Finale (Caraval #3)(15)
“Do you also sing?” Scarlett asked. “I’ve never heard a hum so musical.”
The corner of Julian’s mouth hitched into a wry smile. “I have lots of practice. For years, Legend kept giving me roles as a minstrel who only spoke in song.”
Scarlett laughed. “What did you do to earn that?”
Julian shrugged. “My brother has a jealous streak. I think it bothered him that I was getting so much attention during the games. He tried to turn me into a joke. But everyone likes a handsome young man with a good voice.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes, but the world did turn lovelier when Julian started humming again. She looked out the window as the coach rumbled closer to an immaculately kept country house the color of Sun Festival peaches, trimmed in crisp white and surrounded by rambling faises that made her think of living lace.
Even the family out front appeared to be perfectly posed. They must have been celebrating the festival with an outdoor dinner. There was a long table atop the grass, set with flowered cloths and covered in what looked like a feast. The family of five stood around it, all drinking from earthenware goblets as if someone had just given a toast. Scarlett looked to the youngest child, a girl with long braids down her back. She held her goblet with both hands, lips smiling as if this was her first taste of wine. It was the sort of grin that hurt if a person held on to it too long.
But the smile didn’t change. Nothing changed.
Bitter-orange pinpricks of unease crawled over Scarlett’s skin as the coach trundled past and no one among the party lowered their goblets or moved at all.
Scarlett might have thought the family was a series of incredibly lifelike statues if not for the terrified plumes of phantom-purple swirling around their frozen forms. Plumes that were definitely not in Scarlett’s mind. She could see their feelings so vividly, her heart stated racing with whatever fright they were experiencing.
“Something’s wrong.” Scarlett reached across the carriage and opened the window to yell at the driver, “Stop the coach!”
“What’s the matter?” Julian asked.
“I don’t know, but something isn’t right.” She flung open the door as soon as the carriage came to a stop.
Julian followed while she tore across the grass.
The scene looked even more unnatural up close. The only things that moved were the blades of grass around Scarlett’s feet, and the ants. The ants crawled over the Sun Festival feast while the family remained frozen in their endless toast, mouths awkwardly parted and teeth stained with dark purple from whatever they’d been drinking.
“Would Legend do something like this?” Scarlett asked.
“No, he can be cruel, but he’s never this cruel.” Julian frowned as he checked the pulse of the youngest girl. “She’s still alive.”
He continued to search for heartbeats as the family remained eerily still.
“How could someone even do this?” Scarlett scanned the table, as if she might find a bottle of poison hidden among the food. But everything looked perfectly normal—flatbread, long beans, speckled cobs of corn, baskets of fresh sunberries, latticed pig pies, and—
She paused on the butter knives sticking out from the table. Dull, flat metal, the kind of utensils that cut poorly and yet someone had been strong enough to shove the tip of each one through the cloth into the table, pinning a note in place.
“Julian, come look at this.” Scarlett carefully leaned over the feast, not daring to touch the knives or the note as she read aloud.
* * *
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE …
IF THE SUN HASN’T SET, THEY SHOULD ALL STILL BE ALIVE.
BUT ONCE THIS DAY COMES TO AN END,
I’M AFRAID THIS FAMILY WILL ALL BE DEAD.
IF YOU WISH TO STOP THEM FROM TURNING TO STONE,
WHOEVER READS THIS MUST ATONE.
RECALL YOUR LIES AND ACTS DONE OUT OF FEAR,
THEN CONFESS YOUR LATEST MISDEED OUT LOUD FOR ALL TO HEAR.
—POISON
* * *
“It doesn’t even rhyme properly,” Julian grumbled.
“I think you’re missing the point,” Scarlett whispered. She didn’t know if the statues were capable of hearing, but if they were, she didn’t want to scare them with what she was thinking. “Did you see the name at the bottom of the note? There’s a Fate called the Poisoner.”
It wasn’t exactly the same name as Poison, so maybe this wasn’t the work of a Fate. But if it was, it was a terrible sign.
Until recently, Scarlett had never thought much of the Fates—the mythical, ancient beings had always been her sister’s obsessions. But after the Fates had been freed from their cursed Deck of Destiny, Scarlett had peppered Tella with questions, and studied up on them herself.
The Fates were so ancient that most people believed them to be myths that only existed as painted images on Decks of Destiny, which people used to tell fortunes. But they weren’t merely painted images; they were real and had been cursed to live inside a Deck of Destiny for centuries. There wasn’t a great deal of information on what exactly they could do with their powers, but the name the Poisoner seemed rather self-explanatory.
“Do you think this could mean that the Fates are waking?”
“We didn’t think they’d wake up this quickly.” Julian tugged at the knot of his cravat. “It could just be a prank for the Sun Festival.”