Caraval (Caraval, #1)(54)
A muscle ticked in Julian’s neck. He clearly didn’t believe her. “Maybe you should lie back down.”
“You know I can’t get back in that bed with you,” Scarlett snapped. It was what she would have said before, but her words came out harsher than she intended.
Julian wiped every emotion from his face, yet the turbulent colors hovering over his heart told Scarlett he was far from unfeeling. His hurt now mingled with a shade of something Scarlett had never seen. The color was indiscernible, not quite silver or gray, but she swore she could feel the sharp emotion behind it—maybe it was because they’d shared blood?
Her lungs were tight, and so was her throat. Every breath hurt as Julian strode over to the other door. “I wasn’t planning on getting back in bed with you,” he said.
Scarlett tried to respond, but now her vocal cords were closed and her eyes were stinging. It wasn’t until Julian stepped out of the room that she could breathe once more, and she realized: when he left, it felt as if he was closing the door on her as well.
*
Scarlett stood with her body pressed against the wall, fighting the urge to run after Julian, to apologize for acting so strange and awful. When he walked out the door, she would have sworn he wasn’t Legend, but she couldn’t risk trusting him and being wrong.
No, Scarlett corrected herself.
She could risk being wrong.
Everything Scarlett had done since arriving at Caraval involved risk. Some of those things had not ended well, but others had pleasantly surprised her—like the intimate moment she’d shared with Julian. He’d never have given her such a precious gift if she hadn’t first made a mistake by losing two days of her life.
Maybe taking a chance right now was exactly what she needed to do. If not for her own sake, she needed to do it for Tella. Julian had been her ally since she’d arrived, and Scarlett might need his help more than ever, with her father on the island now.
Oh, saints, her father! Scarlett hadn’t even told Julian he was there. She definitely had to find him now and warn him.
Anxiously, Scarlett opened the door. The wretched scent of her father’s perfume still lingered, but the only person in the hall was the vile man with the bowler hat who’d stolen her earrings. He paid no attention as she darted past him and onto the stairs. She didn’t know where Julian had gone, but she hoped he hadn’t left—
Scarlett froze at the next landing.
Julian, as confident as if he really was the master of Caraval, strode out of Dante’s room, opened Tella’s cracked door, and stepped inside.
What is he doing?
Julian hated Dante. And why Tella’s demolished room? What was—
Above her, the inn creaked with the weight of multiple footsteps. Three sets. As they drew closer to the stairwell above, she could hear the words of one man echoing down in her direction.
The first half of his sentence she couldn’t make out, but she recognized her father’s voice and caught what he said next. “You saw her walk by just now?”
A tremor worked its way through Scarlett’s body.
“Less than a minute ago. Now, where’s my coins?” It must have been the miserable man with the bowler hat speaking.
Suddenly she was back on Trisda, curling into stairwell shadows, afraid to move lest she get caught. But she had to move. Any moment her father would be down the stairs. Scarlett couldn’t afford to be afraid, or debate what she should do. Her boots barely tapped the floor as she scurried down the path Julian had taken into Tella’s room. She tried to latch the door, but the lock was broken.
The room was empty.
No sign of Julian anywhere.
But he’d definitely come in here.
Scarlett told herself there was a reasonable explanation. And then she remembered.
The dying garden she’d found in Castillo Maldito. Neglected and abandoned. The garden had been carefully cultivated as a place people would not linger—much like Tella’s room. Scarlett imagined Julian entering, pushing aside bits of wreckage, finding a floorboard with the symbol of Caraval, and then pressing his finger against it until another board slid open, leading him into a hidden tunnel.
A tunnel she needed to find.
Outside, the sound of footsteps grew louder, a harsh chorus to her frantic search. Dropping to her hands and knees, she scanned for an entrance. Splinters dug into her fingers as she crawled across the floor. Somehow the battered space still managed to smell like Tella. Sharp molasses and wild dreams. Scarlett moved with more urgency; she had to find her sister before their father caught either one of them.
Inside the fireplace, all the bricks were covered with soot, but her eyes latched on to a lighter smudge, as if someone had just pressed his thumb to it. Underneath, the symbol etched into the firebox wall was dirty, hard to see, but the tip of Scarlett’s finger tingled as she touched the same spot. For a panicked second nothing happened. Then, slowly, the fireplace shifted, bricks grinding apart to reveal a set of rich mahogany stairs. The sconces lining them burned with glowing orange coals, revealing a well-worn path down the center, as if someone traveled them often. Scarlett imagined Julian taking these steps every time he’d snuck away or disappeared.
It still doesn’t mean he’s Legend.
But Scarlett was having a harder time believing that now. If he wasn’t Legend, why else did he have so many secrets? Even if he wasn’t seducing Tella whenever he was away from Scarlett, Julian was definitely hiding something.