Tella tossed her sister a grin. This was exactly what she’d hoped for. Although a part of her still couldn’t believe the rumors she’d heard over the past week were true. Caraval only occurred once a year, and she’d never known of two games being played so close together. But Tella supposed even Legend made exceptions for the empress.
Tella continued to look at her sister hopefully. “I’m surprised this is even a question!”
“I thought you didn’t like Elantine’s Day because it always overshadowed your birthday.”
Tella wobbled her head as she weighed her answer. Her true reasons for wanting to go had little to do with Elantine’s Day, although her sister was correct. For as long as Elantine had been empress of the Meridian Empire, her birthday had been a holiday, Elantine’s Day, which was ushered in with a full week of parties and dances, bended rules, and broken laws. On the girls’ home isle of Trisda, this holiday was only celebrated for one day, on the thirty-sixth day of the Growing Season, but it still overshadowed Tella’s birthday, which had the misfortune of occurring the day afterward.
“It will be worth it to visit Valenda,” Tella said. “When do we leave?”
“Three days,” Julian answered.
Scarlett puckered her mouth. “Tella, we need to discuss this first.”
“I thought you’ve always wanted to go to the capital, to see all its ancient ruins and the carriages that float through the sky, and this will be the party of the century! What’s there to talk about?”
“The count.”
Julian’s brown skin went gray.
Tella’s face might have done the same.
“The count lives in Valenda, and we can’t let him see you,” Scarlett said.
Scarlett was the overly cautious sister, but Tella couldn’t blame her for this reservation.
Count Nicolas d’Arcy was Scarlett’s former fiancé whom Scarlett’s father had arranged for her to marry. Before Caraval, Scarlett had only written him letters, but she’d believed herself in love with him. She’d also thought the count would keep both her and Tella safe—until Scarlett met him during Caraval and learned what a despicable human being he was.
Scarlett was right to worry about the count. If Scarlett’s former fiancé discovered Tella was alive, he could send word to their father—who believed Tella was dead—and it would shatter everything.
But things would also fall apart if Tella didn’t go with Legend and his performers to the Empire’s capital city of Valenda. She might not have had the chance to reread the letter from her friend, but she knew what he wanted, and she would never get it for him if she was separated from Legend and his performers.
During Caraval, Tella hadn’t been entirely certain who worked for Legend. But all of his performers would be on the boat to Valenda—Legend might even be on the boat as well, giving her the opportunity she needed to finally get the one thing her friend required.
“The count is so concerned with himself he probably wouldn’t recognize me even if I walked up to him and gave him a slap in the face,” Tella said. “We only met for a moment, and I was not looking my best.”
“Tella—”
“I know, I know, you want me to be serious,” Tella cut in. “I’m not trying to mock you. I’m fully aware of the danger, but I don’t think we need to be afraid of it. We could just as easily perish in a shipwreck, but if we let that fear stop us, we’ll never leave this isle again.”
Scarlett grimaced and turned to Julian. “Would you mind giving my sister and me a moment alone?”
Julian answered against Scarlett’s ear, too low for Tella to hear. Whatever he said made Scarlett blush. Then he left and Scarlett’s mouth flattened into a line as she and Tella enclosed themselves in Tella’s room.
Inside, unmentionables were everywhere. Stockings peeked out from the drawers of a dresser topped off with bonnets, while a variety of capes, gowns, and petticoats formed a path to her bed, which was covered in a teetering pile of furs that she’d won in a card game.
Tella knew Scarlett thought she was lazy. But Tella had a theory: Neat rooms were easy to rifle through and search undetected because it was simple to put carefully placed things exactly where they’d been. But messes, on the other hand, were difficult to re-create. With one sweeping gaze, Tella could see no one had been brave enough to lay a finger on her personal disaster. Everything appeared untouched, even though there now seemed to be an additional bed, which Tella imagined must have magically appeared, or more likely had been carried upstairs for her sister.
Tella didn’t know how long they’d be allowed to stay on the isle. She was relieved they weren’t being kicked out right away, although if they’d been evicted, maybe Scarlett would have been more eager to travel to Valenda. But Tella didn’t actually want her sister to be forced into anything; she hoped Scarlett would make the choice for herself. Though Tella could understand her sister’s reluctance. Tella had died during the last game. But that had been her decision, it was for a good reason, and she wasn’t planning on dying again. It had been as horrid for Tella as it had been for Scarlett. And there were still so many things Tella wanted—and needed—to do.
“Scar, I know you think I wasn’t being serious out there, but I think we need to start being happy rather than serious. I’m not saying we need to participate in Caraval, but I think we should at least go to Valenda with Julian and the others. What’s the point of all this glorious freedom if we don’t enjoy it? Our father wins if we keep living as if we’re still trapped beneath his heavy fists.”
“You’re right.”
Tella must have misheard. “Did you say I’m right?”
Scarlett nodded. “I’m done with being scared all the time.” She still sounded nervous, but her chin now lifted with something like determination. “I’d rather not play the game again, but I want to go with Julian to Valenda. I don’t want to trap myself here like our father trapped us on Trisda.”
Tella felt a surge of pride. Back on Trisda, Scarlett held on to her fear, as if it would keep her safe, but Tella could see her sister fighting to let it go. She really had changed during Caraval.