Scarlett must not have been so certain, or she must have had no idea. She rose from her seat and opened the door right as a servant scurried by. “What’s all the commotion?”
“Her Majesty passed away,” the servant confirmed. “They’re saying the new heir—her missing child—is now making his first appearance from the golden tower. Everyone is going into the glass courtyard to see. You can probably view the tower from your window.”
The maid darted off and Tella crossed the room to part the curtains of the largest window wider. Light streamed in, honey-thick and bright. The sun had made its way out from behind the clouds at last and seemed to be making up for the lazy job it had done that afternoon. With the mourning bells still ringing, it felt wrong for it to be shining so brightly, beaming over the entire courtyard, which was indeed filling with people.
“I can’t believe the empress is dead,” Scarlett said.
“You would have liked her,” Tella murmured. “She gave hugs the way I’d always wished our nana Anna had.”
“Nana actually gave you hugs?”
“Once,” Tella said. “Trust me, you weren’t missing anything.”
Tella had not cried when her nana Anna had died. Although the woman had made a little effort to raise her, Tella never felt any affection toward her. But Tella had liked the empress. Their acquaintance had been brief, but Elantine had shifted Tella’s course; if their paths had never crossed, Tella’s mother might still be trapped in a card.
Tella craned her neck as she looked past the glass courtyard toward the golden tower. Every window and balcony was open; from them maids and servants tossed black flower petals onto the gathering crowd below. The grim tribute was even sadder than the bells.
Only one balcony failed to rain down any flowers. Instead, this terrace flew royal-blue flags with the Meridian Empire’s bold white crest. In the center of it stood one figure.
Every hair on Tella’s body stood at attention when she saw him.
Tella could not clearly make out his face, but she could see his top hat. Sharp and black and unmistakably Legend.
That blackguard.
Tella knew Legend was full of secrets, but this was one she’d not even considered. He was posing as Elantine’s missing child. This was why he’d left her on the steps right as the fireworks had begun; he’d gone off to watch them with the empress. Although Tella imagined he would have left her anyway.
It was so inappropriate, but Tella couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up inside her. She’d thought she was the key to his entire game. But, of course, Legend was playing more than one game. He hadn’t come to Valenda merely to destroy the Fates and take all their powers for himself. He’d chosen this city as his game board so he could claim the throne.
EPILOGUE
In fairy tales, sixteen was always the age when girls either learned they had magical powers, were truly princesses in disguise, or were cursed and needed a handsome prince to help them break the dark enchantment. Tella didn’t know what would await her during her seventeenth year, but whatever it was, it would be more spectacular than any of those things.
With all the sorrow of Elantine’s Day, she’d nearly forgotten her birthday. Yet she’d magically woken at midnight, at the very first moment.
Her heart was still a little heavy, but she’d decided carrying it around would only make her stronger.
Two nights before, when she’d taken her mother’s place in that card, Tella had feared that was her true ending. But she was too young for endings. Her adventures were only beginning. They would be bigger than promises, and brighter than constellations. By the end of them, Tella would be the legendary one.
Legend would regret leaving her on those steps without so much as a good-bye.
Or perhaps he already did regret it.…
Tella quietly sat up in bed. The room was dark, full of night and shadows, and yet Tella saw the gift as clear as if it were daylight. A single red rose with a flawless white stem sat on the table beside her bed. Beneath it a silver envelope managed to shine, because, of course, everything about Legend shone in the dark.
Tella took the card and crept out of the bed toward the window.
She was still furious with him. She was going to make him regret walking away from her. But her heart seemed to have forgotten that. It tripped and skipped and beat out an unwieldy rhythm as she opened the note he’d left for her.
It smelled like him, of ink and secrets and wicked magic. His writing was all thick, dark strokes. As she read she refused to smile, but something like hope began to grow in her heart.
* * *
Donatella,
I believe it’s your birthday. I also believe we have unfinished business; I still owe you a prize for winning Caraval. Find me whenever you wish to collect.
I’ll be waiting.