“Tella, please—” Scarlett took another tentative step, but when Tella wobbled, she froze again, terrified one false move would push her sister over the very edge she so badly wanted to rescue her from.
“Please, trust me.” Scarlett held out a hand. No longer stained in blood, she hoped she could save Tella in the way she hadn’t been able to save Julian in the tunnels. “I will find a way to take care of you. I love you so much.”
“Oh, Scar,” Tella said. Tears streamed down her pink cheeks. “I love you, too. And I wish I was strong like you. Strong enough to hope it could be better, but I can’t do this anymore.” Tella’s hazel eyes met Scarlett’s, as sad as fresh-cut wood. Then she closed them, as if Tella couldn’t bear to look at her. “I meant it when I said I’d rather die at the edge of the world than live a miserable life on Trisda. I’m so sorry.”
With trembling fingers, Tella blew her sister a kiss.
“Don’t—”
Tella stepped off the edge of the balcony.
“No!” Scarlett wailed, watching as her sister plummeted into the night.
With no wings to fly her down, she fell to her death.
38
Scarlett would only remember fragments and pieces of what happened next. She would not remember how Tella had looked like a doll, knocked from a very high shelf, until the blood started pooling around her.
Even then Scarlett couldn’t look away from her sister’s lifeless body. She just kept wishing. Wishing Tella would move. Wishing Tella would get up and walk. Wishing for a clock that could turn back time and give Scarlett one last chance to save her.
Scarlett remembered the time-twisting pocket watch she’d seen her first day there. If only Julian had stolen that watch instead.
But Julian was dead too.
Scarlett choked on a sob. She’d lost both of them. Scarlett cried until her eyes and her chest and parts of her body she didn’t know could hurt began to ache.
The count stepped closer, as if to offer some form of consolation.
“Stop.” Scarlett held out a shaking hand. “Please.” She choked on the word, but she couldn’t bear anyone’s comfort, especially not his.
“Scarlett,” said her father. He approached her as the count backed away. Or rather, her father shuffled. Hunched over, as if an invisible pack were tied to his back, and for the first time Scarlett didn’t see a monster but rather just a sad, old bully. She saw how his fair hair had grayed at the edges, and his eyes were shot with blood. A dragon with no fire and broken wings. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” Scarlett cut him off; he deserved this. “I don’t ever want to see you again. I don’t ever want to hear your voice, and I don’t want you to try to ease your conscience by apologizing. You brought this about. You drove her to this place.”
“I was just trying to protect you.” Governor Dragna’s nostrils flared. His wings might have been broken but he still had his flames after all. “If you’d listened to me, rather than always being such a disobedient, ungrateful wretch of a—”
“Sir!” Jovan, who Scarlett had failed to notice before, boldly stepped in front of Governor Dragna. “I think you’ve said en—”
“Get out of my way.” The governor slapped Jovan across the face.
“Don’t touch her!” Scarlett and Legend both spoke at once, though it was Legend who moved forward in a flash. Sharp, pale lines and dark, dark eyes now focused on the governor. “You will not hurt any more of my players.”
“Or what are you going to do?” Governor Dragna snarled. “I know the rules. I know you can’t harm me as long as the game is in play.”
“Then you also know the game ends at sunrise, which is approaching fast. When that happens, I’m no longer bound by those rules.” Legend bared his teeth. “Since you have seen my true face, that’s even more incentive for me to rid the world of you.”
Legend flicked his wrist, and every candled lamp and fire pit throughout the balcony turned brighter, casting a hellish red-orange glow over the obsidian floor.
Governor Dragna paled.
“I may not have cared about your daughter,” Legend went on, “but I do care about my players, and I know what you have done.”
“What is he talking about?” Scarlett asked.
“Don’t listen to him,” said the governor.
“Your father thought he could kill me,” Legend said. “The governor mistakenly believed Dante was the master of Caraval, and took his life instead.”