Finale (Caraval, 3)

Tella had naively imagined that the Immortal Library would be as easy to find as the Vanished Market had been. It was almost as laughable as the idea that the word easy still remained in her vocabulary.

She gave a delicate snort.

If Legend heard it, he didn’t react. His broad shoulders didn’t shift, and his dark head didn’t turn away from the waters of the cracked fountain he’d been staring into—the same fountain they’d kissed in front of on the night Tella realized she was falling in love with him.

If only falling out of love with him was as easy.

She’d never before wanted to stop loving Legend. But today, she kept thinking about what Jacks had tried to offer as they searched the decrepit columns that surrounded the ruins of the Cursed Wife. He didn’t have his full powers, so he couldn’t actually take away any of Tella’s emotions for longer than a day or truly change her feelings, but she was a little tempted by the idea of feeling indifferent, rather than feeling everything.

She knew Legend remembered the night he’d carried her here and then kissed her until she’d forgotten her pain. If she closed her eyes, she could recall it all. She could remember the way he’d carried her to the mossy steps before the ruins, how they’d talked of their pasts, and then how they’d kissed. She could remember the soft, asking sensation of his lips against her mouth and her neck and the rough way his hands had dug into the rope around her waist, pulling her even closer to him as he whispered how much he wanted her.

He had to remember. But he refused to look at her. He practically treated her like a stranger. It was the same this morning at the other ruins they’d visited. When he spoke, it was either in short answers to one of her questions, or terse commands.

It was unfair that out of all the plans Tella had recently made, the only one that had worked involved pushing him away. She thought she could handle Legend not loving her, but she wasn’t doing very well with the idea of him despising her.

She circled the fountain again, even though they’d already scoured these ruins for images that might have represented the Immortal Library and led her to the Ruscica. They’d taken turns dripping blood on anything that appeared symbolic. But either the entrance of the Immortal Library wasn’t here, or it would take more than blood to open it.

Legend raked a hand through his dark hair before finally turning away from the fountain and silently starting toward the crumbling steps that led back down to the streets. They were both dressed in the sort of ordinary clothes that made people easy to overlook. Tella was wearing a short-sleeved dress the color of muddy lake water, while Legend wore simple brown pants and a homespun shirt with fraying sleeves—yet the bastard still managed to move with the arrogance of someone who knew eyes would turn his way no matter what he wore. His steps possessed the sort of confidence that some people searched their whole lives for.

“Are you coming?” he said, tone gruff, as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Depends on where you’re going.” The voice that traveled up from the base of the steps below them was crystallized loveliness, clear and delicate and unbreakably strong.

Tella swept closer just to hear it better. Legend tried to step in front of her, but Tella had to see who the voice belonged to.

The woman who appeared at the top of the steps was almost as pretty as the sound of her words. A gauzy peach dress billowed above the cracked ground as she moved, the same way the Maiden Death’s tattered gown had, as if a magical breeze followed wherever she went. She stood taller than Legend. Her skin was pale and hard as marble, her hair nearly shorn to the scalp, and on top of her head rested a thin gold circlet, which made her look like an ancient princess.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” she said to Legend in that same hypnotic voice.

He replied with an irresistible smile. “Most people think so.”

“Do you think so?” The entrancing woman turned back to Tella.

But as soon as she had asked her question, all Tella could see were images of Legend. She pictured him during Caraval, when he’d waited for her in front of the Temple of the Stars, with only a wide cloth wrapped around his lower half, revealing his glorious chest in all its sculpted splendor.

“You should see him without a shirt on. He’s magnificent.” Tella’s mouth hung open as soon as the words were out. She didn’t even know this woman. And she wasn’t supposed to be in love with Legend anymore.

But Legend didn’t smirk or grin as he normally might have. In fact, he looked murderous.

The woman laughed, the sound as captivating as her voice. It begged Tella to laugh with her. But this time Tella fought against the urge to give in as she took in the woman’s appearance once more. Tella’s eyes darted back up to the circlet around her head. It was covered in ancient symbols, which Tella couldn’t read, but she imagined that if she could have deciphered them, the symbols would have told her that this woman wasn’t an ancient princess, but the Fated Priestess, Priestess.

Her magic was in her voice. That’s why Tella had answered her so honestly. Whenever Priestess, Priestess asked a question, a person had the choice between answering it truthfully or fighting the question and dying. Her voice wasn’t just compelling, it was deadly.

“I can already see that playing with you two is going to be fun,” said the Fate. “Would you like to stay here and play with me?”

All of the hairs on Tella’s arms rose. The word no crashed against her skull, followed by never, and then the words I’d rather kill you. But she knew it would be a mistake to scream any of those the way she wanted to.

They needed to get away.

But the words no and never kept pounding at her skull. Pounding and pounding and—

“I’m afraid we have somewhere else we need to go,” Legend answered smoothly.

Tella regained the ability to think, but it only lasted for a moment.

“That’s disappointing.” The Fate’s mouth fell into a pout. “Where are you two going that could possibly be more interesting than spending time with me?”

Images of the Immortal Library ripped from Decks of Destiny took over Tella’s thoughts. She saw magical bookshelves full of forbidden volumes, and then the Ruscica open to a page with detailed instructions of how to kill the Fallen Star.

“We’re going to ruins around Valenda in search of the Immortal Library,” Legend said. His voice was still completely level. Tella didn’t know if he wasn’t even trying to fight the questions, or if the magic affected him more than her, making it impossible to hold off from answering.

Sometime between now and the last question, the Priestess had moved closer to him. Her long white fingers were on his arm, trailing up to his neck. “That place isn’t meant for humans. What would I need to do to make you stay here with me instead?”

The question wasn’t directed at Tella this time—it didn’t press against her skull. And yet she sensed the Fate had placed more magic behind it. Tella could feel the question filling the ruins with a sickly sweet stench as the Fate’s hands climbed into Legend’s hair, the same way Esmeralda’s had, and Tella feared the Fate wasn’t just using her powers to compel Legend to answer a question. She wanted to possess him.

“Nothing will change his mind!” Tella shouted, drawing the wretched Fate’s attention her way.

The Priestess’s lips thinned. “You don’t have a strong sense of self-preservation, do you?”

“I’m stronger than most people think,” Tella said.

She thought she saw a fraction of Legend’s missing smile return.

And before the Fate could ask another question, the earth began to shake. The ruins rattled. The steps split, the cursed fountain cracked in half, wine spilling all over the ground, as the remains of the ruined mansion collapsed in a thunderous cloud of dust and debris.

The dust was so thick Tella couldn’t see Legend or the Priestess, but she thought she heard the Fate’s footsteps running away as Tella searched for a safe place to hide until the earthquake ceased.

All she could see was dust. But she didn’t choke on it, and though the world around her was collapsing, she realized that nothing had actually touched her.

“Legend?” she called tentatively, although she was fairly certain the Priestess was now gone. “Tell me you’re doing this.”

The dust vanished, the shaking stopped, and the ruins returned to as they had been. The only cracks that remained were the ones that had been there before. An illusion.

Legend appeared next. But unlike the ruins, he looked much different than before. Damp hair clung to his brow, and his bronze skin looked gray as he stumbled toward Tella.

Legend never stumbled.

Her arms went around him instinctively, and either he was truly weakened or they’d reached a temporary truce, because he didn’t push her away. He leaned heavily against her, making it impossible for her to move. He had drained himself using too much magic.

Legend was private about many things, including anything involving his powers. But she knew his magic was at its peak during Caraval because it was fueled by all the emotions of everyone in attendance. He’d probably been stronger at the palace for similar reasons.

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble to scare her,” Tella said.

Legend’s fingers found her hair and combed through her curls, an idle gesture that he probably didn’t even realize he was doing. “I didn’t want her asking questions you might refuse to answer.”

“I’m not that stubborn,” Tella huffed.

“Yes, you are,” he murmured, “but I like that about you.” Legend’s hand left her curls and wrapped around the vulnerable back of her neck—definitely an intentional gesture. He stroked her skin with fingers that made her think he wasn’t as weak as he seemed and then he tilted her head back until she was looking up at him.

His color was already returning to his handsome face, making him look a little untouchable, even as he continued to touch her.

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. For a weak moment she hoped this wasn’t a temporary truce, and that he’d finally seen through her speech from last night.

He released her neck and pulled away. “We should go.”

“But I’ve just gotten here.”

The Prince of Hearts appeared at the top of the steps. He leaned against a crumbling rail, an elegant mess of wrinkled clothing, lazy movements, and golden hair, which hung over eyes that appeared as if he’d been watching them for a while.

Ice coated Tella’s skin. But it was different from the chill she felt whenever Jacks looked at her, because his eyes had moved next to her, latching on to Legend, who Jacks, along with the rest of the empire, had only known as Dante—a young man who was supposed to be dead, a young man who’d just used a frightening amount of power, a young man who didn’t curse at Jacks, or try to protect Tella as he had with the Priestess.

She swiftly turned to see Legend. His broad shoulders were stiff, his expression was fixed. He stood still as a statue beside her, the same way he had the night of the Fated Ball when Jacks had used his powers to briefly stop everyone’s hearts from beating.

“Jacks! Stop this!” Tella demanded.

But the Prince of Hearts didn’t even acknowledge her. His blue eyes had taken on a ravenous look, and in that moment Tella could see what he was thinking. Unlike the other Fates, Jacks was at only half power; he wanted the rest of his powers back, and Legend was the one with the ability to restore him.

“Stay away from him!” Tella begged. Legend was already weakened from using so much magic; she didn’t want to think what a power exchange with Jacks would do to him right now.

But the Prince of Hearts continued to ignore her; his rabid gaze stayed on Legend’s frozen form. “You know, I wondered if you were Legend during Caraval, and then again when I saw you in her dream. But then you died.”

“He’s not Legend,” Tella lied.

Jacks finally tilted his head her way, but none of the mischief that had been in his eyes last night was there. He looked more like the cruel boy she’d first met in the carriage who’d threatened to push her out just to see if she survived. “If he’s not Legend, then who created the illusion I just saw, and how is he alive? The reports I heard said the new heir had been killed.”

“Those were rumors,” Tella said. “I started them to keep the Fates away.”

Jacks laughed but his eyes remained cold. “For once I hope you’re lying, my love. And if you’re not, then I’m so sorry.”

Tella clutched her breastbone and doubled over, suddenly dizzy and nauseous and unable to breathe. The ruins, Jacks, Legend, everything turned into a blur, and stars burst before her eyes as pain blinded her.

“What the hell—” Legend cursed, finally free of Jacks’s control.

“Don’t make another move toward her,” Jacks warned, “unless you wish her to die.”

“Jacks—” Tella gasped as she dropped to her knees, no longer able to stand. “Why…”

“What have you done?” Legend roared.

“I’m giving her a heart attack,” Jacks said calmly. “It will kill her very soon, unless you give me my full powers back right now. Tick. Tock. She doesn’t have long left.”

“Jacks…” Tella panted. She couldn’t believe he was really doing this. “Don’t … do…”

“I’ll do it,” Legend said. “Stop hurting her, and I’ll restore your powers with some of mine. But only if you swear right now, in blood, to never use any of your abilities on Tella or on me again.”

The prince’s mouth tightened and his eyes might have flashed back to Tella.

“Fine. You have a deal. I won’t, unless one of you asks me to.” Jacks took a dagger from his boot and sliced his hand, creating a spill of blood to seal the promise.

Tella started gasping, panting for air. “You’re a demon!” She might have cursed Jacks more thoroughly, but all she wanted to do was breathe. She’d trusted him. She’d thought that he actually cared about her, and he’d tried to kill her.

Legend’s arms went around her, holding her up as she continued to fight for oxygen. “You scared me,” he murmured.

“What will this cost you?” she asked against his chest.

Instead of answering, Legend carefully walked her to the edge of the fountain, seeming to have mostly recovered from his earlier use of magic, as he helped her sit on the rim. “Stay. I’ll be right back.”

He turned back to the Prince of Hearts. “We’re not doing this here.” Legend stalked into the ruins of the decrepit mansion without waiting for Jacks to follow.

As soon as Jacks and Legend were out of sight, Tella shoved up from the fountain with shaky arms and shuffled in the direction they’d gone. Jacks was only supposed to take a fraction of Legend’s power. But she didn’t trust him, and she’d seen the power exchange between Legend and the witch—she had watched as Legend drained Esmeralda of all her magic. She couldn’t let that happen to Legend.

Jacks might have left her too weak to do much, and even at her best, she wouldn’t be able to tear two powerful immortals apart. But it wouldn’t prevent her from trying if necessary.

She crept closer to the ruined mansion that Jacks and Legend had entered. The entire structure was skeletal, a corpse made of bricks and stones instead of bones. Tella pressed her hands against the dirty walls to keep herself from collapsing as she peered through a jagged hole.

She knew from her own experience with Jacks that blood exchanges could be intensely emotional. Jacks’s mouth was latched on to Legend’s wrist. Blood stained the corners of his lips, while his face twisted into something sadistic and hungry as he drank.

Unlike Jacks, Legend appeared to feel nothing. He looked like a study in apathy—until suddenly Legend ripped his wrist away from Jacks’s mouth with enough force to knock the Fate several steps back. “Tella isn’t yours.” The words were razor-sharp.

Jacks responded with a bloody smile. “She will be.”

Tella gripped the wall to stay standing as she again remembered the way he’d flashed his dimples and said, I suppose I’ll just have to try harder.

Was this his way of trying?

She continued to watch as Jacks wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “She forgave me before. She’ll forgive me again. And now that this transaction has taken your ability to visit her dreams, it shouldn’t be difficult to win her.”

Tella shoved away from the wall, ready to march inside and tell Jacks just how difficult and unforgiving she could be. But her legs had other ideas. They crumpled beneath her and brought her crashing to the hard ground. “Bastard!”

“I hope you’re not talking about me.”

She looked up.

Legend towered above her. But his coloring was off again—he looked pale instead of glowing bronze—and his dark hair had fallen out of place. “I asked you to stay by the fountain.”

No. He’d told her to stay. But she didn’t want to fight with him about it, not after what she’d just seen him do. “I’m sorry about the dreams.”

“I don’t care about the dreams.” His voice turned rough in a flash. “I care that you almost died.”

“I don’t think he really would have killed me.”

“Yes, he would have, Tella. He’s a Fate; you’re a human and the object of his obsession. There’s only one way your story with him ends—unless you let me make you an immortal.”

She didn’t even see him move, but suddenly Legend was on his knees in front of her. His eyes met hers in a way that was both fierce and tender all at once, while his warm hands cupped her cheeks.

“What—what are you doing?” she stammered.

“I gave up too easily.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “You asked me to let you go, but I can’t.”

“I already told you. It was just the idea—”

“You lied.” Another quick move and his hands left her face so that one of his arms could slide under her legs while another went behind her back.

“Legend—” Tella protested. “I don’t need you to carry me.”

He continued picking her up, and cradled her to his chest, so close she could feel his steady heartbeat. “He tried to kill you. I need to carry you.”

All the air left her lungs as he marched across the ruins and started down the steps. “I’m still not letting you make me an immortal.”

“We’ll see.” His voice had softened, and she might have called it sweet, but there was nothing sweet about the way he smiled. It was a smile that promised she’d enjoy this new game, even as she lost it.