Finale (Caraval, 3)

Scarlett tried not to regret her choice in declaring her hand in marriage a game, while Julian appeared to be hiding how unhappy he was with the way their visit to Nicolas’s estate had turned out. After Scarlett had laid out the rules of the game, she’d convinced both gentlemen to sit down and have some of the tea and treats Nicolas had prepared. But of course it had turned into another competition; talk of traveling turned into a battle over who traveled the most. Talk of books had turned into a contest to see who was better read. And when the talk had stopped, they’d stared each other down until Scarlett finally declared it time to leave.

Julian now leaned his dark head against the window, one booted foot slung casually over his knee as he hummed softly. Scarlett knew he didn’t feel as careless as he appeared, but his melody was resonant and relaxing, making all the flourishing rows of country farms look even prettier as their coach lumbered over uneven roads.

“Do you also sing?” Scarlett asked. “I’ve never heard a hum so musical.”

The corner of Julian’s mouth hitched into a wry smile. “I have lots of practice. For years, Legend kept giving me roles as a minstrel who only spoke in song.”

Scarlett laughed. “What did you do to earn that?”

Julian shrugged. “My brother has a jealous streak. I think it bothered him that I was getting so much attention during the games. He tried to turn me into a joke. But everyone likes a handsome young man with a good voice.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, but the world did turn lovelier when Julian started humming again. She looked out the window as the coach rumbled closer to an immaculately kept country house the color of Sun Festival peaches, trimmed in crisp white and surrounded by rambling faises that made her think of living lace.

Even the family out front appeared to be perfectly posed. They must have been celebrating the festival with an outdoor dinner. There was a long table atop the grass, set with flowered cloths and covered in what looked like a feast. The family of five stood around it, all drinking from earthenware goblets as if someone had just given a toast. Scarlett looked to the youngest child, a girl with long braids down her back. She held her goblet with both hands, lips smiling as if this was her first taste of wine. It was the sort of grin that hurt if a person held on to it too long.

But the smile didn’t change. Nothing changed.

Bitter-orange pinpricks of unease crawled over Scarlett’s skin as the coach trundled past and no one among the party lowered their goblets or moved at all.

Scarlett might have thought the family was a series of incredibly lifelike statues if not for the terrified plumes of phantom-purple swirling around their frozen forms. Plumes that were definitely not in Scarlett’s mind. She could see their feelings so vividly, her heart stated racing with whatever fright they were experiencing.

“Something’s wrong.” Scarlett reached across the carriage and opened the window to yell at the driver, “Stop the coach!”

“What’s the matter?” Julian asked.

“I don’t know, but something isn’t right.” She flung open the door as soon as the carriage came to a stop.

Julian followed while she tore across the grass.

The scene looked even more unnatural up close. The only things that moved were the blades of grass around Scarlett’s feet, and the ants. The ants crawled over the Sun Festival feast while the family remained frozen in their endless toast, mouths awkwardly parted and teeth stained with dark purple from whatever they’d been drinking.

“Would Legend do something like this?” Scarlett asked.

“No, he can be cruel, but he’s never this cruel.” Julian frowned as he checked the pulse of the youngest girl. “She’s still alive.”

He continued to search for heartbeats as the family remained eerily still.

“How could someone even do this?” Scarlett scanned the table, as if she might find a bottle of poison hidden among the food. But everything looked perfectly normal—flatbread, long beans, speckled cobs of corn, baskets of fresh sunberries, latticed pig pies, and—

She paused on the butter knives sticking out from the table. Dull, flat metal, the kind of utensils that cut poorly and yet someone had been strong enough to shove the tip of each one through the cloth into the table, pinning a note in place.

“Julian, come look at this.” Scarlett carefully leaned over the feast, not daring to touch the knives or the note as she read aloud.

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE …

IF THE SUN HASN’T SET, THEY SHOULD ALL STILL BE ALIVE.

BUT ONCE THIS DAY COMES TO AN END,

I’M AFRAID THIS FAMILY WILL ALL BE DEAD.

IF YOU WISH TO STOP THEM FROM TURNING TO STONE,

WHOEVER READS THIS MUST ATONE.

RECALL YOUR LIES AND ACTS DONE OUT OF FEAR,

THEN CONFESS YOUR LATEST MISDEED OUT LOUD FOR ALL TO HEAR.

—POISON

“It doesn’t even rhyme properly,” Julian grumbled.

“I think you’re missing the point,” Scarlett whispered. She didn’t know if the statues were capable of hearing, but if they were, she didn’t want to scare them with what she was thinking. “Did you see the name at the bottom of the note? There’s a Fate called the Poisoner.”

It wasn’t exactly the same name as Poison, so maybe this wasn’t the work of a Fate. But if it was, it was a terrible sign.

Until recently, Scarlett had never thought much of the Fates—the mythical, ancient beings had always been her sister’s obsessions. But after the Fates had been freed from their cursed Deck of Destiny, Scarlett had peppered Tella with questions, and studied up on them herself.

The Fates were so ancient that most people believed them to be myths that only existed as painted images on Decks of Destiny, which people used to tell fortunes. But they weren’t merely painted images; they were real and had been cursed to live inside a Deck of Destiny for centuries. There wasn’t a great deal of information on what exactly they could do with their powers, but the name the Poisoner seemed rather self-explanatory.

“Do you think this could mean that the Fates are waking?”

“We didn’t think they’d wake up this quickly.” Julian tugged at the knot of his cravat. “It could just be a prank for the Sun Festival.”

“Who’s capable of a prank like this?”

“The Prince of Hearts can stop hearts,” Julian hazarded.

“But their hearts are still beating.” Scarlett hadn’t been the one to touch their pulses, but she imagined they were pounding. Hers was. She could feel her heart racing as the plumes of purple panic coming from the family began to curl like smoke from a growing fire.

“I think we should do what it asks, and confess our last lies out loud,” Scarlett said. “Even if we go back to town and find an open apothecary, I have a feeling they won’t be able to fix this.” And Scarlett couldn’t leave these people like this.

Julian shook his head as he looked over the frozen family once more. “I should have gone along with the lie and said I was your cousin.”

“Why do you say that?” Scarlett asked.

“Because the last lie I told was to you.” Julian tore a hand through his hair and when he looked back at her again, it hung over nervous and regretful eyes.

An awful sinking feeling turned inside of Scarlett. His lies had torn them apart before. Lying was the habit Julian couldn’t seem to break, perhaps from being a part of Caraval for so long. But with all his honesty today, she’d started to hope that he had changed. But maybe she’d been wrong.

“I’m sorry, Crimson. I lied when I said I left for five weeks to give you space. I left because I was angry you wanted to meet the count, and I thought leaving would make you want me more.”

It did. It made her want him—and hate him, and just then it almost made her want to laugh. It always hurt when Julian lied because it made her believe that his lies meant he didn’t care. But everything he’d done today proved that he still cared. And she couldn’t get mad at him for manipulating her, when she’d done the same thing to him.

“You’re terrible,” she said. “But I’m terrible, too. I don’t really think the courtship game between you and Nicolas will be fun. The more I think about it, the more nervous I get. I only did it to test you and get back at you for leaving.”

Julian’s grin immediately returned. “Does that mean you’re going to call it off?”

Someone coughed at the other side of the table. Choking, sputtering, wheezing, and the crashing of dropped goblets followed, as the family began to move again.

“Oh, thank you!”

“Bless you!”

“You saved us!”

Scarlett and Julian were immediately enclosed in one family-size hug as the small clan poured out their gratitude. Their bodies were shaking and warm from the sun, and the youngest girl with the braids might have hugged Julian a little longer than everyone else, forming an instant crush on him.

“I thought for certain we were going to stay like that forever,” said the stout woman who Scarlett assumed was the mother.

“People passed by, but no one stopped,” said one of the sons.

“Can you tell us anything about who did this to you?” asked Julian.

“Oh, yes,” everyone said at once. And then all their strained faces went blank.

“Well, the person was…”

“I think…”

Several of them tried to answer the question, but none of them managed it, as if their memories had been stolen.

Scarlett debated voicing what she’d whispered to Julian, about the possibility that the Fates were waking up and Poison was actually the Poisoner, but this family had been through enough. They didn’t need to be terrified by Scarlett’s suspicions.

“We’d ask you to stay and dine with us,” said the fatherly looking man. “But I don’t think any of us will be eating after this.”

“That’s all right,” Scarlett said. “We’re just glad we could help.”

She and Julian let everyone embrace them once again before they returned to the carriage. If this scene really was the work of a Fate, they needed to warn—

“Wait!” cried the youngest girl with the braids. She tore across the grass. Scarlett thought she may have come to give Julian a kiss good-bye, but she ran up to Scarlett instead. “I want to give you a gift for stopping to help us.” The girl solemnly reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out an ugly key covered in greenish-white rust and scratches, the color of buried secrets that should not have been dug up.

“That’s all right,” Scarlett said. “You keep it.”

“No,” the girl insisted. “There’s more to this key than just how it looks. It’s like how my family was when you drove by. I don’t know what it does, but I found it this morning, on the edge of the well. One moment, nothing was there, and then it appeared. I think it’s magic, and I want you to have it, because I think you’re magical too.”

The girl handed her the gift.

Scarlett might have teared up, this child was so precious.

“Thank you.” She enclosed the key in her palm.

It wasn’t until after Scarlett stepped into the carriage and looked at it again that she noticed the object had transformed from an aged piece of rust to a crystalline key that glittered like stardust and bewitchment.