Finale (Caraval, 3)

Tella hoped to find Legend when she finally succumbed to sleep. She didn’t care if he was distant from her rejection or still a little dead, she just hoped he was there. Her shredded skyfall-blue skirts dragged over the floors of Idyllwild Castle, picking up bits of abandoned glitter from discarded paper stars, as she searched a ballroom that had no ball.

She knew she was dreaming, but everything felt more like an abandoned memory. Unlike the first night of the last game of Caraval, when Dante had accompanied her here, the ballroom was silent save for the drip-drop of a few pathetic party fountains. During the last Caraval they had flowed with deep burgundy wine, but now they barely drizzled a rusty red liquid the color of broken hearts.

Jacks sauntered out of the cage in the center of it in an elegant blur of wrinkled and half-buttoned clothing. Golden hair hung over his eyes, and it shined brighter than anything in the room. He looked untamed and more beautiful than Tella wanted to admit.

His movements were indolent yet graceful as he sliced off a wedge of a skyfall-blue apple, the same exact color as her dress.

Her cheeks felt suddenly flushed as he put the slice of fruit in his mouth and took a wide bite.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Not having as much fun as I’d hoped.” He wandered closer. He smelled especially divine tonight—the scent of apples was paired with a rich spice she couldn’t identify. She tried to tell herself she only liked it because when she’d been awake all she could smell was death, but the closer Jacks drew, the more she fought the urge to inhale him. Something was very wrong with this dream.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said in a huff. “I only gave you permission to enter my dreams for one night.”

“And yet you didn’t try to keep me out tonight?” His perfect lips toyed with the sharp tip of his blade. “What were you thinking before you slept?”

“Not about you.”

“Really?” he taunted. “You weren’t wishing I was there to make you feel better?” He continued toying with the knife, but the look in his unearthly eyes softened as his gaze trailed over her untamed curls and down to her ungloved hands, until it landed on the frayed hem of her wrecked ball gown. She almost thought he was concerned, until he said, “You look miserable.”

“It’s not polite to tell that to a girl,” she snapped.

“I didn’t come here to be polite, my love.” He dropped his knife to the floor with a clatter and stalked closer. “I’m here because you wanted me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“So, you don’t want me to take your pain away?” His eyes were the flawless blue of polished sea glass. “I can make you feel whatever you want when you wake up. All you have to do is ask.”

He cupped her cheek with his cool hand and leaned in closer.

She should have pulled away. The word obsession returned to her mind. But when Jacks touched her, she couldn’t bring herself to worry that this was a horrible idea, or hate the feel of him the way she was supposed to. His cool skin was soothing against her heated cheek, coaxing her to close her eyes, to lean into him, to take what he was offering.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” His cold lips were at her ear, brushing against the sensitive skin. “Just say yes and I’ll take away everything that hurts. I can make you forget it all. And I can give you things that your dead princeling couldn’t.”

A shiver shot down Tella’s spine and her eyes flashed open. This wasn’t what she wanted. Everything that hurt was everything she cared about—Legend, her mother, Scarlett, the Fates taking over the empire.

Tella shook her head and pulled away. She didn’t need Jacks to make her feel better. She needed to wake up, she needed to find her sister, and then she needed to go to the Vanished Market to purchase a secret that might tell her how to destroy the Fallen Star. She didn’t need to erase her pain; she needed it to propel her into action. Just because it was a negative emotion didn’t mean it wasn’t a valuable one. “We’re not doing this.”

Jacks rocked back on his heels and ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth. “You don’t want to feel better?”

“No, and I don’t want you!”

He laughed, tossing back his golden head and making the sound echo across the abandoned ballroom. “You say that, my love, but a part of you does, or I wouldn’t even be here.”