Legendary (Caraval #2)(57)

“I never called her that,” Tella argued.

“Yes you did. You said you were curious about her. And since history is my expertise, I can tell you everything you want to know. So, either you can find another expert, or you give me the last memory of your mother. I will allow you one minute to think about it.”

Tella could not give up any memories of her mother. There were too few and they were too precious. But, if the game really was about sacrifice as Armando had said, sacrificing a memory would possibly allow Tella to make future memories with her mother.

And perhaps Tella was better off without that final memory. Ever since finding those cards in her mother’s room Tella had been haunted by them, unable to stop wondering what would have happened if she’d never flipped over the card with the Prince of Hearts or the Maiden Death. Would her mother still have left if the Maiden Death had not predicted her departure? Would she have already fallen in love with someone if she’d never turned over the Prince of Hearts?

“All right,” Tella said. “You can take the last memory I have of my mother.”

“Splendid.” Aiko glided toward the work desk in the back of the shop, appearing a little too eager, which only intensified Tella’s unease as Aiko opened her enchanted notebook to an untouched page of pristine parchment.

“All you must do is place your palm atop the page. Some people actually enjoy the process. Our memories weigh us down more than we realize.”

“Don’t try to convince me you’re doing me a favor.” Tella pressed her hand to the dry paper. It heated against her skin, similar to the sensation she experienced whenever she touched the Aracle, except this warmth went beyond her hand. It crawled up her arm to her neck, coating her like melting butter and turning her head comfortably fuzzy.

“The book needs to access the memory before it can collect it,” Aiko said. But now her voice sounded distant, like someone calling from the other end of a very long corridor.

Tella’s eyes fluttered shut and when they opened again, she was back in her mother’s enchanting suite on Trisda. Her mother was sitting on the floor across from her, clearer than she’d ever been in Tella’s memories.

She smelled of plumeria. A scent Tella thought she’d forgotten. Her father had not allowed the flowers anywhere on his estate after Tella’s mother left, and until this moment Tella had not thought of them for years. She wanted to bury herself in the scent, to wrap her arms around her mother so that she’d never forget it again. But this was only a memory, and Tella could not alter it no matter how much she wished.

Moments ago, before this memory began, her mother had made Tella promise never to touch another Deck of Destiny. That was the memory Tella had expected Aiko to thieve, but this was something different. A recollection buried so deep inside of Tella she’d forgotten it was there. She’d forgotten the way her mother had taken her hands, lifting Tella’s tiny fingers to get a better look at the opal ring Tella had just stolen.

“Oh—what’s this?” Paloma asked.

“I was going to put it back,” Tella promised.

“No, my little love, you should hold on to it for me and keep it safe.” She kissed Tella’s fingers, as if that officially made the ring hers. Her mother always sealed things with kisses; another fact Tella had misplaced.

“Now,” Paloma whispered, “I will tell you a secret about the cards I just put away. The Fates pictured on them once ruled on earth, and when they did they were very unkind and very cruel. They used to trap people in playing cards for sport and entertainment. Only a Fate could free them … unless…”

No. Tella fought to hold on to the memory as it began to fade before her eyes and ears. Her mother’s skin shifted from olive to translucent as her lips formed words that Tella could no longer hear. No. No. No! These were words she needed to hear. The answer she was searching for. She didn’t know what her mother was about to say, but Tella was certain that whatever she’d said next was of vital importance.

Tella clawed at the memory, tried to dig her fingers into it. But the harder Tella fought to keep it, the murkier it became, turning to smoke that couldn’t be held on to at all, and then dissipating into nothing.

When she opened her eyes Tella did not feel as if a weight had been lifted. She felt as if something had been lost. As if she’d been cut, but nothing was bleeding. And nothing seemed to be gone, either. The memory she’d expected Aiko to take was still there, and though Tella had been ready to part with it, she felt relieved it wasn’t gone.

So then why did Tella sense that Aiko had stolen something even more valuable?





24

Aiko’s cursed notebook was now firmly shut, but Tella swore it looked fatter than before. There was even a soft glow about it.

What had she taken?

“Don’t look so glum,” Aiko said. “You’ve just earned a fantastic story about one of Valenda’s most infamous criminals.”

Aiko glided back toward the portraits on the wall. “Before she disappeared, Paradise the Lost was a bit of a legend in this city. People were so enchanted with Paradise, they used to write her letters and ask her to rob them or kidnap them. Paradise the Lost was truly criminal royalty. There were even rumors of princes from other continents sending letters to the lords of the Spice Quarter offering to marry her.”