Finale (Caraval, 3)

Legend was there, and alive, so very alive that the sight of him made Tella grin until her cheeks hurt.

“You’re back.” She didn’t even care that the words came out breathless.

She was beyond pretending that the sight of him didn’t steal her breath. He looked like a wish that had just woken up. His eyes were full of stars, his bronze skin was faintly glowing, and his dark hair was a little mussed. He didn’t wear a cravat at his throat, and the top buttons of his black shirt were undone, as if he’d been in a rush to leave—to get to her.

If her smile hadn’t been stretched as far as it could go, she would have grinned even wider.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming back?” His eyes met hers and the corner of his mouth hitched up into the arrogant twist she loved so much.

“I’ve—” Tella broke off. The words been worried became lodged in her throat. There was only one reason to have worried about him.

She swallowed the words as she fought to keep her smile. He was alive. He was alive and there. That was all that mattered. He was alive. She would have never gotten over it if he’d died because he loved her. And yet it hurt so very much to realize that he was only standing there now, looking like a dream come true, because he didn’t love her, and she so desperately loved him.

“Ahem,” said the older sister. “In case the two of you have forgotten, time moves differently here and I was in the middle of speaking.”

Legend’s lips formed a flat line as he turned toward the woman, eyes narrowing slightly as if he’d liked to have used an illusion to make her disappear. Maybe he was even trying, but his magic didn’t work quite the same inside this Fated place.

Which was good, because Tella needed this place and this woman.

“You said that I would have a daughter,” Tella said.

“Yes. The father of your child will possess magic,” the woman replied. “Your daughter will be born with a very powerful gift. But this child will have one fatal weakness. In exchange for the Fallen Star’s most closely guarded secret, we want you to discover your daughter’s secret weakness and then return to the market and give this knowledge to us.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any of my secrets?” Tella asked.

She still hadn’t wrapped her head around having a child, or that she’d visit this market again in the future, which made her think she’d survive all of this. But she hated to think this was the only way.

“You still haven’t told us who the father is,” Legend said, leaning a broad shoulder carelessly against a tent pole. But Tella swore she saw a muscle pulse in his jaw.

“We do not have permission to share that information,” said the older sister, “and it’s not good to know too much about the future.”

Tella agreed. The Aracle card that had shown her glimpses of the future had almost gotten her killed. And yet she couldn’t hold back from asking, “Can’t you just tell me if he’s the father?”

“Who else would be the father?” Legend growled.

“Don’t get upset with me!” Tella snapped. “You asked the question first.” And you don’t love me, said her eyes.

His eyes flashed with gold, and then suddenly he was inside the tent and right in front of her, looking down at her with the handsome face she’d feared she would never see again. “I asked you to become immortal.” One hand wrapped around her waist, warm and strong and solid, while his other hand found the back of her neck. His grin turned devilish as he pulled her closer.

Tella’s breath went short. “What are you doing?”

“Asking you again.” He kissed her, harsh and quick and a little bit savage. She parted her lips, but that was all she could do. The hand at her waist kept her pressed to him, while the fingers at her neck spread out, covering her throat as he angled her head back, taking complete control as he deepened the kiss. He was possessing her, owning her with every sweep of his tongue and press of his lips, wordlessly telling her once more that he wanted to keep her forever. He didn’t kiss her as if he’d simply just come back to life. He kissed her as if he’d died, been buried, and clawed his way out of the grave and through the dirt just to get to her.

Tella had never experienced such a heady feeling in her life. He might not have loved her, but Julian was right that Legend knew how to make her feel wanted.

“Just say yes,” he said against her lips. “Let me make you immortal.”

“You’re not playing fair,” she murmured.

“I never said I did, and I won’t this time.” His thumb stroked the sensitive column of her neck. “You’re too important, Tella.”

But you don’t love me. Although as painful as it was to know that he didn’t love her now, she also knew that if he had, he wouldn’t be alive right now.

“Ahem.” The older sister cleared her throat. “If you wish to start making that child now, I’m afraid this isn’t the place.”

Tella leaped away from Legend, crashing back to a terrible reality and blushing harder than she ever had in her entire life.

“Now, I suggest we move on,” the older sister continued. “If you two keep at whatever it is you’re doing, weeks will have passed in your world by the time you leave ours.”

Dirty saints. Tella really had forgotten about the time. She hadn’t heard any bells ring, but she imagined more than an hour must have passed, maybe even longer, which meant at least a day had come and gone in her world. Another day that her sister was being held captive by the Fate who’d murdered her mother, and the people of Valenda suffered unknowable terrors, as the other Fates played with them like toys they wanted to break.

And she’d been kissing Legend.

Tella’s eyes shot back to the red jasper box in the older woman’s hands. That was what she’d come here for—a secret that could save them all—and she needed it, regardless of the cost.

“I’ll do it,” Tella said. “I’ll make the trade.”

“Tella, you don’t have to do this.” Legend turned to the older sister, tilting his head and flashing a smile that would have made most ladies swoon. “You can have one of my secrets.”

The older sister pursed her lips. “We’re not interested.”

An offended crease formed between Legend’s dark brows. “Then there has to be something else you want.”

Outside, the sun was still filling the world with lemony light, but none of it reached inside the tent. The air was growing colder, filling with heavy waves of creeping silver-blue fog.

“Legend—” Tella put a hand on his arm, before the fog became too thick to see through. “It’s all right, you don’t have to save me. I know what I’m doing.”

“But you shouldn’t have to do it.” He turned back to her, and though he didn’t say another word, his eyes were soft, apologetic. And she knew this wasn’t about him or his secrets.

Legend was thinking about the one thing that Tella hadn’t wanted to think about. Or rather, the one person—her mother.

When her mother had possessed the Deck of Destiny that imprisoned the Fates, the Temple of the Stars had wanted Paloma to give them Scarlett, in exchange for hiding the cursed Deck of Destiny. Her mother had refused, but she’d easily offered the temple Tella. And it had felt like the worst sort of betrayal, similar to what Tella was doing now.

“You don’t have to do this,” Legend said.

But Tella didn’t see a better choice, and she feared she couldn’t risk taking the time to find one. “My sister—she’s with the Fallen Star. She won’t be safe until he’s dead.”

“I know, Julian told me before I found you here.”

“Then you know that I do have to do this now.” Tella turned back to the sisters before her conscience tried to convince her to change her mind. “You have a deal.”

“Excellent,” said the oldest. “We just need to seal your promise. If you fail to discover your daughter’s secret weakness by her seventeenth birthday, or choose not to give it to us, the cost will be your life.”

And before anyone could protest, the younger sister pressed a thick rod of iron to the underside of Tella’s wrist.

She screamed out loud.

Legend shot forward and grabbed her free hand. “Look at me, Tella.” His grip was strong and reassuring, but it wasn’t nearly enough to distract her from the pain, or the sorrow. So much sorrow.

Tella was familiar with heartbreak, but this was the sort of hurt that came from breaking someone else’s heart. A fragile heart. A child’s heart. A daughter’s heart.

Tella closed her eyes to stop the tears.

The younger sister pulled the iron from Tella’s wrist. Where there had once been flawless flesh there was now a thin white scar in the shape of a lock made of thorns. It didn’t hurt. The pain instantly disappeared with the brand. But although Tella didn’t feel pain or sorrow anymore, she also didn’t quite feel like she had before.

She thought about her mother, and the vision of when her mother had given Tella away. Tella would never know why her mother made the choices she had, but in that moment Tella believed that it wasn’t because she didn’t care, it was because she did care. She cared enough to do whatever needed to be done. Maybe that’s why she’d chosen to give up Tella instead of Scarlett. Scarlett would willingly sacrifice herself—destroy herself—if she felt it was the right thing. Tella was more like Paloma, willing to do whatever it took, even if it was the wrong thing, if it got her what she needed. Maybe Paloma sacrificed Tella because she knew it wouldn’t destroy her.

But Tella silently vowed that she would make sure her daughter wouldn’t have to make these sorts of choices at all. When this was over, Tella would find a way to make it all right, no matter what it took.

Tella clutched the red jasper box with one hand and Legend’s hand with the other. He hadn’t let go since he’d taken hold of it in the tent. His heavy fingers remained laced with hers, keeping her tucked close to his side as they wove back through the bustling market. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again, but occasionally, when she glanced at him, she saw a satisfied smile.

Tella wanted to peek inside the box, wanted to know which secret she’d promised so much for. But she didn’t want to remain longer than necessary. She imagined she’d spent an hour or two, but maybe it had been longer. Maybe she and Legend had lost three or four days instead of only one or two.

When they crossed through the archway that took them back to Valenda, the sky was midnight blue, making it impossible to tell the hour or how much time had passed.

Legend had private residences all over the city. Julian was supposedly waiting for them at the Narrow House in the Spice Quarter. Of all his performers, only Aiko, Nigel, Caspar, and Jovan knew about it.

Heading there should have felt safer than lingering on the ragged streets of Valenda; it hadn’t taken long for trash to collect now that the monarchy was in upheaval. Tella didn’t spy any Fates, but she detected their taint taking up residence where night revelers had once been.

The jasper box in her hand grew heavier. She had the urge to open it now, but they’d already reached the Narrow House, which was indeed a slender structure. At first glance it appeared barely wider than a doorway, and just as crooked as all the other homes in this part of the city. But the closer they drew, the wider it grew.

Tella watched as decorative arched windows appeared on either side of the door. Beneath them rested flower boxes, overflowing with white foxglove, which Tella would have sworn weren’t there moments ago.

The house would have looked curiously inviting if she had not glanced up to see the Maiden Death standing in the center of the second-story window, flashing a macabre smile from behind her cage of pearls.

Legend’s hand gripped Tella’s tighter.

In Decks of Destiny, the Maiden Death’s card predicted a loss of a loved one or a family member. And it was her card that had first predicted Tella would lose her mother.

The air around her crackled and a fraction of a second later a hooded figure materialized between Tella and Legend.

Tella froze. She couldn’t see this figure’s face, it was concealed by his cloak, but she didn’t need to. There was only one Fate with the ability to travel through space and time and materialize at will: the Assassin—who, according to Jacks, was also insane.

“The Maiden Death is here to see the two of you,” he said.