibe. But, for once, Julian remained quiet. In a way his sudden silence was more uncomfortable than if he’d teased her again.

She couldn’t imagine her response to his offer had offended the sailor, although she noticed he didn’t walk as close as before. Even when he made no effort to touch her, he was usually near enough that he easily could, but they continued through the courtyard, a little too far apart and much too quietly, appearing nothing like an engaged couple.

“You wish to know your future?” asked a young man.

“Oh, I—” Scarlett sputtered as she turned and saw a wall of flesh. She had never looked at a naked man, and while this man was not quite that, he was so close to it she knew it would be improper to even consider entering his russet tent. Yet she didn’t back away.

All he wore was a brown cloth that went from his hips to his thick upper thighs, revealing smooth planes of skin all covered in brightly inked tattoos. A fire-breathing dragon chased a mermaid across the forest on his abdomen, while cherubs shot arrows from above his ribs. Some speared coy fish, while others pierced clouds that bled yellow dandelions and peach flower petals. Some of the petals dripped toward his legs, which were covered in detailed circus scenes.

His face was equally decorated; one purple eye looked out from each cheek, while black stars lined his actual eyes. But it was his lips that drew Scarlett’s attention. Surrounded by tattoos of barbed blue wire, one side was locked with a golden padlock, while the other was sealed with a heart.

“How much do you charge for a reading?” Julian asked. If he was surprised by the man’s unique appearance it didn’t show.

“I will uncover your future in proportion to what you give me,” said the inked man.

“That’s all right,” Scarlett said. “I think I’m quite fine discovering my future as it comes.”

Julian eyed her. “That’s not how it looked yesterday when we passed by those ridiculous spectacles.”

“What spectacles?”

“You know, the different-colored ones that could see the future.”

Scarlett remembered now: she had been intrigued, but she was surprised he’d noticed.

“If you want to go in, I can keep looking for clues.” Julian pressed a hand to the small of Scarlett’s back and gave her a gentle shove.

She was about to argue; putting on spectacles was not the same as entering a darkened tent with a half-naked man. But yesterday she’d lost Tella because she’d been too frightened to strike a bargain. If the third clue needed to be earned, maybe she could earn information about the future—about where she would find Tella.

“Do you want to go in with me?” Scarlett asked.

“I’d rather my future remain a surprise.” Julian cocked his head toward the kissing tent. “When you’re done, I’ll meet you over there.” He blew her a taunting kiss, which made her think maybe all the earlier awkwardness was just inside of her head.

“I’m not sure if I’d agree with that,” said the tattooed man.

Scarlett could have sworn she hadn’t spoken aloud; surely this man couldn’t have read her mind. Or maybe he’d only guessed that statement could easily apply to whatever it was she’d been thinking, another way to trick her into entering his darkened tent.





15

The tattooed young man told her his name was Nigel as he guided her past the sleek borders of the tent, onto sand steps that led her down into a den covered in pillows and filled with a fog of candle smoke and jasmine incense.

“Sit,” instructed Nigel.

“I think I’d rather stand.” The sea of pillows reminded Scarlett too much of the bed in her room at La Serpiente. For a moment she flashed back to Julian as he stretched across it and unbuttoned his shirt.

When she looked back at the cushions, Nigel had positioned himself in a similar pose, naked arms spread across the pillows, leaving her with the urge to run back up the stairs.

“Where is your ball of crystal? Or those cards people use?” she asked.

The corner of Nigel’s tattooed lips twitched, but it was enough to make Scarlett edge back toward the steps. “You have much fear.”

“No, I’m just cautious,” Scarlett said. “And I’m trying to figure out how all this works.”

“Because you are afraid,” he repeated, looking at Scarlett in a way that made her believe he was talking about more than just how hesitant she’d been to enter his tent. “Your eyes keep finding the painted lock on my lips. You feel trapped and unsafe.” Nigel pointed to the heart on the other side of his mouth. “Your eyes land here as well. You want love and protection.”

“Isn’t that what every girl wants?”

“I cannot speak for every girl, but most people’s eyes are drawn to other things. Many want power.” Nigel drew a finger, inked with a dagger, over the dragon on his abdomen. “Others want pleasure.” He ran a hand over the wild circus on his thighs, along with a few more tattoos. “Your eyes passed over all these.”