Legendary (Caraval #2)(2)

“I wondered if I’d find you in here, my little love.” Her mother’s soft soprano filled the room as she swept inside. “What adventures are you having today?”

As her mother bent toward the carpet where Tella sat, her hair fell around her clever face in elegant rivers. Her mother’s locks were the same dark brown as Scarlett’s, but Tella shared her mother’s olive skin, which gleamed as if she’d been kissed by the stars. Though just then Tella watched her mother turn moonstone pale as her eyes latched on to the upturned images of the Maiden Death and the Prince of Hearts.

“Where did you find these?” Her mother’s sweet voice remained, but her hands swiftly snatched the cards, giving Tella the impression she’d done something very wrong. And while Tella often did things she wasn’t supposed to, usually her mother didn’t mind. She’d gently correct her daughter, or occasionally tell her how to get away with her little crimes. It was her father who was easily angered. Her mother was the soft breath of air that blew out his sparks before they could ignite into flames. But now her mother looked as if she wanted to start a fire and use the cards for kindling.

“I found them in your jewelry box,” Tella said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were bad.”

“It’s all right.” Her mother ran a hand over Tella’s curls. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But even I don’t like to touch these cards.”

“Then why do you have them?”

Her mother concealed the cards inside the skirts of her gown before setting the box on a high shelf by the bed, beyond Tella’s reach.

Tella feared the conversation was over—as it undoubtedly would have been with her father. But her mother didn’t ignore questions from her daughters. Once the box was tucked safely away, her mother folded herself onto the carpet beside Tella.

“I wish I’d never found these cards,” she whispered, “but I will tell you about them if you swear to never touch this deck, or another deck like this, again.”

“I thought you told Scarlett and I never to swear.”

“This is different.” A corner of her mother’s smile returned, as though Tella was being let in on a very special secret. It was always this way: when her mother chose to focus her glittering attention on Tella alone, she made Tella feel as if she were a star and the world revolved around only her. “What have I always told you about the future?”

“Every person has the power to write her own,” Tella said.

“That’s right,” her mother said. “Your future can be whatever you wish. We all have the power to choose our own destiny. But, my sweet, if you play with those cards, you give the Fates pictured inside them the opportunity to shift your path. People use Decks of Destiny, similar to the one you just touched, to predict the future, and once a future is foretold, that future becomes a living thing, and it will fight very hard to bring itself about. This is why I need you to never touch those cards again. Do you understand?”

Tella nodded, though she didn’t truly understand; she was still at that tender age when the future seemed too far away to be real. It also did not escape her notice that her mother never said where the cards came from. And that made Tella’s fingers clench a little tighter around the one still in her hand.

In her haste to pick up the deck, Tella’s mother hadn’t noticed the third card Tella had turned over. The one still in her possession. The Aracle. Tella carefully hid it beneath her crisscrossed legs as she said, “I swear to never touch a deck like this again.”





ISLA DE

LOS SUE?OS





1

Tella was no longer floating.

She was on the damp ground, feeling far, far away from the bright, sparkly thing she’d been the evening before. Back when Legend’s private isle had radiated amber-tipped light, which breathed enchantment and wonder, along with a hint of deception. A delectable combination. And Tella had reveled in it. During the party to celebrate the end of Caraval, she had danced until her slippers were stained with grass and sipped flutes of bubbly wine until she’d practically floated.

But now she was facedown on the cold, hard forest floor.

Not daring to open her eyes, she groaned and brushed bits of nature from her hair, wishing some of the other remnants from last night could be as easily swept away. Everything reeked of stale liquor, pine needles, and mistakes. Her skin itched and crawled, and the only thing worse than the spinning in her head was the twisted soreness in her back and neck. Why had she thought falling asleep outside was a brilliant idea?

“Argh.” Someone grunted the not-quite-satisfied sound of a person on the verge of waking up.

Tella opened her eyes, peered to the side, and then closed her lids immediately. Dirty saints.

She was not alone.

Amid the towering trees and the untamed greens of the forest floor, Tella had flashed open her eyes just long enough to glimpse a dark head of hair, bronzed skin, a scarred wrist, and a boy’s hand covered with a black rose tattoo. Dante.

It all rushed back in a surge of blurry memories. The feeling of Dante’s experienced hands wrapped around her hips. His kisses on her neck, her jaw, then her mouth as their lips became intimately acquainted.

What in all the hells had she been thinking?

Of course, Tella knew exactly what her thoughts had been during the Caraval performers’ party the night before. The world had tasted like magic and starshine, like granted wishes and dreams come true, yet beneath it all, death still coated Tella’s tongue. No matter how much champagne she drank, or how warm the air grew from dancing, Tella still shivered from the chilling recollection of how it had felt to die.