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“Perhaps you’re about to lose someone else,” Armando rasped. For a young man who claimed not to care about her future, he seemed to enjoy how dark it was.
Pretending to ignore him, Tella flipped over another card. She didn’t pay attention to where she took it from, imagining it would be the Aracle—following the same pattern she’d discovered as a child. But instead of a gold-lined mirror, the card before her revealed a sharp black crown tipped with gleaming black opals, and broken into five ragged pieces.
The Shattered Crown.
Suddenly Armando no longer looked entertained. His mouth opened and shut like a puppet who’d not been fed any words.
“Is this one not terrible enough for you?” Tella asked.
Although, truthfully, this card didn’t bother Tella nearly as much as the others. The Shattered Crown represented an impossible choice between two equally difficult paths. But Tella didn’t believe in impossible choices. In her experience one path was always clearly worse than another. Yet Tella still hesitated before flipping over a fourth card; the Shattered Crown was new, and while a masochistic part of Tella was curious as to what other surprises fate might have in store, she was tired of Fates toying with her future.
“I need to see another card,” said Armando.
“Why?” Tella asked. “I’ve just shown you three dreadful ones, isn’t that enough?”
“I thought you were familiar with fortune-telling. Every story has four parts—the beginning, the middle, the almost-ending, and the true ending. Your future is not complete until you flip over the fourth and reveal the true ending.”
“I still don’t understand why Legend cares about any of this.”
“Maybe you need to ask yourself that question, not me?” Armando’s eyes dropped to the upturned cards, which told a story of broken hearts, lost loved ones, and impossible choices. Tella didn’t see how any of it connected to Caraval, unless, like Jacks, Legend also found pleasure in the pain of others.
She closed her eyes this time, hoping for a favorable Fate like Mistress Luck, or Her Majesty’s Gown, which signified bold changes and extraordinary gifts.
The card’s smooth metal surfaces didn’t spark with magic like the Aracle she kept hidden away. But she did feel something as her fingers danced atop them. Most of the cards were cool to the touch, but a few were icier than others and some were warmer. Then there was one that burned with so much heat Tella was tempted to lift her hand. She flipped it over instead.
The metal glowed violet as a lovely woman in an ash-lavender gown stared at Tella from behind the bars of a giant silver birdcage.
The Lady Prisoner.
A knot formed inside of Tella’s chest, and not just because this card reminded her of the vision that the Aracle had shown of her own mother. The Lady Prisoner held a double meaning: sometimes her picture promised love, but usually it meant sacrifice. In all the stories, she was said to be innocent of any crimes, but she let herself be caged in the place of someone she deeply loved.
Nigel’s words returned to Tella then. Be warned, winning the game will come at a cost you will later regret.
Tella glared at Armando. “I’ve chosen my cards. Give me the next clue.”
His mouth twisted into something unreadable.
“If you even try to tell me you can’t—”
“Keep your claws in your gloves.” Armando rose from his chair and crossed the small space to press his hand against one of the mirrors on the wall. It opened with a hiss, exposing a cool tunnel formed of earth and ancient spiderwebs.
Tella had heard there were secret passages hidden throughout all of Valenda. This must have been one of them.
“Follow this path until something urges you to stop, and there you’ll find the next clue. But remember, Miss Dragna, Caraval isn’t about the clues. Your sister didn’t win because she solved simple riddles. She won because of what she was willing to sacrifice for those riddles, and for what she was willing to sacrifice in order to find you.”
21
The world of the game and the world outside of it were beginning to blur into each other. Tella could feel the pieces of both fitting too neatly together.
r /> The game was not real. Tella knew this. Everyone knew this. Yet, as she traveled through Armando’s hidden tunnel toward the second clue, she found herself questioning if maybe the game was more real than she wanted it to be.
Tella had entered Caraval believing her bargain with Jacks was genuine, and if she won the game and brought him Legend, she would be able to save her mother. After the ball, she’d also come to believe that Jacks was the true Prince of Hearts, a Fate who’d somehow escaped. But this was where she’d stopped believing.
To even be tempted by the idea that any part of the game was real could lead her into a dangerous mental spiral. Legend was not out to destroy the Fates, and the Fates weren’t out to destroy Legend.
But if Tella was right, and if it was all a game, would she really meet Legend if she won? Or would he be played by another actor?
Legend was always played by actors. Yet Tella had believed that it was different this time. Nigel had promised. If you win Caraval, the first face you see will be Legend’s.
