Her imagination stretched as she craned her neck to look up.
She’d heard there were sky carriages that flew above the hilly city like birds, but it was different to view them in person. They moved through the darkening lavender sky with the grace of painted clouds, bobbing up and down in pops of orchid, topaz, magenta, lilac, corn silk, mint, and other shades Tella had yet to see. They didn’t actually fly so much as dangle from thick cords that crisscrossed Valenda’s various districts.
“Come on,” Scarlett urged, clutching Julian’s hand as they started down the crowded dock. “A special group of sky coaches will take us directly to the palace. We don’t want to miss them.”
Their ship had arrived late, so everyone was moving at a heightened pace. There were lots of Careful theres and Watch yourselfs. Tella’s short legs hurried to keep up as she clutched the tiny trunk in her hands, which held the Aracle along with most of her fortune.
“Pardon me.” A wisp of a boy dressed like a courier appeared at the end of the pier. “Are you Miss Donatella Dragna?”
“Yes,” Tella answered.
The courier beckoned her toward a group of barrels at the edge of another dock.
Tella wasn’t about to follow. She never fully believed her nana’s stories about how dangerous the streets of Valenda could be for a girl. But she did know how easily a person could disappear on a dock. All it would take was for someone to drag her onto a ship and shove her belowdecks while heads were turned the other way.
“I need to catch up to my sister,” Tella said.
“Please, miss, don’t run off. I won’t get paid if you leave.” The young courier showed her an envelope sealed with a circle of golden wax that formed an intricate combination of daggers and shattered swords. Tella recognized it instantly. Her friend.
How did he already know she was in Valenda?
As if answering her question, the luckless coin in Tella’s pocket pulsed like a heartbeat. He must have been using it to track her, further proof he was skilled at finding people.
Tella called toward Scarlett and Julian, telling them that she’d catch up later, and slipped onto the other dock with the courier.
Once hidden behind a cluster of heavy barrels, the messenger quickly passed Tella the communiqué and then darted away before Tella could break the seal.
Inside the envelope were two squares. First was a simple sheet covered in familiar writing.
* * *
Welcome to Valenda, Donatella—
My apologies for failing to greet you in person, but don’t worry, I won’t remain a stranger. I’m sure you’re as eager to find your mother as I am to learn Legend’s name.
Knowing you, I imagine you’ll be participating in Caraval, but just in case, I’ve included an invitation to the first night’s festivities.
Bring the coin I gave you to the ball before midnight. Keep it in your palm, and I’ll be sure to find you. Don’t be late—I will not linger.
Until then,
—A friend
* * *
Tella pulled out the other card, revealing a pearlescent page covered in ornate royal-blue ink.
Legend has chosen you to play a game
that may change your destiny.
In honor of Empress Elantine’s 75th birthday,
Caraval will visit the streets of Valenda
for six magical nights.
Your journey will begin at the Fated Ball
inside Idyllwild Castle.
The game officially begins at midnight,
on the 30th day of the Growing Season,
and ends at dawn on Elantine’s Day.
The thirtieth was the following day.
Far too soon for Tella to meet her friend.
Nigel had said the only way for her to uncover Legend’s name was to win Caraval. She needed another week to play—and win—the game. Surely her friend would give her one more week.
But what if he said no and refused to reunite her with her mother?
An unruly wave rocked the dock, but even after it stabilized Tella remained unsteady, as if fate had blinked and the future of her world had reshaped.
Quickly, she set the small trunk in her hands down on the dock. Behind the barrels, she was concealed from view. No one saw her open the trunk, though even if an entire boatload of people had been watching, it might not have stopped her. Tella needed to check the Aracle.
Her fingers usually tingled upon contact, but when she touched the paper rectangle they went numb; everything went numb as Tella saw a new image. Her mother was no longer trapped behind prison bars—she was blue-lipped, pale, and dead.
Tella gripped the card so tight it should have crumpled in her hand. But the magical little thing seemed to be indestructible. She sagged against the damp barrels.
Something new must have happened to alter her mother’s future. Tella had slept the past four days. The shift shouldn’t have been a result of her actions, unless it had something to do with the conversation she’d had with Nigel.
Julian had warned Tella that fortune-tellers like Nigel toyed with the future. Maybe he had sensed something in Tella’s destiny that put Legend at risk. Or perhaps Legend wanted to toy with Tella for trying to uncover his most closely guarded secret, and whatever Legend now planned had shifted her mother’s fate.
The thought should have frightened her. Legend was not a good person to have as an enemy. But for some twisted reason the idea only made Tella want to play his game more. Now, she just needed to convince her friend to give her another week so she could win Caraval, uncover Legend’s name, and save her mother’s life.
*
By the time Tella reached the carriage house, night had covered the city with its cloak. Outside the evening was chilled, but inside the carriage house the air was balmy, hazy with amber lantern light.
Tella walked past stall after stall of colorful coaches, all attached to thick cords that led to every part of the city. The line dedicated to the palace was at the very end. But Scarlett was nowhere in sight. She’d told her sister that she’d catch up later, yet Tella was still surprised Scarlett hadn’t waited for her.
The carriage hanging before Tella bobbed as a burly coachman opened an ivory door and directed her into a snug compartment covered in buttery cushions laced with thick royal-blue trim that matched the curtains lining the oval windows.
The only other passenger was a golden-haired young man Tella didn’t recognize.
Legend’s performers had taken two ships to Valenda, and Tella imagined there were performers working for Legend whom she’d never met. But she suspected this young man was not one of them. He was only a few years older than her, yet he looked as if he’d spent centuries practicing disinterest. Even his rumpled velvet tailcoat appeared bored as he lounged against the plush leather seats.
Intentionally looking away from Tella, he bit into an intensely white apple. “You can’t ride in here.”
“Pardon me?”
“You heard me clearly. You need to get out.” His drawl was as lazy as his cavalier posture, making Tella think that either he was completely careless, or this young man was so used to people hanging on his words, he didn’t even try to sound commanding.
Spoiled nobleman.
Tella had never met an aristocrat she liked. They’d often come to her father for illegal favors, offering him money, but never respect; they all seemed to think their trickle of royal blood made them superior to everyone else.
“If you don’t wish to ride with me, you can get out,” she said.
The young noble responded with a mild tilt of his golden head, followed by a slow curl of narrow lips as if he’d bitten into a mealy part of his apple.