Caraval

No!” Scarlett tried to pry the door back open, but a plump woman in a stocking cap was already placing a heavy lock through the bolt.

“You can’t do that. My—” Scarlett hesitated. Somehow the lie seemed more real if she was the one to say it; it made her feel as if she were somehow being unfaithful to the count. Julian had promised her what happened in the game would never get back to her father or her real fiancé, but how could she be sure? And it wasn’t as if he was really being left out for the night.

But the days on this isle seemed as if they could be worse than the nights. Scarlett remembered the cold abandoned village they’d crossed through to get to the turreted house. If Julian remained locked outside, it was because he’d pushed her in ahead of himself. He risked what he’d wanted so she would be all right. Scarlett couldn’t abandon him.

“My fiancé,” Scarlett said. “He’s out there, you have to let him in.”

“I’m sorry,” said the innkeeper. “Rules are rules. If you don’t make it in by the end of the first night, you don’t get to play.”

Don’t get to play?

“Those weren’t the rules I heard.” Though she hadn’t listened to all the rules. She realized this was why Julian had been so anxious on the boat.

“I’m sorry, dearie.” And the innkeeper truly did look apologetic. “I hate to separate couples, but I cannot break the rules. Once the sun’s up and the door’s locked for the day, no one comes in or gets out until the sun—”

“But it’s not up yet!” Scarlett objected. “It’s still dark. You can’t leave him out there.”

The innkeeper continued to look at Scarlett with pity but the set of her mouth was unyielding. It was obvious she was not going to change her mind.

If the situation were reversed, Scarlett tried to think of what Julian would have done. Briefly, she imagined he might not have cared. But although he’d left her on the raft and in the clock shop, he’d also come back—and even if it had only been so he could use her to get into the games, she still felt thankful he’d returned.

Mustering courage she mostly reserved to protect her sister, Scarlett stood a little straighter. “I think you’re making a mistake. My name is Scarlett Dragna, and we’re special guests of Caraval Master Legend.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened almost as fast as her hands reached out to unlock the bolt. “Oh, you should have said that sooner!”

The door flew open. The other side was the hopeless shade of black that only takes over before the sun is about to rise.

“Julian!” Scarlett expected to find him on the other side of the door but all she saw was the relentless darkness.

Her heart pounded. “Julian!”

“Crimson?”

Scarlett still couldn’t see him, but she heard Julian’s boots hitting the dock, thumping in rhythm with her own pounding pulse.

Her heart continued to race even after Julian was safely inside. The fire that lit the vestibule was dim, a few smoldering logs provided barely enough light to see, but she swore the sailor looked haunted, as if those moments outside had cost him something valuable. She could feel the night still hovering around him. The tips of his dark hair were damp with it.

Somewhere in the distance, bells began to ring in the dawn. If she’d waited a few more seconds it would have been too late to save him. Scarlett fought the unexpected urge to reach out and hug him. He might have been a scoundrel and a liar, but until she found her sister, he was all she had in the game.

“You scared me,” Scarlett said.

And it appeared she wasn’t the only one.

The innkeeper’s face was paler as she locked up the door for a second time.

Julian moved a little closer to Scarlett, his hand gently pressing the small of her back. “How did you convince her to let me in?”

“Um.” Scarlett felt reluctant to tell Julian the truth about what she’d said. “I just told her it wasn’t daybreak yet.”

Julian raised a skeptical brow.

“I might have also told her that we were getting married,” Scarlett added.

My little liar, Julian mouthed, his lips parted slightly as he slowly leaned in closer.

Scarlett stiffened. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he whispered, “Thank you.” His lips lingered near her ear, tickling her skin, and she shivered as his hand pressed a little harder against the small of her back.

Something about the gesture felt very intimate.

Scarlett inched away, but Julian’s hand remained against her spine, keeping her close as he turned to the innkeeper. She bustled behind the large olive-green desk that took up most of the low-ceilinged room.

“And thank you,” said Julian. “I appreciate the kindness you’ve shown us tonight.”

“Oh, it wasn’t really a problem,” said the innkeeper, though Scarlett swore she was still shaken. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted her stocking cap. “Like I told your fiancée, I hate to break up couples. I actually have special arrangements for you two.”

The innkeeper rummaged back through her desk before producing two glass keys, one etched with a number eight, and the other with a nine. “Easy to find, just go up the stairs to your left.” She winked as she handed them the keys.

Scarlett hoped the wink was just a tic. She had never been overly fond of them. Her father liked to wink, usually after he’d done something nasty. Scarlett didn’t imagine this plump innkeeper had done anything nefarious to their rooms, but the little glass keys paired with the odd little gesture left Scarlett with an icy-blue nervous hum.

It was probably just in her head, she told herself. Maybe the keys were part of the game as well. Perhaps they unlocked something other than rooms eight and nine and that was what she’d meant by “special arrangements.”

Or perchance they just had a rather good view of the canals.

The innkeeper explained that each hall had a water closet and a tub room for washing. “To your right is the Glass Tavern, closes one hour after sunrise, opens one hour before sunset.”

Inside the barroom, jade light fell from emerald chandeliers, hanging over tables of glass that clinked with goblets and the crush of dull chatter. It smelled of stale beer and staler conversation. It was about to close for the day. Only a handful of patrons remained, all of them with different colorings and features, which made it seem they’d come from across the continents. None of them had curly blond hair.

“I’m sure you’ll find her tomorrow,” said Julian.

“Or maybe she’s already in her room?” Scarlett turned back to the innkeeper. “Would you be able to tell us if a young lady named Donatella Dragna is staying here?”

The innkeeper hesitated. Scarlett swore she recognized the name.

“I’m sorry, dearies, I can’t tell you who else is staying here.”

“But it’s my sister.”

“I still can’t help.” The woman divided a slightly panicked look between Julian and Scarlett. “Rules of the game. If she’s here, you’ll have to find her on your own.”

“Can’t you—”

Julian’s hand pressed against Scarlett’s back, then his lips were at her ear again. “She’s already done us one favor tonight,” he warned.

“But—” Scarlett started to argue, yet Julian’s expression stopped her. Something in it went beyond caution and looked much closer to fear.

Dark hair fell over his eyes as he leaned near to her once more and whispered, “I know you want to find your sister, but on this isle secrets are valuable. Be careful about giving yours away too freely. If people know what you want the most, it can be used against you.

“Come on.” He started toward the stairs.

Scarlett knew it was dawn, but the crooked halls of La Serpiente smelled like the end of the night, sweat and fading fire smoke mixed with lingering breath from words whose ghosts still haunted the air. The doors didn’t seem to be in any particular order. Room two was on the second floor, while room one was on floor three. Room five’s teal door came after eleven’s raspberry entry.

The halls of the fourth floor were all covered in velvet paper striped with thick lines of black and cream. Scarlett and Julian finally found their rooms, in the middle of the hall. Neighbors to each other.

Scarlett hesitated in front of the rounded door to room eight, while Julian waited for her to go inside.

It felt as if they’d spent more than just one day together. The sailor had not been a horrible companion. Scarlett knew she might not have made it this far without his help.

“I was thinking,” she started, “tomorrow—”

“If I see your sister, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.” Julian’s tone was polite, but it was clearly a dismissal.

So that was it.

She shouldn’t have been surprised or upset that this was the end of their partnership. Julian had claimed he would help her out, but she’d learned enough of him to know that if he wanted something, he said whatever needed to be said to get it. She didn’t know when she started expecting more. Or why.

She recalled what he’d told her in the clock shop, about how she thought too highly of him if she believed he cared for her sister. He used people. His use of her had been mutually beneficial, but he’d used her all the same. She remembered her first impression of him, tall, roughly handsome, and dangerous, like poison dressed up in an attractive bottle.

It was better for her to stay away from him. Safer. He might have helped her today, but she couldn’t drop her guard; he was clearly here for his own purposes. And after she found her sister the next night, she wouldn’t be alone, or staying much longer.

“Good-bye,” Scarlett said as curtly as he’d spoken to her, and without another word she swept into her room.

A fire was already lit in the hearth, warm and glowing, throwing shades of copper against walls covered in flowered wallpaper—roses, white with ruby tips, in various states of bloom. The wood crackled as it burned, a soft lullaby that pulled her toward a massive canopy bed, the most enormous one Scarlett had ever seen. It must have been why the room was considered special. Sheltered by gauzy drapes of white that hung from carved wooden posts, the bed was covered in silk pillows made of fluff and thickly quilted blankets, tied with rich currant-red bows. She couldn’t wait to fall on the bed’s downy mattress and—

The wall moved.

Scarlett froze. The room grew suddenly hotter and smaller.

For a moment she hoped it was a trick of her imagination.

“No,” she said, watching as Julian strode through a narrow door, next to the wardrobe, which until that moment had been camouflaged by the room’s papered wall.

“How did you get in here?” she asked. Though even before he answered, Scarlett knew exactly what had happened.

The wink. The keys. The special arrangements. “She gave us the same room on purpose!”

“You did a very good job convincing her we’re in love.” Julian’s eyes cut to the lavish bed.

Scarlett’s cheeks blazed with red, the color of hearts and blood and shame. “I didn’t say we were in love—I only said we’re engaged.”

Julian laughed but Scarlett was aghast. “This isn’t funny. We can’t sleep in here together. If anyone finds out, I’ll be utterly ruined.”

“There you go being dramatic again. You think everything is going to destroy your life.”

But if anyone found out, it would destroy her engagement to the count. “You met my father. If he ever discovered I—”

“No one will find out. I imagine that’s why there are two doors with different numbers.” Julian crossed over to the enormous bed and threw himself on top of it.

“You can’t sleep on that bed,” Scarlett protested.

“Why not? It’s very comfortable.” Julian pulled off his boots, dropping them to the floor with loud thumps. Then he took off his waistcoat and went for the buttons of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Scarlett said. “You can’t do that.”

“Listen, Crimson.” Julian stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “I told you I won’t touch you, and I promise to keep my word. But I am not sleeping on the floor or on that tiny lounge just because you’re a girl. This bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“You really think I’d get in a bed with you? Are you mad?” A ridiculous question, because clearly he was. He continued to unbutton his shirt, and she was certain he did so only because he knew it made her uncomfortable. Or maybe he just liked showing off.

Scarlett got another glimpse of his smooth muscles as she pivoted for the door. “I’m going back down to see if she has another room.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Julian called.

“Then I’ll sleep in the hall.”

A gentleman would have protested, but Julian was not a gentleman. Something soft hit the floor. Most likely his shirt.

Scarlett reached for the glass doorknob.

“Hold on—”

A square lined with gold landed at her feet. An envelope. Her name written across the front in an elegant script.

“Found that on the bed. I’m imagining it’s your first clue.”