Finale (Caraval #3)(86)

Across from her, nothing changed; the woman’s emotions were a firestorm of bold and searing colors. The intensity was so extreme it took Scarlett a moment to realize the young woman’s eyes had softened. Then her lips began to move. Until this point her pale mouth had been a thin line, but now it parted as if a silent gasp had escaped at the sight of the Fallen Star.

It was the most extraordinary thing to watch.

The woman fell to her knees, tears glistening in her eyes as if the Fallen Star really were someone she worshipped.

It was beyond what Scarlett had pictured. Scarlett might have believed she’d done it, if not for the hateful colors that continued to cascade from the woman’s shoulders and down her tattooed arms. Thankfully, the Fallen Star couldn’t see them. If he had, his eyes wouldn’t have glittered as he watched the woman kneel before him.

“It’s remarkable. I never thought she’d look at me like this again. Lift your head,” he instructed.

The woman obeyed.

The Fallen Star reached out and stroked her neck, making the woman quiver with what he must have interpreted as pleasure.

His lips formed a flawless sneer. “It’s really too bad your magic is gone and you’re absolutely useless now. Even touching you disgusts me.” He pulled his hand away. “You should get out of my sight before I decide to remove more than your fingers.”

The woman broke into tears.

The Fallen Star laughed, vicious and bright. Scarlett wasn’t certain what she was watching, but she imagined his reaction wasn’t purely from what he perceived as Scarlett’s actions. Somehow he had a history with this woman, and Scarlett sensed it went far beyond cut-off fingers.

“Now that’s gorgeous. She responds as if she really does worship me and I’ve broken her. This is very good, auhtara. You didn’t just make her feel, you’ve given her real feelings. But”—a wrinkle marred his perfect brow—“I don’t sense that you’ve tapped in to your full magic yet. Let’s see what happens when you take them away. I want every hint of love and adoration gone. I want her to feel nothing. Turn her into an emotionless husk.” His voice dripped with cruelty.

Scarlett fought against betraying her disgust, once again focusing her full attention on the woman, as if Scarlett were the one in control of her.

But nothing happened.

If anything, the young woman sobbed harder. She wailed thick, sloppy tears, as if her emotions had gone out of control.

Scarlett didn’t know what the woman was doing. Her true emotions hadn’t ever changed. Her tears weren’t real, but they were effectively infuriating the Fallen Star.

The air in the room grew thick with heat; the walls began to sweat.

He glared at Scarlett. “Make her cease.”

“I can’t,” Scarlett admitted. “I—”

“Stop this or I’ll put a stop to it,” he threatened.

The woman fell face-first onto the floor, hysterical as a child. It echoed off every surface.

The Lady Prisoner covered her ears.

Scarlett furiously tried to project calming thoughts and images. She didn’t have to read the Fallen Star’s emotions to know how destructive he was feeling. He rose from the chair. Flames licked his boots.

“Just give me a minute,” Scarlett pleaded. “I can fix this. I’m learning.”

“That won’t be necessary.” The Fallen Star pulled the woman up from the ground by her neck. And then he snapped it.





THE ALMOST-ENDING





47





Donatella


Tella’s dreams tasted of ink, blood, and unrequited love.

She was inside Legend’s mural. The night smelled of paint, and the spying stars looked like smudges of white gold rather than sparkling orbs. When she looked down, the paint from the moonstone steps stuck to her toes, turning them a glowing white.

She was in the mural’s last scene, standing on the steps outside the Temple of the Stars. But unlike in the painting, Legend was not with her.

There was only Tella and the steps and the godlike statues, which glared down on her as the Maiden Death glided near.

“Go away!” Tella didn’t need another prediction of a lost loved one right now.

“Does that ever work?” asked the Maiden.

“Not usually, but it always feels good to say.”

“You need more in your life that feels good.”

“Thus telling you, the bringer of all doom, to go away.”

The Maiden Death sighed. “You refuse to understand me. I try to prevent the doom, not herald it. But, after tonight I will not come to you again unbidden. For if you do not summon the Assassin and me when you wake, then it will be too late to save your sister or the empire.”

The Maiden Death lunged forward, grabbing Tella’s hands and—



* * *



Tella shot up in bed, drenched in sweat from her head all the way down to the backs of her knees. Her hands were dry, but as soon as she opened them they turned damp.

Two luckless coins rested in her palm, one for the Assassin and the other for the Maiden Death.

Tella jumped out of bed and threw on a robe. She didn’t want to believe the Maiden Death, and she really didn’t want to call for her help. But even if the Maiden Death had not come to her in a dream, Tella would have known something was wrong—she should have been woken up much sooner.