Finale (Caraval #3)(72)
Tella spied an untouched statue of the Prince of Hearts as they searched the scorched Temple districts for symbols of the library. The statue bore little resemblance to Jacks. Its face looked much kinder. Its cheeks were round instead of hollow. Its smile looked impish rather than evil, and its lips didn’t appear quite so sharp.
Legend pressed a warm hand to the small of her back. He hadn’t stopped touching her since the day before. It would have been smarter to separate, at least by a few feet, as they searched for symbols to lead them into the library. But it seemed Legend had adopted a new strategy when it came to winning Tella. “Ready to move on, sweetheart?”
Tella narrowed her eyes.
Legend gave her an amazed smile. “What about ‘dear heart,’ or ‘angel’?”
“I think we can both agree I’m far from an angel. And you’re not going to convince me to become an immortal with a term of endearment.” She pulled away, but he quickly grabbed the sash around her waist and wound it around his fist to draw her close. It was cloudburst-blue, the same color as her striped dress. Yesterday’s drab clothes hadn’t kept them unnoticed, so Tella opted for prettier attire today.
“You’re right, I think ‘little devil’ is more fitting.” He kept reeling her to him, dark eyes full of laughter. He didn’t seem worried that the world around them was literally crumbling—he looked at her as if she was all that mattered.
“Please tell me I’m interrupting something,” Jacks drawled as he stepped out from behind the Bleeding Throne fountain directly across from them. The basin was dry—its crimson waters probably used to put out fires—leaving behind bits of cracked red that would have normally matched Jacks’s haphazard attire. But for once, the Prince of Hearts looked immaculate. His golden hair was neatly tied back, his clothes were pressed, his boots were polished, and his tailored white suit was the color people usually associated with angels.
Legend instantly moved in front of Tella like a shield.
Jacks’s pale lips fell into a frown. “I’m not here to make any threats—I keep my vows. I just have a gift for Donatella.”
“I don’t want any gifts from you,” she spat.
Jacks tugged at his cravat, dissolving his impeccable appearance with one frustrated pull. “I know you hate me again, but hopefully this will prove that I’m not really your enemy.” He held out a bound scroll of paper. “This is why you haven’t been able to find the Immortal Library.”
Tella pointedly ignored the scroll. “We’re done making deals with you.”
“There’s no deal involved. Consider this gift my apology.” Jacks’s eyes slowly met hers. Today, they were a brilliant blue with threads of bloodshot red, as if he were so torn up he hadn’t slept. But Tella knew that was a lie since he’d appeared in her dreams. “Even if you don’t want to accept it, it’s what you need if you want to find the Immortal Library. You can only locate the library if you’ve been there before, or if you use the Map of All.”
The scroll began to glow in Jacks’s hands—just like the Fates often did.
Tella tried not to look at it. The Map of All was a Fated object, similar to the Reverie Key, but instead of finding people, it located places. It was said that if a person touched the map, it would lead that person to the place they wanted to find most—even if that location was in another realm. It could reveal hidden portals, and doors to other worlds. It was priceless and mythic, and made other treasures feel as thin as slips of paper.
It was difficult to resist the urge to grab it right out of Jacks’s hands. “We don’t need your map.”
“But we’ll take it,” Legend said. With one lightning-quick move, the rolled map was in his hand.
Tella expected a protest from Jacks, but he merely placed his pale hands in his pockets. “I hope you can now find what you’re looking for.” He gave Tella a final look, meeting her gaze with sad, hooded eyes and so much sincerity he could have been a picture of a saint on a confessional wall.
But while she could believe he was upset that she hated him again, she doubted he truly regretted what he’d done. Tella had no doubts that Jacks wanted her, but wanting someone wasn’t the same as loving them, and yesterday he’d proved that he wanted his powers even more than he wanted her.
Jacks walked away without another word.
Legend unbound the map. His face was aloof, but the quickness with which he unrolled the scroll betrayed a hint of his eagerness at possessing the Fated object, despite its unsavory source.
The paper was a bland shade of oatmeal, but Tella watched as it shifted in Legend’s fingers. It started out blank, but as he held on to it, a spot of dark blue ink appeared. It grew into the smoldering remains of the Temple District, sketched piles of ash forming alongside statues of Fates. Tella saw the Prince of Hearts statue and the Bleeding Throne fountain. Then she appeared. First her untamed ringlets took shape, followed by her heart-shaped face, and her striped gown with its sweetheart neckline and tiny cap sleeves.
She waited for a rendering of Legend to materialize next, but all that showed up was a tiny star at her feet.
She was where Legend wanted to be.
“Don’t look so surprised.” He flashed a crooked smile, eyes filling with the same teasing look he’d given her earlier when he’d called her sweetheart. But she noticed that he didn’t even brush her finger as he handed her the magical map.