Legendary (Caraval #2)(32)
“No!” Tella objected, right as Jacks raised his voice above hers to announce, “Since it seems I’ve momentarily stolen everyone’s attention, now would probably be a good time to share some excellent news.”
As if the partygoers were puppets or part of an orchestrated dance, each of their coiffed heads angled his way.
“Many of you know my former fiancée, Alessandra, died late last year. Her death was a great loss to the Empire, one I thought I’d never recover from. But as you can see, I’ve found someone else, someone who I hope you will all adore as much as I do. Meet my new fiancée, Donatella.”
The room filled with applause and fresh clouds of stardust as the performers above tossed sparkling paper stars onto the scrambling people below.
To Tella’s eyes it all looked like ash.
Her own smile had never felt so wrong as she forced her lips to curve for the crowd.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
“Have I been unfair?” Jacks murmured. “I gave you what you asked for, now I want what I’m owed.”
“Oh, look!” someone cried. “The falling stars! They’re the first clue.”
The ballroom erupted into even more chaos. Some of the falling stars were clues, but it seemed others were full of nothing save for dazzling dust, which filled the cage with fantastic shimmering clouds when touched by the partygoers.
Caraval’s games had truly begun. As everyone around her reached for falling stars, Tella thought of all the times she and Scarlett had dreamed about Caraval, about Legend. Now Tella had to win the game or she would never dream again. And she doubted her sister would either. Tella had promised Scarlett she’d be careful, but already Tella had failed her.
The edge of Jacks’s poisonous mouth twitched. “You should take one of the clues, my love.”
“Don’t call me—”
“Careful, darling.” Quick as a snake, he pressed two firm fingers to Tella’s bruised lips. “You don’t want to destroy the beautiful deception we’ve just created. Now,” he said sweetly, “give my fingers a kiss for everyone still watching.”
Tella bit them instead. They tasted like frost and wishes gone wrong.
She expected him to pull away, for his sharp face to fill with color and his words to turn ugly and angry. But Jacks just left his cold fingers in her mouth, pressing them against her teeth and her tongue. Her stomach filled with lead, as something purely evil shimmered in his unearthly eyes.
“I’ll let you get away with this for now, but this is my last mercy.” He brushed his fingers over the spot where he’d bitten her lip, before pulling them from her mouth. “If you do not win Caraval and bring me Legend before Elantine’s Day, you’ll learn just how deadly my kisses really are.”
*
Up until that accursed night, Tella had loved glitter. As a little girl she’d often stolen tiny bottles of it from shops, imagining one might contain real dust from the stars, full of magic able to grant her wishes, or turn dirt into diamonds. But none of the bottles had been enchanted, and the glitter from the ball wasn’t real stardust, either, just pulverized glass. By the time the bells cried out three in the morning and she climbed into the sky coach with Jacks, it didn’t even sparkle; it clung like a parasite to her arms and the parts of her gown where flowers had once been.
You should have brought me Legend’s name.
Jacks hadn’t said a word to her since they’d exited his wretched castle. He lounged across from her, a lazy nobleman once again, unknotting his bronze cravat as if he’d just finished a series of tedious tasks: attending a ball, dancing, cursing Tella with his murderous lips.
“I take it you’re afraid of me now,” he drawled.
“You’re mistaking fear with disgust. You’re a loathsome monster.” And she had trusted him. “You tricked me.”
“Would you have preferred me to make the kiss kill you right away?”
“Yes.”
The bow of Jacks’s mouth dipped down, though not a trace of sadness touched his eyes. He probably wasn’t capable of it, just as he was said to be incapable of love.
… his heart had stopped beating long ago. Only one person could make it beat again: his one true love. They said his kiss had been fatal to all but her—his only weakness.
Oh, how Tella wished she was his weakness. She’d have loved to destroy him.
Tella often imagined she knew what people thought when they saw her. One look at her honey-blond curls, her girlish smile, and her pretty dresses, coupled with the fact that she liked to enjoy herself, and people dismissed her as a silly girl. Tella might have been many things, but she was far from silly or worthless or whatever labels people liked to affix because a person was young and female. Tella liked to think that was where much of her strength came from.
She was bold. She was brave. She was cunning. And she was going to come out of this triumphant—no matter the cost.
“If you’d brought me Legend’s name,” Jacks said, “this would have turned out differently.”
“If that’s true, why do you now want more than just his name?”
“Why settle for only a name when you can win the game and give me Legend?” Jacks’s tone was dismissive, as careless as his idle posture. But Tella believed there had to be much more to his demand. She wanted to press him further, but she doubted he’d tell her exactly what he wanted with Legend. And there were other questions Tella needed answers to more.