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Now everything was shades of black and gray. Even the candlelight lining the bridge was foggy gloom instead of golden. She tried not to panic, but her heart beat faster with every step as she crossed back over the bridge and returned to a world no longer full of color.
Caraval had shifted to black and white.
Scarlett dropped the cider, buttery gold liquid splashing over gray walkways, the only puddle of bright amid the awful new dull. The boy with the monkey was nowhere to be seen. He was probably laughing at her as he pushed his cart, searching for a new victim.
She looked up and found herself near the Glass Tavern’s back exit. Aiko had just stepped outside, her bright dress now charcoal.
“You look dreadful,” she said. “I’m guessing you didn’t catch the young man you were after?”
Scarlett shook her head. Behind Aiko, the door to the tavern was closing. Scarlett scanned the inside quickly enough to see Julian had still not arrived, or if he had, he’d already left. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”
“Then make it into something better.” Aiko strolled down the cobbled street as if the world could crumble around her and she’d just keep going. Scarlett wanted to feel like that, but the game seemed to be constantly working against her, and she imagined it was easy for Aiko, since she was only observing. No one had stolen her sister, or the color from her world. Scarlett could picture Aiko gliding on air if enough bits of earth fell away. The only thing she held on to securely was the battered notebook in her hand. Brownish green, the color of forgotten memories, abandoned dreams, and bitter gossip.
It was an unattractive thing, yet—
Scarlett’s thought broke off. The journal was in color! An ugly color. But in a world made of black and white, it called to Scarlett. Maybe this was how the cider worked? It took away the colors of everything so Scarlett could clearly see the things that really mattered—or find the next clue.
Number four will cost you something valuable.
Nigel’s advice really had been clue number three. After Scarlett followed the boy with a heart made of black, he had led her to the boy with the cider, which had taken away her ability to see colors—costing her something valuable.
Her chest now fluttered with excitement, rather than panic. She hadn’t been tricked; she’d been given what she needed to find the fourth clue.
Scarlett followed as Aiko paused in front of a busy waffle-maker. He dipped one of his pastries in the darkest chocolate before passing it to Aiko in exchange for a glimpse at a page in her journal.
Carefully, Scarlett tried to take a look as well.
Aiko snapped the book shut. “If you want to see what’s inside, you’ll have to give me something like everyone else.”
“What sort of something?” Scarlett asked.
“Do you always focus on what you’re giving up, rather than what you’ll be gaining? Some things are worth pursuit regardless of the cost.” Aiko beckoned Scarlett onto a street lined with hanging lanterns, smelling of flowers and flutes and long-lost love. The road narrowed, a watery canal hugging one side as the other curved around a carousel made of roses.
“A song for a donation.” A man in front of a pipe organ held out a thick hand.
Aiko dropped something, too small for Scarlett to see, in his palm. “Try to make it pretty.”
The organist began to play a melancholy tune, and the carousel started to move, spinning slowly at first. If Tella were there, Scarlett imagined she would have hopped up on it, plucked its red roses, and put them in her hair.
Red!
Scarlett watched as the rosy carousel continued to twirl, shedding brilliant red petals onto the path. A few landed on Aiko’s waffle as well, sticking to the chocolate.
Scarlett couldn’t tell if her senses were coming back, or if the carousel was somehow important, for at the same moment that Scarlett realized she could see the rich red of its petals, a gentleman with an eye patch walked by. Like everything else he was painted in shades of gray and black, except for the crimson cravat around his neck. It was the deepest hue of red she’d ever seen. His face was equally hypnotic. He possessed the kind of dark good looks that made Scarlett wonder why everyone else wasn’t staring as well.
She debated following him. He was mystery and unanswered questions. But something about him made her feel perilous shades of silky black. He moved through the crowd like a wraith, graceful but with an edge that felt a little too dangerous for her liking, and even though she felt a pull toward him, Aiko’s journal called to her just as strongly.
The pipe organist’s song picked up speed, and the carousel spun faster and faster. Petals landed on more than just Aiko’s dessert. They flew until the path in front of them turned to red velvet and the canal beside them transformed into blood, leaving the carousel naked save for its thorns.
The few other people on the street clapped.
Scarlett felt as if there were a deeper lesson there, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. Her vision was back to full color. The gentleman with the patch had almost disappeared from view, yet Scarlett continued to feel an unwanted pull toward him. If he’d been wearing a top hat, she might have wondered if he was Legend. Or maybe this enigmatic young man was a decoy Legend had placed in the crowd to lure her away from the actual clue. Earlier that night, as
she looked at the winking bridge, Scarlett would have sworn she’d felt Legend’s eyes on her, spying on her attempts to figure out his clues.
Scarlett only had a moment left to make her decision—if she was going to follow the young man, or try to look in Aiko’s journal, the only thing untouched by red petals. If Scarlett’s theory about the cider was right, both the young man and the journal were significant, but only one could lead her closer to Tella. “If I do make this trade to look in your notebook, what is it I’ll be gaining? Is it the fourth clue?”
Aiko swayed, humming cryptically. “It’s possible; lots of things are.”
