Finale (Caraval, 3)

Scarlett waited for the world to rock, for the boat to sway and her stomach to roll. But only her stomach met her expectations. It bubbled with queasy unease as she sat up in a feather-soft bed and opened her eyes to find that everything was cream-and-gold columns and carpets and bedding, with delicate hints of pink.

Nothing was purple, her father’s signature color. She didn’t smell his wretched perfume, or see his hateful face. Yet Scarlett felt far from safe as she slid out of a bed shaped like a crescent moon and covered in gossamer-thin pink sheets.

On clumsy legs, still unsteady from whatever she’d been drugged with, Scarlett made her way between columns, all topped with disembodied heads of baby cherubs with animal eyes. Lovely and wrong. But they were not quite as disturbing as the frescoes of humans with animal parts painted on the ceiling.

Someone had a very twisted sense of decoration.

Her stomach churned as she reached the floor-to-ceiling windows and swiftly pulled back the curtains.

More endless arches and arcades of gold and white. Scarlett wasn’t certain where she was, but she wasn’t on a boat at the docks or on the ocean. It looked as if she’d traveled back in time to before Valenda’s ruins had been ruins.

Scarlett turned and ran, her feet bounding over fluffy cream carpets, to search for a door. The Reverie Key still rested in her pocket; all she needed to find was a lock. But the only thing she found was a veil of pink curtains, barely thicker than the gauzy sheets on her bed.

Scarlett tore them apart and barreled into a sitting room full of more frescoes. But it was the gilded cage that gave her pause. It took up almost half the room. On the other side of the cage was a door. But inside the cage was a young woman in a lavender gown, sitting on a swing like a pet bird.

Scarlett could have darted past her. The captive woman’s head was gently bowed and her eyes were closed, as if she’d just rocked herself to sleep. If Scarlett were quiet, she wouldn’t even wake her. But she couldn’t escape and leave another girl captive.

Scarlett took a cautious step closer.

There were no ill colors swirling around the captive young woman, but Scarlett felt a wave of uncertainty as she approached. There was something very familiar about all of this, but her head was still too muddled from the drugs to untangle what it could be.

The gleaming lock on the cage’s golden door was larger than Scarlett’s fist. She reached toward her pocket, wondering if it would open with the Reverie Key, but her dress closed the pocket before her fingers could reach in. At the same exact moment, the captive woman’s head shot up, revealing alert lavender eyes the same color as her dress.

“Aren’t you precious?” Her voice was scratchy as if she’d not spoken for a long time. “Sadly, you cannot free me, little human. Only his true death will allow me to leave this cage.”

“But I can never truly die,” said a new voice.

Scarlett spun to her side.

For a moment she thought she was looking at an angel. The broad man before her was dressed in the purest white and surrounded by sparks that made her think the air around him was a breath away from catching fire.

Scarlett swore the gilded cage beside her looked duller now that he stood near it. His olive skin glowed and his thick brown hair had strands of gold that matched his brilliant eyes. He was clearly not human.

“Hello, Scarlett.” The man before her curved his mouth slowly. It might have been a convincing smile except for his golden eyes, which twinkled and crinkled at the corners a second too late, as if he needed to remind himself that a smile was supposed to touch his entire face. “You look exactly like your mother. But she would never have paused to free Anissa if she thought she could have escaped. Paradise was ruthless.”

He said the word ruthless the way someone else might have said the word beautiful. His smile even reached his eyes this time, making them glitter like stolen stars; they shined brighter than the sparks around him, which warmed the room like genuine flames. Instantly Scarlett knew exactly who the immortal before her was—the Fallen Star. The Fate who’d murdered her mother in front of Tella.

Scarlett faltered backward, shoulders slamming into the cage. She didn’t know what the Fallen Star wanted with her, but she didn’t want to find out. She tried to dart past him toward the door.

“That would be a mistake.” His hand fell on Scarlett’s shoulder, heavy and strong enough to crush her entire arm with one squeeze.

“Gavriel, be a little gentle or you’ll break her,” said the woman in the cage.

The Fallen Star relaxed his hand but didn’t let go. “I don’t wish to hurt you. I’ve brought you to the Menagerie for your protection.”

The only thing Scarlett needed protection from was him. But saying that was probably a terrible idea. She tried to focus on what he’d just told her. When she got out of there—because she was going to get out—she wanted to be able to tell the others exactly where she’d been. “Isn’t the Menagerie one of the Fated places?”

She hadn’t studied the Fated places as much as the Fated immortals, but she recalled the Menagerie was some kind of zoo full of magical chimeras and humans with animal parts, which explained all the disturbing frescoes, and the woman in the cage beside her.

Scarlett wondered if captivity was what he had planned for her as well. Her swirling thoughts couldn’t recall much about the Fallen Star, other than that he’d made all the Fates, and he’d killed her mother. Maybe he also collected women like pets and Scarlett was his next acquisition.

“I think you’re still scaring her,” chimed the young woman in the cage.

“You don’t need to fear me, auhtara.” His grip on her shoulder relaxed a little more as he used that foreign word again. Scarlett was familiar with languages, but it was like nothing she’d ever heard.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

His teeth flashed with another attempt at a smile that was everything it wasn’t supposed to be. “It’s my native tongue, for ‘daughter.’”

The ornate room spun around Scarlett. She didn’t know if he was trying to frighten or surprise her. She wanted to hope it was a twisted joke. But she doubted this immortal was capable of kidding. He was the monster that other monsters measured themselves against. If what he said was true, Scarlett wasn’t entirely sure what that made her, but she didn’t even want to know.

She didn’t want to believe him.

He had to be deluded.

He had to be wrong.

This had to be a mistake. She already had one murderous, power-hungry father. She didn’t deserve another one.

This couldn’t be true, even if deep, deep down, a part of Scarlett reminded her how people often commented that Tella looked just like her father, but Scarlett held no resemblance to him. Her mother had also married her father after a whirlwind romance, which Scarlett had heard servants whispering about a few years back. They said it was only a quick marriage because Paloma had been pregnant—and some of the maids had sworn it wasn’t with Marcello Dragna’s child.

“This would have worked better if you hadn’t kidnapped her first,” chided the young woman in the cage. “Poor girl is in shock.”

“Quiet, Anissa, or tomorrow you’ll wake up in a smaller cage.” The Fallen Star turned his attention back to Scarlett. “I can see you’re having a hard time believing this, but you must have had some inclination that you’re not entirely human. Is there anything you can do that most humans are incapable of?”

“But I am human,” Scarlett protested, even as she saw fearful shades of brilliant purple swirling all around her. It was a gift she knew wasn’t normal, just like her more recent ability to see the feelings of others. “I’m not a Fate.”

“No, you’re not a Fate, but as my daughter, you can become one.” His inhuman smile widened. She imagined he was trying to be reassuring, but there was nothing remotely comforting about a man who’d just told a captive woman he’d put her in a smaller cage and that he could make Scarlett a monster, too.

“Tell me, auhtara, what can you do?”

Scarlett swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to answer him. But she knew this was a test, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she failed. “I’ve always seen my own emotions in colors,” she admitted, “but recently, I’ve begun to see the feelings of other people as well.”

“Can you see any of my emotions?” he asked, voice still mild. Another test, and this time Scarlett didn’t know what the correct answer was. She imagined most people wouldn’t want her eavesdropping on their emotions. If the father who’d raised her had asked Scarlett this, then the correct answer would have certainly been no. But the Fallen Star was the Fate who’d created all the other Fates. He wouldn’t want a daughter without talent.

Scarlett took a calming breath. She never intentionally attempted to see another’s emotions, and the Fallen Star was a Fate, not a human. But apparently, she wasn’t entirely human, either.

Scarlett stood a little straighter, shoving all her fear and worry and terror aside until she saw glimpses of colors that weren’t her own. She’d expected angry reds and wicked purples. But the Fallen Star was made of magnificent golds.

He was pleased, and growing more delighted by the moment. She could see hints of eager green as he watched her use her powers to read him.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“You’re happy I’m here, happier than you expected to be … and you’re proud. I can see copper sparks of it all around you as I’m speaking.”

“Excellent.” He nodded once and the eager greens around him deepened into a greedier shade. “I knew you’d be talented. There was another Fate with a similar ability. He could control emotions, but the gift never worked on immortals.”

“I can only see emotions, I can’t control them,” Scarlett corrected.

“That’s because you haven’t had my help.” The Fallen Star reached up to pet her head.

Scarlett couldn’t help it; she cringed away. If he wanted to kidnap her or put her in a cage, she wasn’t strong enough to stop him. But she would never accept affection from him. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest way to survive, but not everything was about survival.

The Fallen Star’s hand fell away, but to her surprise, he gave her another inhuman smile. “If you’d accepted me too easily, I would have been disappointed. But you will not keep fighting me. You are my only child. When I ascend to the throne, I’ll share the entire Meridian Empire with you, if you become what I want you to be.”

He waved one massive hand and Scarlett’s horror spiked, as sparks in the air exploded into flames that filled the space above their heads and twisted into shining shapes. She saw an image of herself sitting on a throne in a full party dress with a jeweled diadem atop her head and a line of suitors, some on their knees, others with their hands outstretched with elaborate gifts.

“I can make all of your wildest dreams come true once you come into your powers. I can make you a Fate, like me.”

Scarlett bit back from saying that taking over the empire with him or becoming a Fate was not one of her dreams, as he waved his hand again and the fiery image shifted.

Scarlett was still sitting in the throne room, but she was now at the Fallen Star’s feet, and instead of a diadem resting on her head, there was a cage around it.

“I’ll let you choose which future you want. Think about it while I’m gone. My lovely Lady Prisoner will keep you company, and remind you of what will happen if you try to leave the Menagerie.”

He caressed the bars of the gilded cage and Scarlett realized why this young woman was so familiar. The Lady Prisoner was another Fate. In Decks of Destiny, her card had a double meaning: sometimes her picture promised love, but usually it meant sacrifice.

Scarlett couldn’t remember what the Lady Prisoner’s powers were, but she hoped it wasn’t some form of fortune-telling when the young woman’s eyes shifted from purple to white as she said, “I look forward to watching you transform into what he wants.”