When she’d first seen him, she hadn’t noticed the mark her father had made was still there, a thin, jagged scar that ran from his jaw to the corner of his eye. She’d thought that since he could come back to life, the wound would have somehow vanished as well, and it would be as if that awful night had never happened.
Julian caught her staring and answered her unasked question. “I might not be able to die during the game, but all the injuries I receive throughout Caraval leave scars.”
“I didn’t know,” Scarlett murmured.
She’d been nervous about seeing Julian, because she’d feared the game wasn’t as real for him as it had been for her. But perhaps Tella had been right when she’d said, There’s always a bit of real mixed in with everything.
“I’m so sorry my father did that to you.”
“I knew the risks I was taking,” answered Julian. “Don’t be sorry, not unless it’s the reason you’re trying so hard to walk away from me.”
Scarlett’s eyes sought his scar again. Julian had always been handsome to her, but this very real scar down his cheek made him devastating. It reminded her of his bravery and his selflessness, and how he’d made her feel more than anyone else she’d ever met. Maybe he wasn’t exactly the same boy she had thought he was during the game, but he no longer seemed like a stranger. And he’d done it all to help his brother. How could she, of all people, hold something like that against him?
“If anything, I think this scar is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Julian’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’ll forgive me?”
Scarlett hesitated. This was her chance to walk away. Tella had said that after tonight if she wanted, they could forget all about Caraval. Scarlett and Tella could start new lives for themselves on another island, or even one of the continents. Scarlett used to fear she couldn’t take care of herself, but now that challenge excited her. She and Tella could do anything they wanted.
But as Scarlett looked at Julian, she couldn’t deny she still wanted him as well. She remembered all of the reasons she’d first fallen for him. It wasn’t only his handsome face, or the way his smile made her stomach flutter. It was the way he’d pushed her not to give up, and the sacrifices he’d made. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she’d have liked, but she was fairly certain she was still in love with him. She knew she could walk away, but she’d spent enough of her life fearing the risks that accompanied the things she wanted most.
In answer to his question, Scarlett lifted her hand, slowly bringing her fingers to his cheek. Her skin tingled where it touched his, sending shivers all the way down her arm as she traced the thin line from the edge of his parted lips to the corner of his eyelid. “I forgive you,” she whispered.
Julian briefly closed his eyes, brushing the ends of her fingers with his black lashes. “This time, I really promise I won’t lie to you again.”
“But, don’t you have rules about involvement with people who aren’t a part of Caraval?” Scarlett asked.
“I’m not really too concerned with rules.” Julian drew a cool finger along her collarbone as he leaned in closer, sliding his free hand around her neck.
Scarlett’s heart raced faster at the promise of his lips, the feeling of his hands, and the memory of a kiss, so flawless and so reckless.
Scarlett wasn’t sure who kissed who first. Their lips were almost touching, then Julian’s soft mouth was crushing hers. It tasted like the moment before night gives birth to morning; it was the end of one thing and the beginning of something else all wrapped up together.
Julian kissed her as if he’d never touched her lips before, sealing the promise he’d just made as he pulled her against his chest, wrapping long fingers in the ribbons of her gown.
Scarlett reached up and threaded her hands through his satiny hair. In some ways he still felt just as mysterious and unknowable as the first time she met him, but in that moment, none of her questions mattered. She felt as if her story could have ended there, in a tangle of lips and hands, and ribbons of color.
EPILOGUE
As the stars leaned a little closer to earth, watching Scarlett and Julian, in the hopes of witnessing a kiss as magical as Caraval, Donatella began to dance beneath of canopy of spying trees, wishing she had someone of her own to kiss.
She twirled from partner to partner, her slippers barely touching the ground, as if the champagne she’d sipped earlier contained bits of stars that kept her feet floating just above the grass. Tella imagined that in the morning she’d most likely regret having drunk so much, but she enjoyed this sensation of floating—and after everything she’d been through, she needed a night of abandon and forgetting.
Tella continued eating cakes of liquor and draining crystal goblets full of spiked nectar until her head spun along with the rest of her body. She practically fell into the arms of her newest partner. He pulled her closer than the others had. His large hands snaked determinedly around her, bringing with them a new surge of pleasure. Tella liked the confident way he touched her. As he tugged her toward the edge of the party and farther from the crowd, she imagined feeling his hands on places besides her waist. Maybe he could help her take her mind off all of the things she’d been too afraid to share with her sister.
Tilting her head back, Tella smiled up. But the night had grown dark, and her vision was blurry. He didn’t look like any of the Caraval performers she knew. When her partner leaned closer, all Tella could see was a shadowy smirk as his hands trailed down. She sucked in a breath when his fingers dug into the folds of her dress, touching her hip bones as he …
disappeared.
It happened so rapidly, Tella stumbled back.
One moment the young man had his arms around her, drawing her close as if he might kiss her. Then he was walking away. He moved so fast, it made Tella wish she’d not drunk so much. Before she made it more than two steps, he vanished into the crowd, leaving her cold and alone and—with something rather heavy in her pocket.
A chill swept over Tella’s naked shoulders. Her head might have been spinning, but she knew the item weighing down her skirts had not been there before. For a moment she tried to entertain the thought of it being some kind of key—perhaps her stranger was hoping she might follow him back to his room for that kiss they never shared. But if that’s what he wanted, Tella didn’t imagine he would have run off so quickly.
“I think I need another glass of champagne.” Tella mumbled the words to no one in particular as she edged away from the crowd. Aside from being wrapped in paper, she could not tell what the object in her pocket was, though she had a prickly feeling it was meant for her eyes alone.
Music from the party faded as she edged toward a secluded tree, lit by hanging candles that flickered white-blue light as she reached into her pocket.
The object she pulled out fit inside the palm of her hand. Someone had wrapped a note around a thick coin. But it didn’t look like any currency Tella had ever seen. Tella shoved the coin back in her pocket after unwrapping the note.
The handwriting on it was crisp and precise.
* * *
Dearest Donatella,
Congratulations on escaping your father and surviving Caraval. I am pleased our plan worked, although I had no doubts you would survive the game.
I’m sure your mother will be quite proud, and I believe you should be able to see her soon. But first you must keep up your end of our bargain. I hope you haven’t forgotten what you owe me in exchange for all that I’ve shared with you.
I plan on collecting my payment very soon.
Truly yours,
A friend
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, God, for being faithful when I was faithless, for your love, and for every miracle that made this book possible.