Finale (Caraval #3)(77)
Scarlett didn’t have to pretend to tremble at the words. Because of the Lady Prisoner’s inability to lie, if the Fallen Star did use his flames, then she would be compelled to follow through with her threats. But both Scarlett and the Lady Prisoner had agreed on the risk. If the Fallen Star used his fire, then he would defeat Anissa before she was able to stab him with the broken glass and collect the blood that Scarlett needed.
Gavriel’s sparks disappeared and he crossed the room faster than Scarlett could blink.
She stumbled to the side as the Lady Prisoner shoved her out of the way and sliced the Fallen Star’s throat with her glass.
The cut was bloody and perfect.
Too perfect. But Scarlett wouldn’t realize that until later.
She ran to the Fallen Star as he dropped to his knees and pressed her handkerchief against his bleeding throat to collect his spilling blood as he closed his eyes and died.
It was the ugliest thing Scarlett had ever done. Was this what it was to be a Fate? It lasted less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity before his golden eyes closed and his body went limp. Scarlett couldn’t stop her legs or her hands from shaking. She knew they hadn’t killed him forever, though he deserved it. He’d killed her mother and countless others. Still, it felt wrong.
And Scarlett was already imagining what the Fallen Star would do in his fury when he did come back to life. She needed to move quickly.
She dripped blood across the marble floors as she ran to the bathing room with the bloodied cloth to squeeze the Fallen Star’s blood into a vial. Why, why hadn’t she thought to hide the vial somewhere on her person to have right at his throat?
Drip. Drip.
It was taking too long to fill the vial.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“What are you doing with that, auhtara?”
Scarlett’s eyes shot up to the bathing room mirror, her trembling limbs turning to liquid. The Fallen Star stood behind her like a bronze statue that had been sliced open. His skin was pale as the dead and his neck was still bloody, but he was very much alive. Had he been pretending? Or did he just recover that fast?
He knocked the vial to the ground, shattering the glass, and wrapped a hand around her throat, choking off her air. “Disappointed I’m not dead?”
“Please,” Scarlett rasped. “I—I only took the blood because I thought if I drank it then maybe it would help me finally conquer my magic.”
“Then you should have just asked. I would have given it to you, auhtara. But now I have to give you something else instead.” His fingers squeezed her throat again and her world went dark.
* * *
When Scarlett woke later on, her head felt too heavy to move, and there was something tight around her neck, grating against her skin.
“The cage will probably take a while to get used to.” The Fallen Star’s voice held a hint of diversion.
Scarlett’s eyes flashed open to a world of red. There were vertical rows of ruby-red beads fitted around her head—he’d imprisoned her in a cage. A sob shook her chest. She tried to rip it off; her fingers tore at the gems, tried to bend their bars and rip them off, but they were ineffectual, and soon she was weeping too hard to do anything else.
The Fallen Star reached in between the ruby bars to stroke Scarlett’s damp cheek. “Don’t betray me again. My punishment won’t be so kind next time.”
* * *
The memory faded as Scarlett looked in her vanity mirror. The ruby cage encasing her head looked like the bloody cousin to the cage worn by the Maiden Death. But rather than looking powerful like that Fate always did in Decks of Destiny, Scarlett thought that she looked entirely powerless. She hadn’t been able to sleep wearing it, so there were deep circles beneath her eyes, and since her hair had been down when he’d put it on, strands of her dark hair stuck to her throat, held in place by the unmoving collar of the cage.
Anissa had tried to tell her it was pretty, and that it matched her scarlet earrings. They’d once been a treasured gift from her mother. Your father gave these to me, she said, because scarlet was my favorite color. They used to make Scarlett think that Marcello Dragna, the father who’d raised her, had once been a better man. But, Scarlett realized, her mother must have been referring to the Fallen Star.
Scarlett tried not to think about her mother. But for once, she wished she could go back in time to talk to her and ask her what to do.
Scarlett hadn’t contacted Julian and her sister. She’d been too ashamed and embarrassed to slip them a note letting them know that she’d failed in getting the blood, and she didn’t want them to see her like this, even for a second. Scarlett knew that she had to be even more careful now. She couldn’t risk using the Reverie Key unless it was an emergency.
She couldn’t make another mistake and she couldn’t run away. If Scarlett wanted to save herself and everyone else before the Fallen Star took the throne the day after tomorrow, she had only one choice left: to conquer her power and use it to make him love her.
She took a deep breath and left her bedchamber to meet him.
Tonight, he was dressed in brown leather pants, a loose white shirt, and a pale gold cape that matched the victorious gleam in his eyes. He’d been in an excellent mood ever since he’d placed the cage around Scarlett’s head; he liked being able to demonstrate just how much power he had over her. But tonight he appeared almost boyish in his excitement.