Legendary (Caraval, 2)

Part 6 – WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN NIGHT FOUR OF CARAVAL

Tella could not stop weaving flowers into her hair. She knew there were far too many; her head looked like a garden, full of blue plumerias. And she continued to add more.

After Scarlett had left, a bouquet of plumerias had arrived at her door without a note. Tella imagined they were a gift from Jacks, since they matched the billowing ball gown he’d sent for that evening. Tella had started to toss the flowers out the window, but something about their perfume was familiar in a way that made her ache at the idea of parting with the blue bouquet. She’d put one in her hair, then another, and another, losing herself in their sweet scent and concentrating on the tiny act of weaving them into her curls rather than the fact that she was having dinner with the empress of the Meridian Empire.

Just the thought unbalanced her.

Since her father was a governor, Tella had been taught all the proper manners for banqueting with nobles, but she’d never been very good at following them. And she knew nothing about dining with royalty.

She took another plumeria from the thinned bouquet.

A chuckle floated from the doorway to her bedroom.

Tella spun away from her vanity to spy Jacks, leaning against the frame.

She’d expected that for once he’d make an attempt to look regal. But like the night of the Fated Ball, Jacks didn’t even have a coat. He wore a loose shirt the color of spilled brandy, with ripped shoulders that made it look as if he’d torn off some sort of ornamentation, hanging untucked over burnt auburn trousers that were shoved into unpolished leather boots. Casual was too fancy of a word to describe him, yet magic still pulsed around him in a glow of burning copper.

In one ungloved hand he held a fresh apple, as white and bright as a virgin’s sheets. “Good evening, Donatella.”

“You know it’s not polite to sneak into a young lady’s room.”

“I think we left politeness behind a while ago. But”—Jacks shoved away from the doorframe in one lithe movement and offered her his arm—“I promise to be on my best behavior tonight.”

“That doesn’t say much.” Tella smoothed her full skirts as she stood up from her perch. The gown she wore felt heavier than any of the others Jacks had sent. One half of it was unadorned pearl-blue silk, the other was an ornate combination of jeweled swirls, twilight-blue velvet flowers, and glacier-blue lace embellishments, which spilled down her skirt in a haphazard combination that reminded Tella of a knocked-over jewelry box.

“Don’t worry,” Jacks said. “I’m sure El will adore you.”

“Did you just refer to the empress as El?”

“‘Elantine’ is such a mouthful.”

“You call me Donatella.”

“I like the way it tastes.” Jacks’s teeth broke the skin of his apple slowly, revealing deep red flesh as he took a wide bite.

Tella forced herself to accept his arm, knowing that any signs of discomfort and displeasure only seemed to give him delight. But to her surprise he behaved like a gentleman as they traveled up the steps of Elantine’s golden tower to meet the empress on the topmost floor.

Jacks held Tella’s arm lightly enough that she could have pulled away at any time, more focused on his apple than on her, until after a few flights of stairs. He dropped her arm and turned to face her, abruptly.

His sharp teeth bit into his lips instead of his piece of fruit, while his quicksilver eyes danced over her hair. Tella had lost several flowers on the stairs. It was probably for the best. Yet Jacks began to frown as he took her in.

“What is it?” Tella asked.

“The empress needs to believe we’re in love.” He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. “My situation with El is complicated. If I could kill her, I would, but there are protections on her that prevent me. And though she’s old, she’s not close to dying. She is, however, close to passing on her throne to me. But that won’t happen until I’ve found someone she believes is suitable to share it with me.”

“And you think I’m that someone?” A laugh accompanied Tella’s words.

But Jacks did not smile. “You convinced Legend to help you, you died and came back to life, and you dared to kiss me. Of course you’re that someone.” He held her eyes for a moment before his gaze swept past her.

Tella followed the line of his eyes to a mirror hanging on the wall. It reflected both of them. To Tella’s astonishment, Jacks appeared different in the mirror; it must have been incapable of capturing his true essence. With his ripped shirt and unpolished boots, he still looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed or fallen from a low window—but he also appeared younger, more boyish, mischievous rather than evil incarnate. His eyes were a bright shade of blue without any cold hints of silver. His skin was still pale, but there was a hint of color in his cheeks and a subtle curve to his mouth that made him look as if he were on the verge of saying something naughty.

“You’re staring at the wrong person, darling.” Jacks gently pressed a hand to her cheek, shifting her view so that Tella saw her own reflection.

She had sat in front of a mirror pinning flowers into her hair for more than an hour, but she hadn’t looked at herself, not really. Sometimes when she gazed in the mirror she swore she saw Death’s shadow instead of her own. But as she peered at her reflection now, she did not see Death. Her skin glowed, not just with color from climbing up the stairs, but with life capable of days and weeks and seasons of adventures not yet had. Beside her, Jacks suddenly looked even paler in comparison. His glow meant he would never die of natural causes or mortal wounds, but her radiance meant she would truly live.

“Other people might underestimate you, Donatella, but I don’t.”

Tella tried not to feel anything at his words. All her life she’d been underestimated, by her father who thought she was useless, her sister who loved her but feared she couldn’t stay out of trouble, her nana who thought of her as only a nuisance; Tella even underestimated herself at times. It was almost cruel that the one who seemed to believe in her the most was the same being who was also slowly killing her.

“If I fail, will you kill me early, the same way you murdered your last fiancée?”

Jacks’s expression shuttered. “I didn’t kill her.”

“Then who did?”

“Someone who didn’t want me to take the throne.”

Jacks dropped his apple, letting it roll down the stairs as he took Tella’s arm. He held her a little closer than before, almost protectively, but he stayed silent as they continued climbing, as if her mention of his former fiancée had genuinely upset him. Perhaps if Tella believed him she would have felt guilty. But he was the Prince of Hearts, and everyone knew the prince was not capable of love. The stories said he had one true love, but Tella doubted he’d found her. And given how casually he’d mentioned wishing he could kill the empress, Tella doubted Jacks was affected by the loss of one human life.

“Why does the throne matter to you so much?” Tella asked after a few more steps. “As a Fate I’d think you wouldn’t want to be burdened by mortal power.”

“Maybe I like the idea of wearing a crown.” Jacks tilted his head, letting more golden hair fall into his eyes. “Have you seen the emperor’s crown?”

“I can’t say I have.” But Tella had witnessed how carelessly Jacks dressed, and even if that weren’t the case, she couldn’t imagine the Prince of Hearts would fight so hard to be the heir simply so he could wear a crown.

She was about to ask what was so special about this crown when they finally stopped their ascent.

Tella hadn’t counted the number of flights they’d taken, but she imagined they were near the top of the tower. Two black lacquered doors waited for them, with guards dressed in full armor standing on either side. They must have recognized Jacks. Without a word the guards opened the doors.

Candles fell from every inch of a white ceiling, like waxy, glowing raindrops, filling the domed room with flickering spires of marigold light. Tella only had a moment to take it all in, to glance at the steam rising from the elaborate feast beneath the candles and the intricately carved stage on the other side of the room, before a feminine voice burst through the silence.

“You’re finally here!” Empress Elantine rose from a seat at the end of the banquet table.

Tella had expected a pale specter of a woman, thin and bony and colder than her nana Anna, but Elantine was full rosy cheeks, dark olive skin, and a round body that looked as if it would be very soft to hug.

“You, my dear, are lovely.” Elantine smiled and it was luminous, as if she’d been saving up grins to meet Tella. The expression lit up Her Majesty’s entire face, making the golden diadem atop her head and the jewels lining her royal-blue cloak shine even brighter.

Tella dropped into a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty. Jacks has told me a great deal about you.”

“Has he told you how he plans to kill me?”

Tella choked on a gasp.

“Don’t look so frightened. I’m only joking! Jacks is my favorite heir so far.” Elantine winked and folded Tella tightly into her arms.

Because of her nana Anna, who’d been slender as a tree branch, Tella had always thought of older people as fragile, breakable things, but Elantine hugged fiercely, warm and careless enough to wrinkle her immaculate garments.

After releasing Tella, Elantine embraced Jacks as well. She even ruffled his head as if he were a little boy. “You’d be so handsome if you put just the tiniest effort into your appearance.”

To Tella’s astonishment Jacks actually blushed; his skin was more blue than red, but it was definitely there. She didn’t know it was possible to fake a blush—there was no way he could have genuinely been embarrassed by her fussing—yet his pale cheeks turned a little blue. After a heartbeat he added a lopsided grin, no doubt to make the empress believe that even though he was shy, he appreciated her attentions. It was disturbing how good he was at this charade.

The empress beamed, but it quickly faded. “You look too thin, Jacks. I hope you’ll eat more than an apple tonight.” Elantine turned back to Tella. “You’ll have to make sure he eats enough. People are always trying to poison my dear Jacks, so he never munches on a thing at my little banquets. But hopefully he’ll enjoy himself tonight. I’ve ordered a feast fit for—well, me.”

Elantine laughed as she directed Jacks and Tella toward the table towering with food. Every dish imaginable, from honeycomb towers with edible flowers to a candied pig with an apple in its mouth, was present. There were miniature fruit trees growing chocolate-dipped plums and brown-sugar-glazed peaches. Wedges of cheese peeking out of miniature treasure chests made of pastry. Upside-down turtle shells filled with soup. Finger sandwiches shaped like actual fingers. Colorful plates of salted pink and red radishes. Water with lavender bubbles, and peach-colored wine with berries at the bottom of the glass.

“You’ll notice there are no servants. I wanted this to be an intimate affair to get to know you.” Elantine sat at the head of the table. There were only two additional chairs both facing the theatrical stage at the other end of the room. The wooden arch above it was carved with images of unadorned oval masks, frowning and grinning and scowling and laughing and making a variety of other odd faces as they looked down at the closed fairy tale–green curtain below.

“Now, tell me about yourself,” said the empress. “Jacks says you’re in Valenda searching for your missing mother?”

Tella opened her mouth to reply as she sat but rather than allow it, Elantine continued reciting an impressively long list of the other things Jacks had said about Tella. The empress even knew Tella’s birthday was coming up and promised to throw her a little party.

“Jacks also tells me you have a fixation with the Fates. I used to have a special Deck of Destiny myself, a long time ago. It never seemed to predict good things.” She laughed again.

The sound surprised Tella almost as much as it had the first time. She’d not expected Her Majesty to be so good-humored. Or to love Jacks so very much. She either nodded or laughed at whatever he said, and piled food on his plate as if he were a child, though Tella noticed Jacks did not touch any of it. He plucked the apple from the pig’s mouth, but he didn’t eat that, either. He just rolled it around the palm of one hand.

Then his other hand was on Tella’s neck, his cold fingers idly playing with her hair. It was for show, but it felt so unpracticed. As if it was the most natural thing for him to reach out and touch her. She swore she felt his gaze as well, as cool as morning frost; it brushed against her mouth as Jacks watched every bite she took.

“You both must try some of these.” Elantine pointed to a tray of palm-size cakes decorated to look like presents in every combination of colors. From tangerine and teal to silver and sea frost, the color of Jacks’s eyes.

“These are a traditional engagement dish exclusively for royalty. Only the royal baker will make them. It’s illegal for anyone else to commission them. There’s a different surprise in each one that symbolizes what your future together will hold. Some are filled with sugared cream to represent a sweet life, and others are filled with candied eggs symbolizing great fertility.” Elantine winked again and Tella nearly spit out her water.

Jacks, who had not eaten a thing since his apple on the stairs, plucked a jeweled cake covered in blue velvet frosting, the same color of Tella’s dress, and brought it to his mouth. When he pulled it away thick raspberry jam oozed out.

Elantine clapped. “It looks as if the two of you will always have passion. Now your turn, dear heart.”

Tella was never going to marry Jacks—she’d rather be trapped inside of a card—so it shouldn’t have mattered which cake she chose. But she really didn’t want to take a cake. There were enough predictions of her future as it was. Both Jacks and the empress were staring at her, though. This wasn’t a request; this was a challenge.

“Interesting,” Elantine murmured.

Tella looked down to find her fingers had plucked a soulless jet-black cake with a bow made of midnight-blue frosting—the same color as the wings tattooed on Dante’s back.

“It reminded me of the moonless night I met Jacks,” Tella lied.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the cake.” Elantine fixed her regal gaze upon the starburst-shaped opal ring on Tella’s finger. “I haven’t seen one of those in a very long time.”

“It was an heirloom of my mother’s,” Tella said.

“And she gave it to you?” Elantine said it just as warmly as everything else that evening, but Tella swore her eyes were now pinched at the corners, as if her smile was no longer genuine. “Did she tell you what it was for?”

“No, it was just one of the few things left behind when she disappeared.”

“And you wear it to remember her?” Elantine’s expression softened. “You really are a little gem. When Jacks first told me he was engaged again, I was skeptical. I feared—well, it doesn’t matter what I feared. I can now see why he would want you. But be careful with that heirloom of yours.” Her tone hushed to a whisper. “That looks like one of the keys from the Temple of the Stars, and, if it is, your mother must have paid a very high price for it.”

Tella’s eyes fell back to her hand. It seemed unbelievable, but the hopelessly hopeful part of her wondered if the ring she’d worn for the past seven years could be a key to unlocking her mother’s secrets.

“Pardon the interruption,” a raspy voice called out from the stage.

Tella looked up to see Armando dressed like the Murdered King—a Fate that could either represent betrayal or the return of something lost. He smiled at his small audience, the expression as chilling as his costume. A dripping red sword hung from his waist, a thick gash of blood stained his exposed throat, and a wicked crown made of daggers sat atop his head. “What a pleasure it is to be here tonight.”