* * *
Upon returning to her suite, Tella pulled out the Aracle.
The image was unclear until she imagined winning the game and handing over Legend to Jacks as she’d promised. Instantly the image sharpened to a scene with Tella and her sister and their mother, all happy and hugging. A picture too good to be true. Perhaps it was.
For years Tella had trusted the Aracle without question. But if the real Aracle was trapped inside this card, wouldn’t it show Tella whatever it needed to so that she would help it escape?
NIGHT FIVE
OF CARAVAL
31
At first it seemed there were no stars. From below, the sky looked like a sparkling mirror of black. But from above, for one brief moment inside of her sky carriage, Tella could see the heavens were not all dark. A thin outline of white stars glittered in the shape of a heart. It encompassed most of Valenda, shining fairy-dust-thin light on the edges of the ancient city, hinting at bewitchment and spells and childhood dreams.
Tella leaned closer to the carriage window. Even with the incandescent starshine, it was too dark to clearly spy the people below. But she pictured those still playing the game rushing through the streets. No one had said anything directly to her, but Tella had overheard a few maids discussing how disgruntled everyone was that Elantine had cancelled night four of Caraval.
With her life dependent on the outcome of the game, Tella hadn’t wanted to miss out on a night of play either. But her body had greedily taken the rest. After Elantine’s dinner, Tella had slept and slept and slept. She’d half expected to wake covered in blood pouring from her eyes. But either Jacks had given her a reprieve, or the blood Dante and Julian had fed Tella was still working to counteract Jacks’s murderous kiss.
Unfortunately, she was not completely uncursed. Her heart once again beat slower than it should have.
Beat … beat.
Nothing.
Beat … beat.
Nothing.
Beat … beat.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Tella clutched at her chest and cursed Jacks. The extra missed beat felt like his way of nipping at her and urging her to hurry.
As her carriage descended on the Temple District, she pulled out the third clue, which she’d copied from the back of her mother’s poster, so that it would be easier to carry.
If you’ve found this you’re on the true track, but it’s still not too late to turn back.
Clues can no longer tell you where to head; to find the object Legend needs, your heart must lead instead.
Tella was now fairly certain the object she needed to win was her mother’s cursed Deck of Destiny. She also believed it was not just a game, and that Legend really wanted this deck. But she imagined he didn’t know where it was. So, through the clue, he’d instructed Tella to follow her heart, hoping she would know where her mother had hidden the cards.
A pungent cloud of incense surrounded Tella’s coach as it landed in the Temple District. Prayers and hymns still filled the streets, but it was not nearly as busy as it had been a few nights ago. No whispers of Legend reached Tella’s ears.
She appeared to be the only player whose heart had guided her here. Though it wasn’t so much her heart leading as her mother’s fiery opal ring, which Elantine believed was some sort of key connected to the Temple of the Stars.
Tella hoped the empress was right and that if it was a key, it would unlock the secrets Tella needed in order to find her mother’s Deck of Destiny. But Tella doubted it would be that simple, and the ring’s connection to the temple made her wary.
Religions practiced in Valenda appeared to be shrines of entertainment rather than sanctuaries of faith. But Tella had heard those who worshipped at the Temple of the Stars were true believers, willing to sacrifice youth, beauty, or whatever else the stars asked of them. And though Tella didn’t know much about the stars themselves, she’d heard the ancient beings were soulless, even less human than the Fates. It made her suspicious of anyone willing to join their congregation.
She tightened the rope at her waist, which held in place the flimsy sheath she’d asked a palace servant to procure. To gain entrance to the Temple of the Stars, she needed to look like an acolyte, docile and compliant, and dress in a horrid acolyte’s sheath.
She shivered at the wind slicing between her legs. Tella had never been modest but she felt as if she were only wearing a split sheet, held together by a knot tied at her shoulder and a braided cord around her waist. The cord dragged on the ground with her every step. Completely unflattering, and difficult to run in.
And everything about the Temple of the Stars made her want to turn and flee in the opposite direction.
Massive wings perched atop the temple’s domed roof, glowing as bright as fresh flames, and yet for all their magnificence, no one lingered outside of the temple’s great entrance. Perhaps that’s why there were so many statues littering its wide moonstone steps, giving the impression of visitors and life. Though anyone who looked at these sculptures up close would never have mistaken them for humans.
Thick and tall as temple columns, the men possessed muscled arms as large as tree trunks, while the women had been given overflowing breasts and eyes made of aquamarines. Tella imagined they were supposed to be the stars. They might have been beautiful, if she hadn’t also noticed the other statues. The smaller, thinner ones, on their knees before the stars. Disturbingly real and lifelike. Burning torches cast fireweed-red light on the human statues, on the beads of sweat at their temples and the calluses on their hands. Their feet were all bare, and some hunched in submission while others held out their arms, offering up swaddled babes or toddling children.
Tella choked on something that tasted like disgust as she wondered what her mother might have traded for the opal ring on Tella’s finger.
“If you don’t like this, you really won’t approve of what you find inside.” Dante leaned against one of the pillars flanking the temple’s massive door, all bronzed flesh and brilliant tattoos—
And, oh glory, he was shirtless.
So very shirtless.
Tella willed herself not to stare, to march past him and ignore him, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him or prevent the rush of heat that spread across her chest and up her neck. She had seen young men unclothed before—she was fairly certain she’d even seen him without a shirt—but somehow Dante looked different at the top of those steps. Taller and thicker. More consuming. He was dressed like one of the statues, with only a wide white cloth wrapped around his lower half, accentuating the bronzed perfection of his legs and chest.
Tella snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late. He’d seen her jaw drop, and now the vainglorious bastard was smiling. All white teeth and flawless lips as if he were one of the stars worshipped inside the Temple. And Tella had to admit, in that moment he could have convinced her. Just like he’d managed to trick her into believing that he actually cared about her.
This was the first time she’d seen him since he’d carried her broken body away from Idyllwild Castle. She imagined he expected a thank-you for saving her that night. But after what he’d said to Julian, about only caring because she could lead them to the cards, Tella wasn’t about to thank Dante for anything. She wanted to say something witty or scathing, but to her horror all that came out was: “You should never wear a shirt.”
His grin was devastating. Dante pushed off the pillar then and propped an elbow against one of the statues closer to her. Moonlight danced over the thick black thorns tattooed across his clavicle while his dark eyes did the same to Tella. They slid up one slit of her dress until …
He scowled.
Something dipped in Tella’s stomach. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Dante reached down, grabbed the end of the cord holding her scrap of fabric together, and tugged.
Every inch of Tella’s skin went hot. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you.” He inclined his
head toward one of the female statues who wore a garment similar to Tella’s, only the rope around her middle started directly below her breasts and then wrapped around several times creating a diamond pattern until it knotted at the waist, leaving only two short tassels hanging near her curving hips.
“You have it all wrong.” Dante stole the cord’s other end. “We’re going to have to remove the rope and retie it.”
Tella snatched both ends back and took a wobbly step away. “You can’t take apart my dress on these stairs.”
“Does that mean I can take it apart somewhere else?” His low voice oozed dark promises.
Tella swatted him with the rope.
“I’m only joking.” Dante held up both hands with a surprisingly unguarded grin. “I wasn’t planning on undressing you here or anywhere else. But we’re going to have to fix your sheet if you want to get inside.”
“It’s a sheath, not a sheet,” Tella argued. “And they won’t care how it’s tied.”
“If you think that, then you clearly don’t know enough about this sanctuary. A different world exists on the other side of those marble doors. But if you want to enter like that, go ahead.” He flicked one end of the cord in her hands.
Tella glowered. “I think you enjoy tormenting me.”
“If you hate it so much, why haven’t you walked away?”
“Because you’re standing in my way.”
It was a poor excuse and they both knew it.
It was so much easier to despise him in her head than it was face-to-face. She just kept seeing the way he’d looked at her as he’d carried her from Idyllwild castle. There’d been a moment when he’d appeared so treacherously young and close too vulnerable. But was it because he’d actually cared about losing her? Or had he only feared because losing her meant losing his chance at finding her mother’s Deck of Destiny?
She was tempted to ask, to throw what she’d overheard back in his face and see if he flinched or if he softened.
The words weighed down the tip of Tella’s tongue.
But none of them came out.
Tella didn’t really want his answer because no matter what he said, there was no good way for their story to end. Tella still wasn’t sure whether Dante or Julian was Legend. Her conversation with Scarlett had sown threads of doubt. But if Dante turned out to be Legend, then Tella needed to make sure any feelings she had for him were turned off.
After watching the play last night and concluding that Jacks intended to free all the Fates, Tella had debated her plans. She didn’t want to be responsible for releasing the Fates back into the world so they could reign over the Empire like cruel gods. But she didn’t want to die again, and she also couldn’t come this close to saving her mother—and finally asking her all the questions that had been building since the day she’d disappeared from Trisda—only to fail.
Tella wasn’t going to be a coward and pretend she didn’t have choices just because she didn’t like them. She did have choices and she’d made hers. At the end of the game Tella would give Legend over to Jacks.
It made her hope Dante wasn’t Legend. But even if he wasn’t, there was still no future for him and Tella.
Tella wasn’t proud of herself for this choice, or for avoiding the unsaid things between them. She knew she was taking the lesser path by not even hinting at how she’d almost died and how Dante had saved her. But he’d not said a word about it either. This was probably what he wanted as well.
“All right.” Tella tossed him both ends of the rope. She could let him do this one thing and then she’d send him on his way. “Just be quick about it.”
She wrapped her own hands around the upper half of her sheet. She reminded herself she wasn’t modest. Yet Tella felt as if she were holding herself together rather than merely keeping her sheet in place. Every inch of her skin turned more sensitive, prickling with awareness as he drew closer. He smelled of ink and other dark, seductive things.
She clutched her flimsy fabric tighter while he found the knot at her waist and slowly began to undo it. He tugged and pulled until Tella stood so close to him that all she could see were the ridges of his tattooed chest. His arms were covered in symbols, but his chest seemed to tell a story. A wrecked ship with ripped sails crashed on his abdomen, while broken stars looked down from above. A forest on fire covered one side of his rib cage. Beneath his collarbone, a black heart matching the one on his arm wept blood so real she thought she heard it beating. When he turned slightly she glimpsed tips of blue-black feathers that belonged to the beautiful wings tattooed across his back.
Tella told herself not to stare. But when she closed her eyes, everything intensified. The brush of Dante’s knuckles against the curve of her hip sent her heart racing. The wide thumb gently digging into her waist made her breath catch as he continued to work with the cord until the rope was sliding from her waist into his hands. Leaving her in just the sheet.
Tella’s eyes flashed open.
Dante ran his tongue over his lips, like a tiger that had just bested a kitten.
Tella gripped the fabric tighter. “Don’t you dare walk away with that cord!”
He hitched an eyebrow. “You honestly think I’d leave you on these steps like this after working so hard to gain your trust?”
“I thought you were working for Legend.”
He eased closer. “Think whatever you want, but if you honestly believe that’s the only reason I’m here right now with my hands all over you, you’re not nearly as clever as I thought.”
Then the rope was sliding around her.
A fevered rush of blood raced around her heart as Dante’s arms wound behind her, and he tugged on the rope, pulling it taut beneath her chest.
“Too tight?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? For a moment you stopped breathing. Or do I just have that effect on you?” His lips brushed past her ear, tickling the tender space near the edge of her jaw as he let out a low chuckle.
She would have smacked him if her dress wouldn’t have fallen to the ground. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Would you prefer it if I hated putting my arms around you?” Dante’s hands wound around her again, and this time he did a little more than merely skim the fabric of her gown. Tella felt the pressure of his fingers sliding over her rib cage as he wrapped the cord all the way around until it crisscrossed just above her navel.
It shouldn’t have made her flush all over. This was where their story ended, not where it became interesting again.
Dante dragged the cord behind her once more, hands now lingering over her waist. “How does that feel?”
“Good.”
“I meant the cord.”
“That’s what I meant too,” Tella said. But she was fairly certain her breathless words betrayed that for the lie it was. “Tell me about your tattoos,” she said, hoping to distract herself as he finished. “Do they mean anything or are they just pretty pictures?”
“Did you just call them pretty?”
“Do you have something against the word?”
“Not if you’re using it in reference to me,” he answered. But Tella swore he tied the rope at her back a little tighter than necessary as he said, “I play so many roles the tattoos help me remember who I am. Each one tells a true story from my past.”
“The black heart weeping blood,” Tella said. “Is that for a girl you once loved?”
“That one I don’t talk about. But I’ll tell you about the ship with ripped sails.” His fingers briefly grazed her sides, reminding her of exactly where the ship was inked onto his body. “My father tried to get rid of me when I was young. He sold me to a noble family from another continent. But either destiny was on my side or truly out to destroy me. The nobles’ ship was attacked by pirates who kept no prisoners. I might have been a casualty as well, but I told them I was a runaway prince.”
“And they believed you?”
“No. But they were entertained enough to keep
me alive.”
Tella found herself smiling at the thought of young Dante attempting to fool a boat full of pirates. “So, does this mean you know pirate tricks?”
“I know all sorts of tricks.” Dante finished knotting the cord. But he left his hands on the indent of her waist, warm against the thin fabric. “If you stop trying to push me away, I’ll teach you some.”
“Do I look as if I’m pushing you away?”
“No, but you want to.” He pressed two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face toward his. One of his hands remained on the rope at her waist, while the other moved from her chin to slowly stroke her jaw. She’d often thought his eyes bordered on black, but under the torches’ brilliant glow, Dante’s eyes looked lined in gold and full of something like longing. He gazed at her as if he wanted her to lose herself somewhere in his eyes, so that he could be the one to find her.
But Tella knew this wasn’t about finding her. This was about locating a deck of cards. This was about Fates and power and life and death. Tella wanted to know what it would be like to lose herself in someone like Dante and trust that he would find her. But the only person she could trust was herself.
“Thank you for your assistance, but I think I can manage on my own from here.” She took a step back, freed her chin from his hand, and swept past him.
When her heart skipped over its next beat, it felt more like sorrow than pressure from Jacks, but she forced herself to keep walking. To not turn around.
The dark air became nectar-sweet, taking on an almost drowsy quality as Tella approached the doors and knocked.
She heard Dante come to her side, but she didn’t face him. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
“I can. But I don’t want to, and I don’t think you want me to either.”
Before she could ask him to leave again the pearly door before them opened.