Caraval (Caraval, #1)(44)

Scarlett thought she glimpsed Dante slip onto a covered bridge, but once she reached the bridge it contained nothing but lantern light, and led to a disappointing dead end. All Scarlett found after she crossed it was an alley made of brick walls, and a cider cart manned by a cute boy with a monkey on his shoulder.

“Can I interest you in some burnt-sugar cider?” asked the boy. “It will make you see things more clearly.”

“Oh, no—I’m looking for someone, with tattoos all over his arms, all black clothes, and an angry look on his face.”

“I think he might have bought some cider last night, but I haven’t seen him tonight. Good luck!” called the boy as Scarlett darted back onto the bridge.

Once she reached the other side, she spied a number of young men with untidy black clothes—at this point in the game, everyone was starting to appear a bit ragged around the edges—but no one had arms covered in ink. Scarlett continued weaving through the crowd, until she caught sight of someone with what looked like a black heart tattoo heading up a set of emerald stairs a few shops past the Glass Tavern.

Picking up the hem of her skirt, Scarlett rushed to follow her black-hearted boy. She tore up the stairs and onto another covered bridge. But when she reached the other side of the bridge, all she found was another dead end and another cute boy, again with a cider cart and a monkey.

“Wait—” Scarlett paused. “Weren’t you just over there?” She motioned vaguely, no longer quite sure of where “over there” was anymore.

“I haven’t gone anywhere all night, but that bridge you just crossed moves quite often,” said the boy. He flashed his dimples and the monkey on his shoulder nodded.

Scarlett craned her neck back toward the bridge, its lights fluttering as if winking at her. Two days ago she would have said it was impossible, but now the thought didn’t even cross her mind. She wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but she’d stopped doubting the magic.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” The boy stirred his cider, sending fresh streams of apple-scented steam into the air.

“Oh—” Scarlett was about to say no, her standard response, but then she remembered something. “Did you say this would help me to see things more clearly?”

“You’ll not find a brew like this anywhere else.” The monkey on his shoulder nodded again in agreement.

A welcome chill raced over Scarlett. What if this was the reason Nigel had told her to follow the boy with the heart made of black? Maybe if she drank the cider her eyes would be sharp enough to spot the clue she needed.

Scarlett snuck a peek at the game’s instructions: Number four will cost you something valuable.

“What will I have to pay?” Scarlett asked.

“Not much—the last lie you told.”

It didn’t seem like much of a price. But even if the cider was not the next clue, it would most likely give her some sort of edge, which she definitely needed.

Feeling fortunate she’d taken Aiko’s advice in the tavern, Scarlett leaned close and whispered her story about the mermaid fountain. The boy looked disappointed at not being told a juicier lie, but he handed her the cup.

Browned sugar and melted butter with hints of cream and toasted cinnamon. It tasted like the best parts of the Cold Season, mixed with just a hint of heat. “It’s delicious, but I don’t see anything different.…”

“It takes a minute or two to kick in. I promise, you won’t be disappointed.” The boy nodded a parting good-bye, and his monkey saluted her as he began pushing his cart in the direction of the tricky bridge.

Scarlett took another sip of cider, but now it tasted too sweet, as if it were trying to mask a harsher flavor. Something wasn’t right. Scarlett’s emotions were swirling into messy grays and dull whites. Normally Scarlett just saw flashes of color attached to her feelings, but as she watched the boy depart, she could see his skin shifting to ashy gray, while his clothes turned black.

Scarlett blinked, unsettled by the image, only to be more disturbed when she opened her eyes once more.

Now everything was shades of black and gray. Even the candlelight lining the bridge was foggy gloom instead of golden. She tried not to panic, but her heart beat faster with every step as she crossed back over the bridge and returned to a world no longer full of color.

Caraval had shifted to black and white.

Scarlett dropped the cider, buttery gold liquid splashing over gray walkways, the only puddle of bright amid the awful new dull. The boy with the monkey was nowhere to be seen. He was probably laughing at her as he pushed his cart, searching for a new victim.

She looked up and found herself near the Glass Tavern’s back exit. Aiko had just stepped outside, her bright dress now charcoal.

“You look dreadful,” she said. “I’m guessing you didn’t catch the young man you were after?”

Scarlett shook her head. Behind Aiko, the door to the tavern was closing. Scarlett scanned the inside quickly enough to see Julian had still not arrived, or if he had, he’d already left. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“Then make it into something better.” Aiko strolled down the cobbled street as if the world could crumble around her and she’d just keep going. Scarlett wanted to feel like that, but the game seemed to be constantly working against her, and she imagined it was easy for Aiko, since she was only observing. No one had stolen her sister, or the color from her world. Scarlett could picture Aiko gliding on air if enough bits of earth fell away. The only thing she held on to securely was the battered notebook in her hand. Brownish green, the color of forgotten memories, abandoned dreams, and bitter gossip.