Caraval

Scarlett had never wanted time to stop before, to slip into a crawl so slow that one heartbeat would take a year, a breath would take a lifetime, and a touch could last an eternity. Usually she wanted the opposite, for time to speed up, race ahead, so that she could escape any current pain and move forward into a new, unblemished moment.

But Scarlett knew that when this instant ended the next would not feel fresh, or thick with promise for the future. It would be incomplete, lacking, void, because Julian would not be in it.

Scarlett’s tears fell harder as she felt Julian die. His muscles losing tension. His body growing colder. His skin taking on a gray pallor that there was no return from.

She knew Legend was watching. Taking sick pleasure from her pain. But a part of her couldn’t bear to let go of Julian, as if he might miraculously take another breath, or manage another heartbeat. She’d once heard emotions and desires fueled the magic that made wishes possible. But either Scarlett didn’t feel enough, or the stories she’d heard about wishes were made of lies.

Or, perhaps, she was thinking of the wrong stories.

Hope is a powerful thing. Some say it’s a different breed of magic altogether. Elusive, difficult to hold on to. But not much is needed.

And Scarlett did not have much, just the memory of a poorly written poem.

THIS GIRL WAS LAST SEEN WITH LEGEND.

IF YOU CATCH HER, YOU SHALL CATCH HIM AS WELL.

OF COURSE, YOU MAY HAVE TO VENTURE THROUGH HELL.

BUT IF YOU SUCCEED YOU MAY FIND YOURSELF RICH.

THIS YEAR’S WINNER WILL BE GRANTED ONE WISH.

Scarlett had momentarily forgotten about the wish, but if she could find Tella first, and wish for Julian’s life, maybe it could end happily after all. That anything could be happy again seemed almost as unreal as a wish, but it was all she had left to hope for.

As she looked up, ready to demand her sister’s location again, she realized Legend had vanished. All he’d left was Julian’s pocket watch and his own velvet top hat, resting on a dark letter.

Black rose petals drifted to the ground as Scarlett picked up the note. It was rimmed in onyx black leafing, a shadow of the first letter Legend had sent her.

Dear Miss Dragna,

Your presence is requested for the funeral of Donatella Dragna, tomorrow, one hour after sunrise. Unless you manage to prevent her death.

Yours truly,

Legend

P.S. I recommend taking the stairs to your right.

Scarlett’s hand fisted around the letter. This was more than madness. This was something perverted that Scarlett did not understand. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to understand it.

Again, she was struck with the feeling this was personal to her, that it was about more than just Legend’s sordid past with her grandmother Anna.

Behind her the water started rushing again. She didn’t know if that meant others were coming. She hated to leave Julian’s body—he deserved so much more than to be abandoned in a cave—but if she was going to save him, she needed to end this, find Tella, and get that wish.

Scarlett looked up to see more jade firefly lights dancing in the air, moving like a curtain of glowing smoke to illuminate a fork in the stairs before her.

Legend had recommended the set to her right. She imagined he knew she wouldn’t trust him, so there was a good chance he’d told the truth because of that. However, he was cunning enough to know she would have thought that too.

She started toward the stairs on the left, only to change her mind at the last minute, as she remembered what Legend said about telling the truth. Her father seldom told the entire truth, but he also rarely outright lied. He saved his lies for when they would count the most. Scarlett figured Legend was the same way.

She pushed herself to run up the stairs, spiral after spiral after spiral, remembering all the staircases she’d traveled with Julian. With every flight she fought against tears and fatigue. Whenever she managed not to cry over Julian, she imagined finding Tella the same way she’d left him, unmoving body, unbeating heart, unseeing eyes.

The world felt thinner by the time Scarlett reached the top of the steps. Sweat soaked her gown, and her legs burned and shook. If she’d chosen the wrong staircase she didn’t imagine she’d have the strength to run back down and then back up again.

In front of her was a spindly ladder leading to a small square trapdoor. Scarlett lost her footing several times as she climbed. She had no idea what she’d find on the other side of the door. She felt heat. There were sounds of crackling as well. Definitely a fire.

Scarlett tottered against the ladder, praying it was just a fire in a hearth, not an entire room ablaze. She sucked in a deep breath as she pulled the trapdoor.