Legendary (Caraval #2)(100)

It always felt like the urge to cry mingled with the need to laugh; the kind of happiness that was almost painful. It pressed against Tella’s chest, making it hard to breathe and difficult to form words. And it should have been even more potent now that her mother was returned.

She lay atop Scarlett’s bed, as peaceful as a doomed damsel in distress, all pale cheeks, dark hair, and unnaturally red lips. Tella tried not to be concerned by the exaggerated colors of her mother’s lips and skin, reminding herself that for years she’d been a painting on a card, not a woman.

Her mother was now free, and it was because of Tella. That victory alone should have given Tella wings to soar around the room, out the window, and over the glass courtyard below. But the idea of wings made Tella think of a pair of wings tattooed on a beautiful back. Which then conjured thoughts of the one person she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. Legend.

Her veins heated at the thought of his name.

She had no idea where he’d gone after he’d left her on the steps outside of the Temple of the Stars. And she didn’t want to wonder about it. She didn’t want to replay every encounter she’d had with him, every word he’d said to her, every look he’d given her, or every kiss they’d shared. Each memory hurt, behind her eyes, in her lungs, and in her throat, growing uncomfortably tight whenever she recalled their last moment together.

It felt like weakness to keep thinking of him. Tella knew she’d have had to be completely unfeeling to have banished him from her thoughts after all they’d experienced. And Tella never wanted to be unfeeling. But she didn’t want to be consumed with him, either.

The only way to stop her thoughts of him was to keep focusing on her mother, who was there and would eventually wake up.

Tella was still stunned Jacks had kept his promise and returned Paloma to her. Maybe he was in love with Tella after all. She was his one true love. Although Tella imagined that being the object of a Fate’s affections was a dangerous thing. But she wasn’t worrying about the Fates for now. Jacks had made it clear that it would take the Fates longer than it would take her mother to wake up.

Tella wiped Paloma’s head with a cool cloth, not that it made any difference. Her mother didn’t have a fever. But Tella felt better if she was doing something.

“She doesn’t look as if she’s aged at all since she left,” Scarlett said. “It’s not natural.”

“I’m fairly certain nothing about being imprisoned in a card is natural,” Tella said.

This earned her a deeper frown.

As soon as the sisters had reached the palace the night before, Tella had fallen asleep in her sister’s bed. She’d woken up when Jacks had returned with her very unconscious mother. He hadn’t mentioned where he’d found her, but he’d let something slip about how she’d been trapped inside of a card and how Tella had made a great sacrifice to save her.

Tella had hoped this would be one of those occasions where her sister would choose to ignore the subject of their mother. But it’s rather difficult to ignore someone when they’re lying in the room looking cursed. Scarlett had questioned Tella relentlessly, until she’d confessed everything.

Scarlett had not handled most of it well, especially the bit about Tella taking their mother’s place inside of a card. After begging Tella never to risk something like that again, Scarlett had turned her anger on their mother; she couldn’t look at Paloma without scowling.

Tella couldn’t blame her sister. Underneath all the anger, Tella detected that Scarlett harbored a fair amount of guilt for being unaware of so many of the things that went on during Caraval, and that the game was very real this time. Though none of it was Scarlett’s fault. And surprisingly, Tella couldn’t bring herself to regret anything she’d done. Though she wished she hadn’t fallen so far for Legend, which thankfully her sister wasn’t mentioning.

Tella was curious to know if Julian had told Scarlett that Dante was Legend, since his identity seemed to be the one thing Tella was physically incapable of talking about. Scarlett had shared with Tella that she was giving Julian another chance. Sensitive to Tella’s current feelings about Legend and Caraval, Scarlett had not gone into too many details about it. But Tella imagined her sister wouldn’t have completely forgiven Julian unless he gave her more than a few smoldering looks and kisses, which made Tella suspect her sister was more aware of Legend’s true identity than she’d let on the night before.

“What if we play a game,” Tella suggested. “Do you have a deck of regular cards?” She opened the drawer of the nightstand next to Scarlett’s bed.

“Don’t!” Scarlett leaped up.

If she hadn’t reacted so strongly, Tella might have shut the drawer without looking too hard. But the minute Scarlett shouted, Tella’s interest intensified.

There was a book inside the drawer, a fancy red leather thing, with an equally fine-looking letter poking out from beneath it.

“What’s this?” Tella plucked the note from under the book. It was addressed to Scarlett. Tella didn’t recognize the return address but she was familiar with the name above it: Count Nicolas d’Arcy.

Tella sat there, speechless, because she didn’t think shouting was a good idea.

Scarlett’s entire face was pink. “I can explain.”

“I thought you were giving Julian another chance.”