Finale (Caraval #3)(29)

Scarlett didn’t say a word, but tears streamed down her cheeks, more tears than Tella would have expected, given her rocky feelings toward their mother. Tella felt as if she should have been there to try to soothe them instead of Julian, but again she feared that it would only make her cry, too.

Then warmth encircled Tella as Scarlett broke away from Julian and folded her arms around her sister. Scarlett’s chest shook, but her arms were unshakable, holding Tella impossibly tight, the same way Scarlett had that day after their mother had first disappeared.

Tella shuddered against her sister, but she didn’t fall to pieces as she had feared. Their mother had once told them there was nothing like the love of a sister, and this was one of the moments where Tella could feel that truth. She could feel her sister loving her twice as much as before, trying to heal the wound her mother’s death had left. It was too soon for it to heal, and Tella didn’t know if the hurt would ever completely mend. But Scarlett’s love reminded her that while some things never healed, other things grew stronger.

“Maybe we should leave and give them some time alone,” Julian whispered to Legend.

“No,” Tella said, breaking away from Scarlett. “I don’t want to grieve now. I’ll grieve after the Fallen Star is dead.”

“We have to stop the other Fates as well,” Scarlett added with a sniff. “We can’t let anyone else suffer like this, or like the people we saw yesterday.”

“What did you see yesterday?” Tella asked.

“A family that was petrified by the Poisoner.”

“Though we weren’t certain it was him, or that the Fates were really waking up, until now,” added Julian.

“But you suspected it—that’s why you sent guards for me?” Tella turned to Legend, but if he had actually been concerned about her safety, and not just jealous of Jacks, it didn’t show. Legend’s expression had shuttered, and any trace of gentleness or tenderness had vanished from his handsome face.

“Did you see any other Fates when you were with Jacks?” he asked. “Do you know who he’s working with right now?”

“No,” Tella said.

She might have said more. She might have told them where Jacks was and what he was doing in his gambling den; she was certain they were all curious. But Jacks wasn’t the real enemy now. The Fallen Star was, and according to the witch, there was only one weakness that would allow him to be killed—and Legend shared that same weakness.

“I think we need to worry less about Jacks—who actually helped me last night—and more about the Fallen Star. What is the Fallen Star’s weakness?”

“I don’t know,” Legend said.

“Yes, you do.” Tella kept her eyes fixed on his. Earlier, his gaze had been full of stars, but now his eyes were soulless jet-black with midnight-blue veins, the same colors as the wings that Dante had tattooed on his back. How had she ever thought Legend was only Dante? Tella should have known from his eyes alone. Eyes didn’t change color. Pupils might dilate and whites might turn yellow or red, but irises didn’t change the way that his did.

“Don’t lie to me, Legend. Esmeralda told you that the Fallen Star’s weakness is the same as yours.”

Legend’s eyes flashed—gold-white. Lines briefly formed around them, as if he were smiling, but they were there and gone so fast, Tella wondered if she imagined it. Amusement was not the response she’d expected.

“What she said was useless,” Legend answered, something like bitterness clouding his tone. “If we want to defeat the Fallen Star and have a chance at killing the Fates, we have to find another weakness.”

“Wait—you went to see Esmeralda?” The shock on Julian’s face made it clear that Tella wasn’t the only one from whom Legend kept his extracurricular activities secret.

“Who’s Esmeralda?” Scarlett asked, looking between them.

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” chimed a new voice, as Jovan entered the glimmering hall. She was one of Legend’s most welcoming performers, but she was perhaps also the most difficult of all of them to read. She was always smiling. Always friendly, always cheerful. Since no one could possibly be that happy all the time, Tella sometimes imagined Jovan’s grins were just another piece of the costume she wore during Caraval.

But Jovan wasn’t smiling today. Her dark brown face looked uncharacteristically stern as she approached Legend. In one of their dreams, Legend had told Tella that most of his performers had taken on roles in the palace when the last Caraval had ended and he’d been declared the heir. Jovan appeared to be a high-ranking guard, dressed in a navy military coat with gold tassels on the shoulders that matched the gold lines striping her pants.

“Sir, may I speak with you for a moment? There’s been another incident.”





16





Donatella


Hairline cracks formed along the edges of Legend’s illusionary windows. “Which Fate?”

“The Poisoner again. He turned an entire wedding party to stone near Idyllwild Castle. They’re fine now,” Jovan added quickly. “But the person who saved them isn’t. The Poisoner left a note saying that the party would only become human again once someone willingly took their place. The bride’s sister sacrificed herself.”