But maybe it would be better not to win the game.
Winning the game will come at a cost you will later regret. Nigel had warned Tella of this, though even if he hadn’t, she knew regrets were in her future. If she chose to betray Legend to Jacks so that Jacks could take Legend’s power, Jacks would free the Fates and most likely destroy Legend in the process. But, if Tella didn’t betray Legend, if she gave him the cards with the Fates, he would destroy them. In doing so, Legend would destroy her mother as well, since all the cards were connected.
Tella’s gaze traveled out the window. From so high up the people below were little more than specks of color, lit by the churning stars, the brilliant lanterns, and all the feverish excitement for the last night of Caraval and Elantine’s Eve.
In another story Tella might have gone down there and joined them. She might have drunk spiced wine and danced with strangers. Maybe she’d have even kissed someone beneath the stars. It should have been what she wanted. She told herself to want it. To walk away from the separate game she’d been thrust into and the woman who’d walked away from her. To stop pretending her mother cared. But Elantine’s words about true endings and almost-endings continued to torment Tella.
She wanted to turn her back on her mother, but it felt more like giving up than letting go, settling for less when she had a chance at so much more. Tella didn’t want to let her mother hurt her again. But what if Elantine was right and her mother really had loved her?
Tella’s mother had placed the cards in the stars’ vaults so that no one could get to them. Maybe her mother had never planned on touching them again either. What if she’d offered Tella to the stars, but she’d never intended to give Tella away? Maybe locking the cards in a vault that could only be opened by a cursed key had been Paloma’s way to keep them safe. But then somehow her mother had ended up trapped in a card.
Tella didn’t know when she left the tower—but suddenly she was running down the stairs, rushing toward the courtyard where Caraval was taking place, thinking only of her mother.
38
The air was so thick with magic it fell like confectioner’s sugar on Tella’s tongue, a sweet welcome to a darkly enchanted world. Fates and symbols of Fates were everywhere.
The palatial courtyard had been transformed into a market that looked as if it were something plucked from a myth. There were tents bearing names like:
Her Majesty’s Magical Gowns
Priestess, Priestess’s Charm Emporium
Assassin’s Knives and Killer Neckwear
Aracle’s Magical Glasses
Then there were the signs, giant posters in honor of even more Fates:
Give Mistress Luck a kiss and she’ll give you your heart’s greatest wish.
For a short-lived but good time, find Jester Mad!
If you see the Pregnant Maid, your future is about to change.…
Tella refused to be distracted—she needed to get to the Temple of the Stars, though it was a little harder to move through the courtyard when people started approaching her. A shadowy figure costumed as the Poisoner invited her to taste his poison. A number of Fallen Stars offered her a lick of stardust.
Tella didn’t even bother to respond; she hurried through the crush as quickly as possible. The only moment she stumbled was when she thought she saw Scarlett, dressed as the Unwed Bride in a veil of tears that dripped over her face like weeping diamonds. But if Scarlett knew what Tella was about to do, she would certainly try to stop her.
Tella didn’t want to be stopped. This was her one chance to save her mother, and if she didn’t take it she’d regret it as long as she lived.
During the carriage ride to the Temple District she still felt pangs of guilt at the idea of giving Legend over to Jacks. But Tella imagined it was only because of her infatuation with Dante. Betraying Legend felt like betraying Dante. But maybe they weren’t one and the same. And if Dante was really Legend, then he was the one who’d been betraying Tella all this time.
She reached the Temple of the Stars after the clang of ten bells.
She didn’t need to knock when she arrived at the sanctuary’s forbidding doors. They opened soundlessly, as if the temple were giving her an inaudible hello.
Theron stood on the other side, a tower of a man, made more imposing by the brutal eight-pointed star burned onto his merciless face. He was dressed in the same manner as when she’d met him the night before—thick leathers and a royal-blue cape.
To his credit, Theron didn’t mention Tella’s rapid departure the night before. Whatever he made of her disappearance and reappearance remained guarded by his stoic demeanor.
The slap of Tella’s slippers against the polished floor made the only sound as she followed him inside the shadowed entry. The fiery fountain in the center had not yet been lit, allowing a thick layer of cold to settle.
Tella had lost her cape somewhere in the royal courtyard, leaving her back and arms exposed, so she should have been freezing. Yet her neck dripped sweat as she said, “I’m here to open my mother’s vault.”
Theron’s eyes dropped to Tella’s ring. “You are fortunate to have such a good friend.”
A prickle of fresh unease joined the sweat dripping down her neck as she thought of Dante. “What did he give you to break the curse on the ring?”
“There’s only one way to break the curse. But there is always one way around every curse. In this case, we made an exchange that has temporarily lifted it from your ring. Now do you wish to keep asking questions, or would you like to see your vault?”
“First, tell me what Dante gave you in this exchange.”
“He made us a promise. I cannot tell you what it is, but if you care about him, you’ll want to make sure he keeps his word.”
“What happens if he doesn’t?”
Theron traced the star-shaped brand on his face. “If your Dante fails us, he will die.”
Tella’s mouth went dry.
Without another word, Theron guided Tella to the door at the back of the foyer, the one watched by the agonized stone statues. He used his ring to unlock the gate.
Warm air smelling of buried mysteries and old magic filled the octagonal annex on the other side. Unlike the entry, this area was not all glowing gold and pearly whites. It was wooden and aged, and filled with the same sort of hushed gravity as the first floor of Elantine’s golden tower. Primeval light ghosted across the grainy floor, while magic, far older than Legend’s or Jacks’s, brushed against the backs of Tella’s hands, tasting her with unseen tongues.
Theron had told the truth when he’d said this temple was not a tourist attraction.
The vaults were buried deep beneath. From the annex, Theron took Tella through a door that led to a winding case of earthy stairs. She didn’t count the number of steps, but it was enough to make her legs sweat beneath her sparkling gown. When they finally reached the bottom, the passages were narrow and dim, lit by a row of candles that looked as if they grew out of the ground. Theron and Tella had to cautiously skirt around them.
Halfway down a corridor so dim Tella could only make out Theron’s outline, he finally stopped in front of a stone door without a handle. “This will open only for you. To gain entrance, all you must do is press your ring to the door. But be warned, the bargain your Dante made with us allows you to open this vault only once. If you choose to remove or leave an object inside here, be very certain about your choice. Once you close this door, the only way you may open it again is by paying your mother’s debt.”
“If I never open it,” Tella asked, “will that undo the bargain that was made on my behalf?”