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She waited.
Waited for Jacks to tell her she was wrong. Waited for his assurance that his kiss would not kill her. Waited for him to tell her she should know better than to put too much faith in old stories. Waited for him to tease her for being so gullible and believing that he was a long-lost Fate who’d returned. Waited for him to tell her that he was not the Prince of Hearts.
Instead, he licked the blood at the corner of his mouth. “You should have brought me Legend’s name.”
14
For a moment Tella’s entire world stopped breathing. Every person near the dance floor had ceased moving, their rapt faces frozen in exaggerated states of shock at Tella and Jacks’s display. For a heartbeat Tella could only hear the cut-glass glitter tinkling softly as it continued to fall to the floor.
The Prince of Hearts—the Fate famous for his fatal kisses, who had haunted both her dreams and nightmares, and cursed her to unrequited love after drawing his card from her mother’s Deck of Destiny—was not merely a myth. He was real, and he was standing right in front of Tella. His pale skin glowed so unnaturally, if the entire ballroom hadn’t been frozen, she imagined they’d have all seen him for what he truly was.
He wasn’t entirely human, or human at all. He was something magical, something other, something wrong. A Fate.
And she had kissed him.
“I didn’t expect you to look so surprised. The coin I sent was a rather obvious hint.” Jacks reached for her and carefully smoothed out one of her curls, his hands much gentler than they’d been moments ago. She wanted to rage, to scream, to slap his reddened mouth, but it seemed he’d put her, along with the entire ballroom, under a spell.
“What have you done to everyone?” she breathed.
“Stopped their hearts. It’s like pausing time. It won’t last long, unlike what I’ve done to yours.” His jaw twitched as his cold gaze traveled toward her chest.
Tella took a shallow breath, because apparently that was all she was capable of. When they’d danced her heart had pounded, her veins had heated, her blood had raced. But now she could feel her heart struggling, beating too slowly, a weak echo of what it should have been. “Am I going to die?”
“Not yet.”
Tella’s knees buckled.
Jacks gleamed brighter. “This is going to be so much fun, I almost hate to tell you there’s still a way to save yourself.”
“How?”
“Bring me the second thing I want.”
“What is that?” Tella gritted out.
Jacks’s long fingers finished smoothing her hair, and his eyes met her gaze once more. She’d called his eyes silver-blue before, but now they shined just silver, twinkling with growing pleasure as her terror multiplied. “I want Legend the man, not just his identity. I want you to win the game and then give him to me.”
Before Tella could react, the moment shattered and the ballroom flooded with sound once again. She swore she’d never witnessed so many intentionally loud whispers, covered up with artificial smiles, as partygoers pretended not to be scandalized by Jacks and Tella’s display. Though one person did not appear to be hiding how he felt. Dante.
Tella’s already mangled insides twisted further.
Dante stood casually with one elbow propped against a thick metal bar near the mouth of the cage, but the rigid set of his jaw, the hooded sweep of his gaze, and the derisive line of his lips told Tella that he was far from calm. He looked furious.
His reaction shouldn’t have angered her. And her kiss shouldn’t have angered him, given that Dante was partly responsible for this mess. Unless he was only acting, which made more sense. Pretending to care about her was probably one of the roles he’d been given for Caraval.
Jacks’s gaze followed Tella’s and sharpened.
“I think he still believes you’re his.” Jacks’s pale skin gleamed brighter as he stroked a thumb under his chin, looking as if he were coming up with a truly terrible idea.
“This doesn’t involve him. Dante is one of Legend’s performers,” Tella hissed. “He’s just playing a role. He doesn’t even like me.”
“That’s not how it looks from here.” Jacks pressed his cold lips to her forehead, a mockery of a kiss, as he said, “I don’t give second chances, but I’m giving one to you. I wasn’t lying when I said that I want this charade to be convincing. If anyone discovers this engagement is a lie, or uncovers the truth about me or our arrangement, the consequences will be unfortunate. Take your tattooed friend over there.” Jacks turned his eyes toward Dante again. “You said he’s one of Legend’s performers, so I can’t kill him this week. But if he discovers the truth, I could easily end his life once the game is over.”
“No!” Tella objected, right as Jacks raised his voice above hers to announce, “Since it seems I’ve momentarily stolen everyone’s attention, now would probably be a good time to share some excellent news.”
As if the partygoers were puppets or part of an orchestrated dance, each of their coiffed heads angled his way.
“Many of you know my former fiancée, Alessandra, died late last year. Her death was a great loss to the Empire, one I thought I’d never recover from. But as you can see, I’ve found someone else, someone who I hope you will all adore as much as I do. Meet my new fiancée, Donatella.”
