Scarlett’s face brightened. “If you want, I’ll show them to you.”
Tella was certainly curious. But from the closest window she could see the colors outside had changed. All the browns had shifted into promising shades of bronze. A final good-bye before the sun went down. Soon night would make her appearance; a new one of Legend’s constellations would materialize in the sky. Caraval would start once more, and Tella didn’t want to be late.
According to what Jacks had said the night before, and to what Tella suspected as well, the first clue she’d received, which spoke of a region that provided promises of both faith and magic, made her think the second clue would be found in the Temple District. Tella hadn’t seen that part of the city yet, but she knew it was larger than the Spice Quarter and the Satine District put together. It could take all night to search.
“Maybe you can show me later,” Tella said. “It’s almost sunset, I should be leaving.”
Tella hadn’t even said the word Caraval, but just like that, Scarlett’s grin faded.
Tella reached for Scarlett’s hand. It was hard enough to leave her when Tella knew her sister was hurting; the last thing she wanted was for Scarlett to worry about Tella on top of it. “I know you don’t trust my judgment right now. But, I know which parts are just a game—”
Scarlett cut in with a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust Legend, or anyone who works for him, and I think you’d be wise to do the same. At least remember the stories Nana Anna told us—Legend likes to be the villain.”
Tella grinned. “How could I forget? That was always my favorite part.”
But it couldn’t be true for this game. If Legend was really the villain, then there was only one possible person he could be—Jacks.
Tella didn’t even want to consider it, though she could picture Jacks in a top hat and tailcoat, holding out a red rose while his lips curved into a wicked smile. And maybe if Tella’s fingertips hadn’t started bleeding in front of Dante that morning, she might have been tempted to think Jacks was really Legend, and all of this was just a cruel trick.
But Tella knew Jacks was the real Prince of Hearts. She knew it as deeply as she’d known that her sister would be able to wish her back to life if she died. Tella had felt Jacks’s power since the moment they’d kissed. It was different from the magic of Caraval. Legend’s power glittered like dreams come to life, while Jacks’s magic was nightmarish. Even now she felt it, incrementally slowing her heartbeat.
Beat … beat.
Nothing.
Beat … beat.
Nothing.
Beat … beat …
Nothing.
A ticking clock inside her chest.
Tella didn’t want to be cursed, and face the possibility of death. But she wanted to save her mother, she wanted to see her again in the flesh, to find out who she really was and why she’d left. And if Jacks was Legend or one of his actors, that would never happen.
Jacks could not be Legend. But if he was, then Legend was a greater villain than Tella had ever imagined.
NIGHT TWO
OF CARAVAL
18
A crimson constellation of stars glittered above the Temple District.
From Tella’s sky carriage it had looked like an enchanted cluster of roses in full bloom. Now that she was in the district, standing beneath the stars, the entire image was harder to take in. Instead of seeing a constellation of roses, the ruby lights looked like drops of spilled star-blood, shimmering unnatural light on the world below.
Even without the eerie rose-gold glow from above, the Temple District would have been an odd place. Wailing cries of worshippers, whispered prayers of sinners, ancient chants, and a number of strangely dressed people surrounded Tella as she trod a mosaic of timeworn streets lit by torches as tall as people.
Tella didn’t know if this part of the city was always so popular or if the crowds were only because of everyone participating in Caraval and searching for the second clue.
She reached into her velvet pocket and reread the first clue under the burning red torchlight:
* * *
THE OTHER CLUES YOU’LL NEED ARE HIDDEN
THROUGHOUT THE CITY;
TO POSSESS THE SECOND ONE,
VENTURE SOMEWHERE PRETTY.
THIS REGION OF VALENDA WAS ONCE SO TRAGIC,
BUT NOW IT PROMISES FAITH AND MAGIC.
* * *
The description definitely fit the Temple District, where all manner of interesting religions and beliefs were practiced, but it could have applied to almost any of the worship houses.
Tella passed towering tabernacles, antique missions, and fresh young bathhouses where visitors could wash themselves in holy spirits—or at least those were the claims.
On Trisda, religion was unornamented and simple. People prayed to specific saints for what they wanted and asked priests for forgiveness by writing their sins on paper that the holy women and men would burn. But here, Tella wasn’t sure if people were actually worshipping or performing.
She’d heard people could practice whatever faith they wanted as long as they remained within the district borders. But only a few of the religions looked as if they were true faiths in higher powers. Many of the spiritual practices Tella observed looked more like shows meant to thrill and tantalize tourists into willingly emptying their pockets.
Before arriving she’d been told there was even a Church of Legend, which seemed like the most obvious place to search for the next clue. Unfortunately, the Church of Legend was hidden from plain view. Finding it was supposed to be like a game. Tella might not have minded if she’d been at her full strength, but her legs were shakier than they should have been, and her breath was a little shallow.
As she searched street after street, Tella saw churches dedicated to each element. The fire worshippers were her favorite; they danced in front of their temple with sticks made of flames. Next door was a church formed of waterfalls, which flowed over statues of mermen and mermaids that people threw shells before as offerings. From there Tella passed a row of tabernacles dedicated to the various Fates. These crumbling structures looked older than the rest. Some were merely ruins, remnants of the days when the Fates still ruled. Few people currently worshipped the Fates, though there was a large group gathered in front of Mistress Luck’s Shrine, all of them dressed in elaborate green-feathered caps and voluminous capes.
But no matter how hard Tella searched, she saw no symbols of Caraval. No roses—other than those in the sky. No black hearts. No top hats. Although there were people in costume—or “religious garments,” as she’d heard others call them. As Tella pushed her tired limbs to keep going, she spied horned helmets for those who honored ancient warrior gods, and necklaces made of bones for those who worshipped Death. She didn’t know if she needed different attire for her destination, but it seemed whatever she didn’t own could be bought from one of the carts on the street.
“Would you like a ghost hood?” someone called. “Keeps away the demons. Only three coppers.”
“Or if you’d prefer to meet the demons, we have beads of depravity!” called his partner. “Only one copper.”
“What makes you think I’m interested in demons?” Tella teased.
The vendor flashed a grin of missing teeth. “You’re here. People claim they search these streets looking for saviors, but that’s rarely what they find.”
“Then I suppose it’s good the man I’m looking for has never claimed to be a savior.” Tella blew the vendor a kiss and delved farther into the crush of eager tourists, greedy traders, and enthusiastic Valendans participating in Caraval.
The people on the streets were thicker than maggots on death, except for on the stretch of ivory road in front of the Temple of the Stars.