Finale (Caraval, 3)

Tella had never been so cold inside one of her dreams. Her breath came out in thick white puffs that lingered like fog, as she wandered through a house of cards, which was actually more nightmare than dream. All of the cards were either queens with her smiling likeness, or kings with Jacks’s cruel face, winking at her whenever she dared look at them.

“I know you’re here somewhere!” Tella called. She didn’t know how he’d gotten into her dream. She’d taken precautions to keep him out after he’d tried to kill her. But clearly those measures had failed.

Jacks sauntered out from between a pair of red queens with her face that both had the audacity to blow him kisses.

She stormed forward and slapped him across the cheek, hard enough to leave a red mark against his pale skin. “I will never forgive you for what you did today.”

Every king and queen on the cards scowled or covered their mouths in shock. Some looked as if they might even march out of their cards and attack, but Jacks waved them off with a lazy hand as something that was probably supposed to be sadness flickered in his silver-blue eyes.

“You were never in danger, Donatella.” His voice was far more serious than usual. “I knew he wouldn’t let me kill you.”

“That doesn’t justify what you did!” She tried not to shout, tried not to show how much he’d hurt her, how much she cared. She’d never meant to trust him, but he’d been there when her mother had died, he’d cared for her when Legend hadn’t. She knew he was a Fate, she knew he had little to no conscience, but she’d started to believe he was trying to fight against his nature for her. “What would you have done if he refused to give you his power? Would you have let me die?”

“I knew he wouldn’t refuse.”

“That’s not an answer.” Tella clamped her hands into fists. She wanted to slap him again—she wanted to tackle him to the ground and take the entire house of cards down with him and hurt him the way that he’d hurt her. But Legend was right, Jacks was an immortal and she was clearly his obsession. There was no good ending to their story. He wasn’t even capable of the same emotions as she was. If he felt any guilt, or if he had any real feelings for her, he’d have never tried to kill her.

“Why do you care?” Jacks said. “You just said you’d never forgive me.”

“You’re still ignoring the question.”

Jacks rubbed the cheek where she’d slapped him as he leaned back against one of his paper kings. “Would you even believe me if I said no, that I wouldn’t let you die—that I would never let you die?”

“No,” Tella said. “I won’t ever believe you again. And I want you to stay out of my dreams.” She knew he’d made a blood vow not to use his powers on her, but if he wanted to she knew he’d find a way around the vow, like he did with everything else. “How did you even get in here tonight?”

The paper king that Jacks leaned against gave Tella a crooked smile. “You and I have a connection. I’ve never needed permission to enter your dreams.”

Tella’s blood ran cold. “No, we do not have a connection. And after this, I never want to see you again.”

The paper king’s smile faded, but Jacks looked undisturbed. “You say that now, but you’ll come back to me.”