Finale (Caraval #3)(82)

She loved the way he teased her, and she didn’t want him to ever stop. She wanted to hear the rest of his stories—and to become a part of those stories. But more than any of those things, she wanted to forever be by his side, whether he was with her as she was fighting a nightmare or chasing a dream, or if it was the other way around, and she was helping him achieve a new dream. Even if that meant sacrificing one of her dreams.

Maybe that was love. All this time, she’d wanted him to love her, and she’d hurt knowing that he hadn’t, but maybe she hadn’t really been loving him. She’d chosen him, she’d fought for him, she’d felt for him, but she hadn’t been willing to sacrifice what she wanted for him.

Tella started running toward the coast, racing back toward Legend’s house, her heart beating faster when she was finally near enough to hear the crashing ocean waves. It was past the middle of the night, on its way to dawn but not there yet. It was that peculiar period of time that wasn’t quite night or morning, but something in between.

If Scarlett had been there, she would have urged Tella to think on it longer. But what if Tella didn’t have time to waste? That week alone she’d seen her mother murdered, Legend die, her sister kidnapped, and the empire overrun by Fates. She couldn’t even imagine what the coming days would bring if the Fallen Star ascended to the throne. But she’d rather go through them knowing that no matter what, she had a present and a future—a forever—with Legend.

Tella slipped inside the house and quickly darted into a bathing room to wash the blood from her hands. She thought about putting on a new dress as well. The mirror showed a girl with wild curls and a hastily thrown on sapphire-blue gown, but Tella was too impatient to change.

She raced up staircase after staircase. By the time she reached the fourth floor, she was breathless. The hallway leading to Legend’s room was dim with night, but she could see delicate strands of light sneaking out of the cracks beneath his door.

She knocked softly. Then a little louder.

Somewhere in the distance, waves were still crashing, but there was no sound coming from inside Legend’s room.

She tried the doorknob, not actually expecting that someone as private or secretive as Legend would keep his door unlocked. But the glass knob turned easily.

Tella felt a thrill race across her shoulders. She’d never been in any of his private rooms. Not during Caraval, not at the palace, not since he’d brought her to any of his houses. She was almost positive he’d cast an illusion over her own bedroom to suit her tastes. But as she entered his rooms, the only glamour she saw was the light.

There wasn’t a single lit candle in sight, yet globes of soft yellow and white lights danced around, making everything glow.

From where she stood, Tella could see his illuminated bedroom and his sitting room. His suite was well appointed, but simpler than she would have expected. Before knowing him, she might have imagined Legend’s sitting room lined with sumptuous red velvet curtains and full of low cushions for seductive rendezvous. But there wasn’t a speck of velvet in sight. There weren’t any low cushions or curtains, either. Impeccable floor-to-ceiling windows provided a spellbinding view of the ocean while letting waxy moonlight slide over the ebony floors, the neat desk, the full bookshelves, and the wide charcoal couches.

Everything looked so perfect, Tella imagined she might smudge it if she stepped fully into the room. She tiptoed past into what was clearly Legend’s bedroom.

His bed took up nearly half the space, and with its heavy iron frame and black silk sheets, it was exactly what she would have expected. Legend lay in the middle of it; his shirt was gone and he was on his stomach, sheets low enough to reveal the exquisite wings tattooed on his beautiful back.

Tella couldn’t have held back her smile. She knew many of his other tattoos had disappeared, but she’d so badly wanted this one to be real.

The wings were as mesmerizing as she remembered. Soulless jet-black with midnight-blue veins the color of lost wishes and fallen stardust. And they were one of her favorite things about him. She itched to reach down and trace them, to run her fingers down his spine and wake him up. But while she’d shared countless dreams with Legend, she’d never seen him sleep, and she was curious.

Her eyes left the wings and trailed to his face. It looked as if he’d fallen asleep while reading. One bronzed hand held a book near his slumbering head, while hair black as raven feathers fell across his forehead. It was a very human pose, and yet his skin faintly glowed with inhuman light. He looked perfect and tempting, and in that moment Tella felt like a girl from a fairy tale who’d stumbled upon a sleeping god that would give her a prize if she woke him with a kiss.

And she was tempted to do just that, to sweep his hair back and press her lips to his brow, when something behind him caught her attention. She’d been so drawn to seeing Legend asleep on his own bed that she hadn’t even noticed the enormous mural painted on the wall behind it.

Tella took a couple steps away to take it all in. Haunting and bright and sad all at once, the artwork almost covered the entire wall.

From the distance, it looked like an overwhelming picture of a night sky on fire. But as she drew closer again, Tella could see that this wasn’t a depiction of sky or fire, but a series of smaller images; a kaleidoscope of stars and night and hourglasses, hot-air balloons and top hats, skulls and roses, death and canals, waterfalls of tears and blood and ruins and riches. It was beauty and horror and pain and longing.