“These Fates … stayed hidden for years … or the spell imprisoning the Fates is weakening.”
The other voice muttered a curse.
Tella felt it then, something that wasn’t pain, wet against her lips. Thicker than water and slightly metallic. Blood.
“Drink.”
Something warm pressed more firmly against Tella’s mouth, until she could feel the damp blood dripping onto her tongue. Her first instinct was to spit it out. But it was still impossible to move, and she enjoyed the way it tasted, like power and strength and something fierce enough to make her heart race. With extreme effort she managed to lick and drink down more.
“Good girl.” It was one of the voices from before, but now that some of her pain had dulled Tella could add a name. Julian.
“That should be enough.” The second voice was lower and more commanding. Dante.
Tella’s heart beat even faster.
An instant later there was no more blood. The pain was still present but it was dulled to an aching.
“Find her sister.” Dante again. “Get her into Tella’s room at the palace. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”
A pause followed, extended in a way that made Tella fear her hearing had failed her until Julian’s voice broke the quiet. “You really care about her?”
Another pause.
“I care about finding those cards, and she’s our best hope for it, brother.”
27
It should have felt like the end of existence when Tella came back to consciousness once more. Her everything should have hurt in every possible way. She should have awoken to a world of pain, to a screaming wrist, a swollen face, and battered feet. Instead her body felt whole and rested, and her heart was beating stronger than it had the night before. Wherever she was, this new universe was delightfully cozy and sweet, as if someone had tucked her into the center of a holiday.
Something crackled, a fire that smelled faintly of cinnamon and cloves. There were curling streams of laughter too, uneven and gasping, her sister’s laugh when she thought her companion genuinely funny.
If Scarlett was giggling, it couldn’t be all bad.
Tella cautiously cracked her eyelids.
And slammed them shut immediately. Or she tried to shut her eyes, but they refused to close, as if they were unable to look away from the vivid sight of her sister, clad in seductive shades of red, and Jacks, glowing faintly as he leaned lazily across one of the tufted lounges in Tella’s tower suite. Her sister and her fake fiancé both laughed and chatted and gazed as if they could not have been more taken with each other.
Tella sat up. It seemed she was atop but not inside her bed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know who had changed her out of her decimated gown, or how. But somehow she was in a brand-new dress—the same silver sea salt and blue as Jacks’s eyes, with sleeves held together by a simple tie, a flowing skirt, and a bodice strung with dark thistle ribbons that made her look like a present someone had halfway unwrapped.
Dante didn’t appear to be anywhere and neither did Julian. Tella’s gaze took in every corner of the room. The dull peach light streaming through the window gave the impression of a sluggish morning, but there were no hints that Julian or Dante had been there. Just thinking about Dante brought a rush of dizziness that made her want to close her eyes again. Her skin warmed as she recalled the protective way he’d cradled her in his arms. But then it burned when she thought of the last words he’d said to Julian. She wanted to believe everything she’d overhead was only a dream. But then who had healed her? And how had she ended up here?
In front of the dying fire, Jacks and Scarlett were still chatting; neither of them noticed Tella was no longer asleep. Jacks was tossing around a pale blue apple and saying something too low for Tella to hear, but it made her sister’s cheeks turn pink.
Tella coughed. Loudly.
“Oh, Tella!” Scarlett jumped up from her seat, and Tella swore her sister’s face reddened further. “I’m so glad you’re awake. Jacks and I have been so worried.”
Tella’s head snapped toward the villain in question. “I didn’t even think you were allowed in here.”
“I love how you forget I’m the heir to the throne,” Jacks said smoothly. “This palace is practically mine. But even if it wasn’t, no one could keep me from your side, even after such a minor incident.”
His eyes hooked on to Tella’s as he came to her side of the bed, silently commanding her to go along with whatever he said next. “I know you only fell a few feet, after accidentally leaving the carriage too early and hitting your head. But I still worry what would have happened if I hadn’t been there to catch you and carry you back here, my love.” He spoke it all affectionately, as if he found everything about her entirely endearing.
Tella swore Scarlett’s eyes turned into little hearts.
Tella began to wonder if perhaps this was the actual dream, although it was feeling more akin to a nightmare. Scarlett appeared far too taken with Jacks, who wasn’t even supposed to be there. Dante and Julian had saved her—where were they?
Jacks picked up Tella’s wrist and gently squeezed. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said he looked concerned. “Your pulse feels strong. But you probably need some food.” He turned back to Scarlett. “Would you be a treasure and fetch your sister a fresh tray of fruit and tea and biscuits? It will take too long to ring for a servant and I don’t think we should risk letting her pass out again.”
“Of course,” Scarlett said. A few seconds later she was gone, leaving Tella and Jacks alone.
For a moment there was only the crackle of the fire and Jacks’s worried gaze, as silver as falling stars; he seemed to be better at mimicking real emotions than when she’d seen him three nights ago.
“What are you doing here?” Tella asked.
Jacks’s gaze instantly turned dispassionate.
“I have spies all over the palace,” he said. His tone was bored, as if it disappointed him she’d not asked a more original question. “I know everything that happens in here. The moment that actor carried you in through the tunnels I was alerted, and it’s a good thing. Your sister rushed in here minutes after I arrived and I had to make up that story about you falling out of a carriage, because she was under the impression you almost died.”
“I did almost die! Why didn’t you tell me other Fates were free?”
“Who did you encounter?” he asked coolly.
“The Undead Queen and Her Handmaidens.”
Jacks took a careless bite of his blue apple, but Tella swore his features sharpened while he chewed, as if he weren’t as indifferent as he seemed. “You’re lucky they were weak.”
“They didn’t seem weak to me. Those Handmaidens nearly killed me. How many other Fates are free?”
Jacks gave a bitter laugh. “Just because a few of us are out of those cards doesn’t mean we’re free. When that witch cursed us, she took half our powers. I’m a shadow of what I once was. You think my only power was having a deadly kiss? I was called the Prince of Hearts because I could control more than just the beat of someone’s heart. With one touch I could give or take away feelings and emotions. If I were at my full powers, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. You’d be so uncontrollably in love with me, you’d do whatever I asked without question.”
Tella didn’t even bother to hold back her laugh. “No power on earth could make me fall in love with you.”
“We’ll see. Unless you don’t live past the week.” Jacks tossed his apple into the fire. It sparked celestial blue, briefly covering the room in a shimmer incongruent with their deadly conversation. It reminded Tella of Legend’s stars from the night before.
Or were they Dante’s stars?