Finale (Caraval #3)(27)

“You have no right to keep me locked up!” Tella cried out.

A heavy door groaned open at the end of the torch-lit hall, followed by the confident beat of boots, which she knew too well. Legend wasn’t crowned yet, but he already moved like an emperor stepping into a throne room.

Tella’s eyes trailed upward from his tall black boots to the fitted black trousers hugging his muscular legs. His shirt was also black, but it was accented with a vest covered in thin wolf-gray lines that matched the cravat at his throat and the lapels of his velvet coat. The coat was the rich royal color of blackberries—a shade she’d never seen him in. But he wore the color well; it complemented his bronze skin tone, and made his hair look even blacker and his eyes look even brighter, bringing out flecks of gold that reminded her of stars at night.

No wonder they’d already started creating statues of him around the city. He might have been a liar and a villain, but he made both things look very good.

The other cells were empty, but he didn’t even glance at them, and Tella had the impression that Legend wouldn’t have darted his eyes around even if the cells had been full of deadly criminals. He moved like nothing in the human world could hurt him. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder. According to the witch, he only had one weakness, and Tella doubted it was in this dungeon.

She couldn’t believe she’d chased him into another world because she’d thought he was in danger. Even though he could have been telling the truth about losing some of his powers, she should have known that he’d do whatever it took to get them back.

“Let me out of here, you bastard!”

“I think I preferred Your Highness.” He continued his elegant walk toward her, moving with unrushed strides down the dim hall. Someone else might have thought he didn’t have any particularly strong feelings about their current situation. But Tella had spent the last two months sharing dreams with him. She was aware of his movements—aware of him. She noticed the tic in his jaw as he slowly raked her over, eyes traveling from her bare feet to her naked calves. His gaze tightened as he reached her skirt with all its ripped-up feathers. But instead of making a mocking comment, Tella saw lines form across his brow, as if he was trying to puzzle something out.

Was it possible he didn’t know that she’d followed him to see the witch? And if that was the case, then why had he locked her up?

She glowered at him when his probing gaze traveled from her neck, to her lips, and then—finally—her eyes.

The dungeon suddenly grew very warm. His gaze was still tight and dark, but it was edged in heat that she felt all the way down to her toes.

For months Tella had pondered what it would be like when they met again outside of her dreams. She wondered if he’d touch her at last, if he’d apologize for leaving her on the steps in front of the Temple of the Stars. Once she’d even imagined him asking her to be his empress. She almost laughed at that thought now, but she was wholly serious when she said, “Just because you’re going to be emperor doesn’t mean you can lock me up without reason.”

The corner of his mouth slowly lifted into an arrogant tilt. “Actually, it does. But I didn’t mean for you to be arrested. I only told my guards to collect you and bring you to me once you were found.” His voice was cool, even. Again, another person might not have picked up on the way his sentences turned razor-sharp right at the ends. He was definitely angry, and angry with her.

Tella couldn’t believe it. Her mother was dead. The Fates were awake. Her sister had been kidnapped. His guards had locked her up, and yet Legend kept looking at her as if she was the one who’d done something wrong.

“What crime have I committed?”

“I told you, I didn’t have you arrested. I know how you feel about cages. I was only trying to find you.”

“Did you really have to use your guards?” She tried to keep her voice as even as his was, but it was difficult. She could feel Jacks’s spell cracking. Her chest was tight and her head was pounding. And Legend still hadn’t unlocked her cell door. “If you’d wanted to find me, why didn’t you just visit me in my dreams and ask me where I was?”

A quick clench of his jaw. “I tried to.”

“Then why couldn’t you?” Tella said. Shortly after he’d first showed up in her dreams, he’d taught her how to control parts of them—little tricks to change what she wore and larger tricks in case she didn’t want certain people entering her dreams. But even when she’d been mad at Legend, she’d always let him in. “I wasn’t keeping you out.”

“I know. But something else was.”

Tella didn’t see Legend move—he must have used his magic to hide what he was doing—but suddenly the door between them was open, and Legend was holding something in his hands—two pieces of confetti, one shaped like a spade and the other shaped like a heart.

A sharp memory returned to Tella: Jacks carrying her through his gambling den as card-suit confetti fell from the ceiling. Was this why Legend was mad at her, because she’d been with Jacks?

“Where were you last night, Donatella?”

Again, she hadn’t seen him move, but he was now farther away, leaning against the bars opposite her cell, making it clear that even though they were outside of her dreams, some of the rules hadn’t changed. He was still keeping his distance.