Caraval Series, Book 1

Felipe had booked them passage on a schooner.

  She and Tella had only made it onto the boat’s plank, and going that far had cost them so much. One of the guards had been especially rough with Tella, knocking her out as he dragged her back to the estate. But Scarlett had stayed conscious as she was pulled off the dock. She was forced to stand on the edges of the rocky beach, where water from glowing blue tide pools sunk into her boots, and she watched as her father took Felipe into the ocean.

  She should have been the one to drown that night. She should have been the one whose head her father held under the water. Held until her limbs stopped thrashing and her body went as still and lifeless as the seaweed that washed onto the shore. Later people believed Felipe had drowned accidentally; only Scarlett knew the truth.

  “If you ever do something like this again, your sister will suffer the same fate,” her father warned.

  Scarlett never told a soul. She guarded Tella by letting her believe she’d just become extremely overprotective. Scarlett was the only one who knew they could never safely leave Trisda unless she had a husband who could ferry them away.

  Waves clapped against the shore, muffling the sound of footsteps, but Scarlett heard them.

  “You were not the sister I was expecting.” Julian strolled closer. In the dark he looked more like a pirate than an ordinary sailor, and he moved with the practiced ease of someone Scarlett felt it would be unwise to trust. The night dyed his long coat an inky black, while shadows lined his cheekbones, turning them sharp as two knife-edges.

  Scarlett now debated how wise it was to risk sneaking off the estate to meet this boy so late at night on such a secluded strip of beach. This was the sort of wild, reckless behavior she was always warning Tella about.

  “I’m guessing you’ve changed your mind about my offer?” he asked.

  “No, but I have a counteroffer for you.” Scarlett tried to sound bold as she pulled out the elegant tickets from Caraval Master Legend. Her fingers did not want to release them, but she had to do this for Tella. When Scarlett had gone back to her own room earlier that evening, it had been ransacked. It was such a disaster, Scarlett hadn’t been able to discern exactly what her sister had made off with, but Tella had obviously been thieving things to prepare for this ill-fated voyage.

  Scarlett thrust her tickets toward Julian. “You can have all three. Use them or sell them, as long as you leave here early, and without Donatella.”

  “Ah, so it’s a bribe.”

  Scarlett didn’t like that word. She associated it too much with her father. But when it came to Tella, she’d do whatever she had to, even if it meant giving up the last thing she still dreamed about. “My sister is impulsive. She wants to leave with you, but she has no idea how dangerous it is. If our father catches her, he will do far worse than he did today.”

  “But she’ll be safe if she stays here?” Julian’s voice was low, slightly mocking.

  “When I get married I plan to take her with me.”

  “But does she want to go with you?”

  “She’ll thank me for it later.”

  Julian bared a wolfish smile, the whites of his teeth shining in the moonlight. “You know, that’s exactly what your sister said to me earlier.”

  Scarlett’s warning instincts kicked in too late. She turned at the sound of new footsteps. Tella stood behind her, her short frame covered in a dark cloak that made it seem as if she was part of the night. “I’m sorry to do this, but you’re the one who taught me there’s nothing more important than taking care of a sister.”

  Suddenly Julian clamped a cloth over Scarlett’s face. Frantically she tried to push it away. Her feet kicked up black clouds of sand, but whatever potent potion laced the fabric worked its magic fast. The world spun around Scarlett until she didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed.

  She was falling

  falling

  falling.

  5

  Before Scarlett lost all consciousness, a gentle hand stroked her cheek. “It’s better this way, sister. There’s more to life than staying safe.…”

  Her words ushered Scarlett into a world that only existed in the delicate land of lucid dreaming.

  As a room made of all windows came into view, she heard her grandmother’s voice. A pockmarked moon winked through the glass, illuminating the figures inside with grainy blue light.

  Younger versions of Scarlett and Tella, made of tiny hands and innocent dreams, curled together in bed while their grandmother tucked them in. Though the woman had spent more time with the girls after their mother had left, Scarlett could not recall another night she’d ever put them to bed; that was usually servants’ work.

  “Will you tell us about Caraval?” asked tiny Scarlett.

  “I want to hear about Master Legend,” chimed Tella. “Will you tell us the story of how he got his name?”

  Across from the bed, Nana perched upon a tufted chair as if it were a throne. Coils of black pearls circled her slender neck, while more covered her arms, all the way from her wrists to her elbows, as if they were lavish gloves. Her starched lavender gown was creaseless, adding more emphasis to the wrinkles etching her once-beautiful face.

  “Legend came from the Santos family of performers,” she began. “They were playwrights and actors, who all suffered from an unfortunate lack of talent. The only reason they had any success was because they were as beautiful as angels. And one son, Legend, was rumored to be the most handsome of all.”

  “But I thought Legend wasn’t his real name,” said Scarlett.

  “I can’t tell you his original name,” said Nana. “But, I can say, like all great—and terrible—stories, his started with love. Love for the elegant Annalise. With golden hair and words made of sugar. She bewitched him as he’d done to so many girls before her: with compliments and kisses and promises he should have known better than to believe.

  “Legend wasn’t wealthy then. He mostly lived on charm and stolen hearts, and Annalise claimed it was enough for her, but that her father, a wealthy merchant, would never allow her to wed a pauper.”

  “So did they get married?” Tella asked.

  “You’ll find out if you keep listening,” Nana tsked.

  Behind her a cloud drifted over the moon, covering all but two tiny points of light, which hovered behind her silver hair like devils’ horns.

  “Legend had a plan,” she continued. “Elantine was about to be crowned empress of the Meridian Empire, and if he could perform at her coronation, Legend believed it would bring him the fame and money he needed to marry Annalise. Only Legend was shamefully turned away, because of his lack of talent.”

  “I would have let him inside,” said Tella.

  “So would I,” Scarlett agreed.

  Nana frowned. “If you two don’t stop interrupting, I’m not going to finish the story.”

  Scarlett and Tella puckered their lips into miniature pink hearts.

  “Legend didn’t have any magic then,” Nana went on, “but he believed in the tales his father had told him. He’d heard every person gets one impossible wish—just one—if the person wants something more than anything, and they can find a bit of magic to help them along. So Legend went in search of a woman who had studied enchantments.”

  “She means a witch,” Scarlett whispered.

  Nana paused, and tiny Tella and little Scarlett’s eyes grew as wide as saucers while the glass room transformed into the wooden walls of a triangular cabin. Nana’s story was coming to life before their eyes. Yellow wax candles hung from the ceiling upside down, pouring creamy smoke in the wrong direction.

  In the center of it all, a woman with hair as red as fury sat across from a boy made of lean lines, his head shaded by a dark top hat. Legend. Though Scarlett couldn’t clearly see his face, she recognized his symbolic hat.

  “The woman asked what he wanted most,” Nana went on, “and Legend told her he wished to lead the greatest troupe of players the world had ever seen, so that he could win hi
s true love, Annalise. But the woman warned he could not have both things. He must pick only one.

  “Legend was as prideful as he was handsome, and he believed she was wrong. He told himself if he were famous it would allow him to marry Annalise. So he wished for that. He said he wanted his performances to be legendary. Magical.”

  A breeze cut through the room, blowing out every candle but the one illuminating Legend. Scarlett could not clearly see his face, but she would have sworn something about him changed, as if he’d suddenly acquired an extra shadow.

  “The transformation began right away,” Nana explained. “Its magic was fueled by Legend’s true desires, which were powerful indeed. The witch told him his performances would be transcendent, blending fantasy with reality in a way the world had never witnessed. But she also warned that wishes come with costs, and the more he performed, the more he would transform into whatever roles he played. If he acted the part of villain, he’d become one in truth.”

  “So does that mean he’s a villain?” asked Tella.

  “And what about Annalise?” Scarlett yawned.

  Nana sighed. “The witch had not lied when she said Legend could not have fame and Annalise. After becoming Legend, he was no longer the same boy she fell in love with, so she married another and broke Legend’s heart. He became just as famous as he’d wished, but he claimed Annalise betrayed him and he swore to never love again. Some would probably call him a villain. Others would say his magic makes him closer to a god.”

  Both tiny Tella and little Scarlett were halfway on the path to sleep. Their eyelids were more closed than open, yet their mouths both moved into upturned crescent-moons. Tella’s twisted at the word villain, but Scarlett smiled at the mention of Legend’s magic.

  6

  Scarlett woke with the feeling she’d lost something significant. Unlike most days, where her eyes opened reluctantly and she took her time stretching each limb before easing out of bed and cautiously looking around, on this day, Scarlett sat up the moment her eyes flickered open.

  Beneath her, the world rocked.

  “Careful, there.” Julian steadied her, reaching out to catch her before she tried to stand up in the boat—if the tiny tub they were in could properly be called a boat. A raft was a more appropriate name. It was barely large enough for the two of them.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Scarlett gripped the edges of the vessel as the rest of her surroundings came into focus.

  Across from her, Julian dipped two oars into the water, careful not to splash her, as he rowed through an unfamiliar sea. The water almost looked pink, with small swirls of turquoise that swelled as the copper sun crept higher into the sky.

  It was morning, although Scarlett imagined more than one dawn had passed while she’d slept. Julian’s face had been smooth when she’d last seen him, but now his jaw and chin appeared to be covered in at least two days of dark stubble. He looked even more disreputable than when he’d flashed that wolfish grin on the beach.

  “You blackguard!” Scarlett slapped him in the face.

  “Ow! What was that for?” A ruby welt bloomed across his cheek. The color of rage and punishment.

  Horror filled Scarlett at what she had done. On occasion she had trouble taming her tongue, but she’d never struck another person. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” She clutched the edges of her bench, bracing for him to strike back.

  But the hit she expected never came.

  Julian’s cheek was a blaze of angry red, his jaw nothing but a series of tight lines, yet he didn’t touch her.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I’ve never hit a woman.” He stopped rowing and looked her in the eyes. Unlike the come-hither gaze he’d worn inside the barrel room, or the predatory look she’d seen on the beach, he now made no attempts to charm or scare her. Beneath his hard appearance, Scarlett could see the ghost of the expression he’d worn as he had watched her father strike Tella. Julian had looked as appalled as Scarlett had been terrified.

  On his cheek, the imprint of her hand was fading, and as it disappeared Scarlett could feel some of her terror slip away. Not everyone reacted like her father.

  Scarlett’s fingers unclenched from the sides of the boat, though her hands still felt a little shaky.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed again. “But you and Tella should have never—wait.” Scarlett stopped. The awful feeling she’d lost something vital flooded back. And that something had honey-blond hair and a cherub’s face with a devil’s grin. “Where is Tella?”

  Julian dipped his oars back in the water, and this time he did splash Scarlett. Icy drops of wet sprayed all over her lap.

  “If you’ve done something to Tella, I swear—”

  “Relax, Crimson—”

  “It’s Scarlett.”

  “Same difference. And your sister is fine. You’ll find her on the isle.” Julian tipped an oar toward their destination.

  Scarlett was prepared to keep arguing, but when her eyes caught sight of where the sailor pointed, whatever she intended to say melted like warm butter on top of her tongue.

  The isle on the horizon looked nothing like her familiar Trisda. Where Trisda was black sand, rocky coves, and sickly looking shrubs, this bit of earth was lush and alive. Glittering mist swirled around vibrant green mountains—all covered in trees—that rose toward the sky as if they were massive emeralds. From the top of the largest peak an iridescent blue waterfall streamed down like melted peacock feathers, disappearing into the ring of sunrise-tinted clouds that pirouetted around the surreal isle.

  Isla de los Sueños.

  The island of dreams. Scarlett had never heard of the isle before seeing its name on the tickets to Caraval, yet she knew without asking that she stared at it now. Legend’s private island.

  “You’re lucky you slept on the way here. The rest of our voyage wasn’t this scenic.” Julian said it as if he’d done her a favor. Yet no matter how beguiling this isle was, thoughts of another isle weighed heavy on her mind.

  “How far are we from Trisda?” she asked.

  “We’re somewhere between the Conquered Isles and the Southern Empire,” Julian answered lazily, as if they were merely strolling on the beach next to her father’s estate.

  In reality, this was the farthest she’d ever been away from home. Scarlett’s eyes stung as a spray of salt water hit them. “How many days have we been gone?”

  “It’s the thirteenth. But before you hit me again, you should know your sister bought you time by making it seem as if both of you were kidnapped.”

  Scarlett recalled the destructive way Tella had gone through all her things, leaving her room in shambles. “That’s why my room was such a mess?”

  “She also left a ransom note,” Julian added. “So, when you return, you should be able to wed your count and live happily ever after.”

  Scarlett admitted her sister was clever. But if their father figured out the truth, he’d be livid—especially with her wedding only a week away. The image of a purple, fire-breathing dragon came to mind, coating her vision with ashy shades of anxiety.

  But maybe a visit to this isle is worth the risk. The wind seemed to whisper the words, reminding her that the thirteenth was also the date on Legend’s invitation. Anyone who arrives later than this will not be able to participate in the game, or win this year’s prize of one wish.

  Scarlett tried not to be enticed, but the child inside her drank in this new world greedily. The colors here were brighter, thicker, sharper; in comparison, every hue she’d seen before seemed thin and malnourished.

  The clouds took on a baked bronze glimmer the closer they drew to the isle, as if they were on the edge of catching fire rather than expelling rain. It made her think of Caraval Master Legend’s letter, how its gilded edges almost seemed to flame when they captured the light. She knew she needed to return home immediately, but the promise of what she might find on Legend’s private isle tempted her, like those precious early morning mo
ments, when Scarlett could either wake up and face the ruthless reality of day, or keep her eyes closed and continue to dream of lovely things.

  But beauty could be deceiving, as evidenced by the boy who sat across from her, rowing their raft smoothly through the water, as if kidnapping girls was something he did every day.

  “Why is Tella already on the isle?” Scarlett asked.

  “Because this boat only holds two at a time.” Julian splashed Scarlett again with his oar. “You should be grateful I came back for you after I dropped her off.”

  “I never asked you to take me in the first place.”

  “But you did spend seven years writing to Legend?”

  Heat rose to Scarlett’s cheeks. Not only had those letters been something private she’d shared solely with Tella, but the mocking way Julian said Legend’s name made Scarlett feel foolish, as indeed she had been for so many years. A child who’d yet to realize that most fairy tales did not end happily.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Julian said. “I’m sure lots of young women write him letters. You’ve probably heard that he never ages. And I’ve heard he has a way of making people fall in love with him.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Scarlett argued. “There was nothing romantic about my letters. I just wanted to experience the magic.”

  Julian narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t believe her. “If that’s true, why don’t you want it anymore?”

  “I don’t know what else my sister has told you, but I would think you saw what was at stake the other day in the barrel room. When I was younger, I wanted to experience Caraval. Now I just want my sister and me to be safe.”

  “Don’t you think your sister wants the same thing?” Julian stopped rowing and let the boat drift over a gentle wave. “I may not know her well, but I don’t think she has a death wish.”

  Scarlett disagreed.

  “I think you’ve forgotten how to live, and your sister is trying to remind you,” Julian went on. “But if all you want is safety, I’ll take you back.”

  Julian nodded to a speck in the distance that resembled a smallish fishing boat. Most likely the vessel they’d used to travel there, since their current raft was obviously not built to combat the seas.