Legendary (Caraval #2)(85)
A sliver of a smile. “Good. There’s a way to fix all of this, but I need your trust. Legend is at his most powerful during Caraval, and his magic comes from the same origin as Jacks’s. If you win the game, Legend will heal you. You don’t need Jacks.”
“But to win, I have to give myself over to the stars, and I don’t know that I can do that.”
“You aren’t going to do that,” Dante promised. “I’ll find another way for you to get inside their vaults.”
“How? You heard Theron. He said only my ring can open the vault, but it’s cursed until my mother’s debt is paid.”
“Then I’ll find another way to pay it.”
“No!”
Dante’s grin widened. “If you’re afraid I plan on giving myself to the stars instead, don’t be, I’m not that selfless.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Every curse has a way to be broken, and a loophole. If the stars won’t accept another payment to break the curse on your ring, I’ll find the loophole.”
Tella had never heard it phrased like this, but she supposed it made sense. It aligned with what Jacks had said about there being only two ways to free someone from a card—either break the curse, or take a person’s place. The latter must have been the loophole. But the idea of it scared Tella more than the thought of breaking the curse.
“Don’t worry.” Dante pressed his lips to her forehead, his kiss hot against her skin as he whispered, “Trust me, Tella. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
But suddenly he was the one she was concerned about. And Tella wasn’t used to trusting others with her secrets, let alone her life. She sensed Dante was experiencing conflicting emotions as well.
A cloud covered the vanishing moon, leaving his entire face shadowed in darkness as he pulled away, but Tella thought he still looked as if he were battling something. “Do you think you can make it back to the palace safely?”
“Why?” she asked. “Where are you going?”
“I still have a job to do tonight. But don’t worry, I’ll meet you on the steps of the Temple of the Stars after the fireworks tomorrow night.”
The following night was the last night of Caraval. The fireworks would be at midnight, marking the end of Elantine’s Eve and the start of Elantine’s Day. It would be cutting it close to when the game ended at dawn.
Tella wanted to argue, but Dante was already walking away. He’d reached the edge of the garden. He was still close enough to call after. But Tella found herself quietly trailing him instead.
She told herself she trusted him; she was only following because she was concerned about what he might do to save her. But the truth was she wanted to trust him more than she actually did. A part of her still had not ruled out the possibility that he was Legend. But if he was Legend and he cared about Tella at all, he would have uncursed her in the garden with his blood rather than pushing her to win the game and retrieve her mother’s cards first.
Either Dante really cared about Tella, or he was the master of Caraval and he didn’t care at all.
Maybe if she found out where he was always running off to she could figure it out. But Tella was too slow. Or perhaps Dante knew she was following him. By the time she reached the exit of the garden, he was gone.
Tella searched the nearby ruins for a while. She even dared to return to the park where she’d stolen the cloak. But there were no signs of him, and her legs were starting to wobble with fatigue.
It was almost sunrise when Tella’s sky carriage neared the palace. Legend’s heart-shaped constellation was gone. Torches dotted the grounds with light, but the air still felt frigid after a night of being separated from the sun. Tella wanted to close her eyes and collapse inside her tower room, but her coach halted. Whoever was in the carriage before hers was taking forever to disembark.
Tella opened her window and poked out her head, as if glaring at the box before her might hasten its occupants’ pace. To her astonishment, it worked.
The carriage door opened, followed by a flash of familiar cerise fabric. Tella couldn’t be positive—other than the dress, all she saw was a curtain of thick dark hair. But from the back, the young woman looked exactly like Scarlett.
Tella continued to watch, but her sister didn’t turn around. She scurried forward, flitting out of the carriage house before Tella’s coach had even moved. Then the door to the carriage before her opened again. Tella only saw the back of this person as well, but she instantly recognized his careless walk, his wrinkled clothes, and his head of golden hair. Jacks.
35
Tella hoped the sun would rise soon because this bizarre night needed to end. If Tella’s world flipped on its head one more time, she would crack.
What had her sister been doing with Jacks?
Of course, Tella still wasn’t certain the young woman who’d stepped out of the coach was Scarlett. Tella hadn’t gotten a clear look at her face. But Tella knew her sister and she knew Jacks, who was low enough to drag Scarlett into this mess.
Tella leaped out of her coach the moment it touched the ground and nearly twisted her ankle. It didn’t stop her from rushing out of the carriage house, but it did delay her long enough to lose her sister.
“Are you running from someone, or chasing after someone?” The Prince of Hearts stepped out from the edge of the stone garden, blocking Tella’s path as he tossed a glowing purple apple back and forth between the tips of his nimble fingers. Again, he didn’t wear a coat and his shirt was only half ironed, as if he’d grown impatient and taken it from a maid before she could finish her job. His pants were unwrinkled, but when the rising sun hit the buttery leather, Tella thought she saw a spatter that looked like blood.