Legendary (Caraval #2)(93)

Without so much as grazing a swirl, Tella placed the Aracle atop the deck. Then she retrieved the card imprisoning her mother from where she’d tucked it safely inside her dress.

The halo around the cards pulsed darker, as if adding additional cards had somehow made the deck more powerful.

Tella ignored the ill feeling that came with it. She exhaled, breathing out the heavy press against her chest that warned her to stop. She was almost there. All she needed to do now was pick up the deck and win the game. Then she could have her mother back.

Her hand hovered above the tiny stack, wondering how long it would take Legend to find her. Dante must have told Legend that the cards were in the temple. There was a chance Legend was already waiting on the steps. And Nigel had promised, If you win Caraval, the first face you see will be Legend’s.

Tella took a deep breath. If this was going to work, she needed to summon Jacks before she officially won the game or stepped out of the stars’ temple. She reached into the pocket of her silver gown, fingers fumbling for his luckless coin.

Theron’s voice instantly flooded the vault. “Do not use that vile magic here, or I will close this door and you will never get out.”

Tella ripped her hand free from her dress. Her fingers trembled.

She should have summoned Jacks before she’d stepped inside. Being unable to call him now felt like another chance to change her mind. But Tella’s decision was made. Once she took the cards and stepped out of the vault, there would be no turning back. She’d just have to be quick to grab the luckless coin.

But she was still taking a risk. Once she stepped outside of this temple, every Fate and person trapped inside the cards would either be released by Jacks once he took his full power back from Legend—or all the Fates along with Tella’s mother would be destroyed by Legend if Jacks did not arrive quickly enough.

The world was about change. Either all the Fates and Tella’s mother would go free, or Legend would destroy them and become the most powerful human in the world.

No wonder the stars had blinked earlier that night. Tella imagined them doing it again as she reached into the wooden box, boldly picked up her mother’s cursed Deck of Destiny, and officially won Caraval.





39

Tella’s heart raced as she exited the sanctuary. After everything that night it should have run out of beats, but it managed to pound faster as the cool evening air whipped around her face and rustled the silvery leaves of her dress. Ignoring the chill, her hand dove into her pocket once more for Jacks’s luckless coin.

“Tella—” A low, achingly familiar voice, called from the base of the steps, followed by the echo of Dante’s heavy footfalls.

She froze.

If you win Caraval, the first face you see will be Legend’s.

No. No. No.

Tella quickly shut her eyes before she could see him. Maybe if she didn’t open her eyes he’d walk away, she’d see another face, and Dante wouldn’t be Legend.

She heard him climb closer. Boots heavy and eager against the stairs.

“I thought you were meeting me after midnight,” she called.

“I had a feeling you’d be here early.” His voice was a little closer.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“Tella, look at me.” Another step. Then she felt the heady warmth that always seemed to surround him. It pressed against her shoulders and chest, as if he were standing right in front her. “I can’t talk to you like this.”

She kept her eyes firmly closed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d suspected Dante was Legend, but she wasn’t supposed to be right.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. “I want to talk to Legend.”

“Then open your eyes and speak to me.”

Her legs gave out.

His arms snaked around her, keeping her steady while the world she knew broke into pieces.

Dante was Legend.

Legend was Dante.

And he was still holding on to her. One hand left her waist, moving upward until his fingers gently brushed her cheek before resting beneath her chin and tilting her face toward his. She could feel his words against his lips as he spoke. “Tella, say something.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he was so close all she could feel were his lips touching hers. They were soft and parted and then they were pressing more firmly against her mouth.

She didn’t even want to try to resist him. But it was so much more than that.

They kissed as if the world were ending, lips crashing together as if the heavens were breaking and the ground was crumbling, as if a war raged all around them and this kiss was the only thing mighty enough to stop it. As long as they kissed, only she and Dante existed.

Tella never wanted to open her eyes; as soon as she did, the world would shift. Dante would be gone and there would only be Legend.

It was so brutally unfair. She’d only just decided how much she wanted Dante, but even if he made it through the night, Legend was someone she could never have. He was like a moment in time; he could be experienced but never held on to.

His lips pressed harder as one hand threaded through her hair and the other went lower around her hips, digging in and pulling her closer, as if he didn’t want the kiss to end, either.

But it had to stop. No matter how good of a distraction it was. The longer it lasted, the more danger she was in.