Caraval (Caraval, #1)(91)

Scarlett stopped several feet away, unable to move any closer. She could hear the low rumble of his voice now as he told Angelique, “I think that’s where we’re headed next.”

“And are you planning on stealing the show again?” Angelique asked.

A wolfish flash of teeth.

Angelique wet her lips.

Scarlett wanted to melt into the night, wink out of existence like a broken star.

Then he saw her.

Without another word, Julian set down his glass and strode toward her. The leaves above Scarlett shuddered, raining down bits of green and gold as he moved. His gait shifted, wavering between confident and something that looked nothing like it.

Her Julian. Yet, how could he be hers when she didn’t know anything real about him?

She said, “Hello,” but it came out like a whisper. And for a moment they just stood there, under trees that had gone as still as her heart.

“So, is your name really something else?” she finally asked. “Like Caspar?”

“Thankfully, no, my name is not Caspar.”

When Scarlett didn’t smile, he added, “It gets too confusing if we all use different names. Only the performer who plays Legend does that.”

“So your name really is Julian?”

“Julian Bernardo Marrero Santos.” His lips curved slightly, just the corners. Not the wicked twist she recognized. Another sharp reminder that this was not the boy she knew. Shades of the rich ruby love she’d felt during the game mixed with hues of deep-indigo hurt, turning everything just a little bit violet.

“I feel as if I don’t know you at all,” she blurted.

“Ouch—you’re wounding me, Scarlett.” He sounded more serious than mocking. Yet all she heard was the way he’d called her Scarlett—not Crimson. The nickname had probably just been part of the game, and it shouldn’t have meant anything, yet not hearing it reminded her once more of who he really was, and wasn’t.

“I don’t think I can do this.” She turned to leave him.

“Scarlett, wait.” Julian grabbed her arm, spinning her back around. From the distance they might have looked like one of the many dancing couples around them—if one couldn’t see the frustration in his face or the hurt in hers.

“Why do you keep calling me Scarlett?” she asked.

“Isn’t that your name?”

“Yes, but you’ve never called me it before.”

“I’ve also never done this before.” A muscle ticked in Julian’s jaw. “When the game ends, we go, leaving everything behind. I’m not used to talking to participants after it’s over.”

“Would you rather I go?” Scarlett asked.

“No. I would think that’s obvious,” Julian ground out. “But I do want you to stop looking at me as if I’m some kind of stranger.”

“But you are,” she said.

Julian winced.

“Can you deny it? You know so much about me and I don’t know anything real about you.”

The hurt in Julian’s expression deepened. “I know it feels like that, but not everything I told you was a lie.”

“But most of it was. You—”

Julian brought a finger to Scarlett’s lips. “Please let me finish. It wasn’t all a deception. Who we play during Caraval always reflects part of who we are. Dante still thinks he’s prettier than everyone else. Aiko is unpredictable, but usually helpful. You might think you don’t know me, but you do. What I told you—about my family being well connected and playing games—that was true.” Julian waved an arm, gesturing toward all the people around them. “This has been my family for most of my life.”

A mixture of pride and some other emotion that Scarlett couldn’t place edged his features. And suddenly she recognized one of his names from her nana’s stories—Santos. “You’re related to Legend?”

Instead of answering, Julian scanned the celebration before turning back to her. “Will you walk with me?” He reached out a hand.

Scarlett could still remember kissing his fingers, tasting each one as she pressed them to her lips. A tremor slid across her bare shoulders at the memory. He’d warned her that she should be afraid of his secrets, and now she understood why.

Refusing his hand, she followed him anyway. Her slippers crushed flower petals as he led her toward a willow tree, parting its sweeping branches so she could step through. Some of the leaves gleamed in the dark, casting gentle green light and sheltering them from the rest of the party.

“Almost my entire life, I looked up to Legend,” Julian began. “I was like you were, when you started writing him letters. I idolized him. Growing up, I wanted to be Legend. And when I became a performer, I never cared if the lies I told hurt anyone. All I cared about was impressing him. Then came Rosa.” The way he said her name made something tumble uncomfortably inside Scarlett’s chest. She knew Rosa was real, but she’d thought it was Legend who had seduced her.

“You were the performer who was involved with her?”

“No,” Julian answered immediately. “I never even met her, but I was telling you the truth when I said I lost faith in everything when she killed herself. After that, I realized Caraval was no longer the game it had once been, meant to give people a harmless adventure, and hopefully make them a little wiser. Legend had changed over the years, and not for the better. He takes on a part of whatever roles he plays, and he’d been playing the role of a villain for so long, he’d become one in real life. Finally, a few months back, I decided to leave, but Legend convinced me to give him another chance and stay.”