Finale (Caraval, 3)

Scarlett Dragna’s bedroom was a palace built of wonder and the magic of make-believe. But to a person who’d forgotten how to imagine, it might have just looked like a disaster of dresses. Garnet-red gowns littered the ivory carpets, while cerulean frocks hung from the corners of the iron canopy bed, swinging gently as a gust of salty wind snuck in from the open windows. The sisters sitting on the bed didn’t seem to notice the breeze, or the person who entered the room with it. This new figure slipped inside quiet as a thief, making no noise as she crept toward the bed where her daughters were playing.

Scarlett, her eldest, was busy straightening the petal-pink petticoat resting on her shoulders like a cape, as her younger sister, Donatella, wrapped a strand of creamy lace across her face as if it were an eye patch.

Their voices were high and light and morning-bright, in the way that only children’s voices can be. Just the sound of them was magic, melting the harsh midday sunlight into bits of luminous butterscotch that danced around their heads like stardust halos.

Both of them appeared angelic until Tella announced, “I’m a pirate, not a princess.”

Their mother’s mouth warred between smiling and frowning. Her youngest daughter was so much like her. Tella had the same rebel heartbeat and adventurous spirit. It was a double-edged gift that had always given her mother so much hope, as well as fear that Tella might make the same mistakes she had.

“No,” Scarlett said, more headstrong than usual. “Give it back, that’s my crown! I can’t be a queen without a crown.”

Their mother’s frown won as she edged closer to the bed. Scarlett was generally less combative than Tella, but both girls’ mouths twisted stubbornly as their hands wrapped around opposite ends of a pearl necklace.

“Find a new crown, it’s my pirate treasure!” Tella gave a fantastic yank and pearls flew across the room.

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

The mother caught one, deftly capturing it between two delicate fingers. The tiny globe was as pink as her daughters’ cheeks, now that both girls had finally looked up to see her.

Scarlett’s hazel eyes were already turning glassy; she had always been more sensitive than her sister. “She broke my crown.”

“A true queen’s power isn’t in her crown, my little love. It’s here.” Her mother placed a hand over her heart. Then she turned to Tella.

“Are you going to tell me that I don’t need treasure to be a pirate? Or that my greatest treasure is right here?” Tella put a tiny hand over her heart, mimicking her mother.

If Scarlett had done it, their mother would have imagined the gesture to be sincere, but their mother could see the devilry in Tella’s eyes. Tella had a spark that could either set the whole world ablaze, or give it much-needed light.

“I would actually say your greatest treasure is sitting across from you. There is nothing quite so precious as the love of a sister.” With that, the mother picked up her daughters’ hands and squeezed.

If there had been a clock in the room, it would have stopped. Occasionally, there are minutes that get extra seconds. Moments so precious the universe stretches to make additional room for them, and this was one of them. People don’t get pauses like these very often. Some people never receive them at all.

These little girls didn’t know this yet, because their stories hadn’t begun, not really. But soon their stories would take off, and when they did, these sisters would need every stolen moment of sweetness they could find.