She’d won the game. She still had her wish and Legend was there to grant it.
For a moment she felt hope, lighter than the weight of her grief. Indescribable and iridescent—and utterly impossible to hold on to.
Because it wasn’t only Julian she needed to save.
Scarlett’s chest ached again. Tella and Julian were both gone. She felt as if it shouldn’t even have been a choice. But it was a choice, which made her feel like less of a sister. Or maybe Julian mattered even more than she realized, because although she knew she was going to choose Tella, she couldn’t say it right away, as if maybe there was a way to save them both that she hadn’t figured out yet.
Her sister, or the boy Scarlett had almost certainly fallen in love with.
Julian had died because of her. He’d risked everything for her by facing her father and then by giving her that pocket watch just before Scarlet would meet Legend. Scarlett thought of how strained his voice sounded as he struggled to tell her the truth. It wasn’t his job to protect her, but he’d done what he could. He also made her feel things she never knew she could desire, and for that she would always love him.
But Tella was not only her sister, she was Scarlett’s best friend, the one person in the world she should have loved more than anything or anyone else, the person she was responsible to take care of.
Scarlett turned to Legend, her decision made. “I won. You owe me a wish.”
Legend snorted, as if amused. “I’m afraid my answer to that is no.”
“What do you mean, no?”
Legend responded dryly, “From your tone, I think you know exactly what I mean.”
“But I won the game,” Scarlett argued. “I solved your confusing clues. I found my sister. You owe me a wish.”
“You really expect me to grant you a wish after all of this?” Around Legend the candles flickered, as if they were all laughing along with him.
Scarlett fisted her hands, telling herself she would not cry again, even as tears burned the backs of her eyes. Giving her only one wish, and making her choose between the two people she loved, was cruelty enough, but no wish at all was unspeakable. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you care that two innocent people are dead? You’re absolutely heartless.”
“If I’m so vile, then why are you still here?” Legend said. But when he slid his eyes to her, they were no longer the sparkling gems she’d seen at their first meeting. If it were anyone else, she would have sworn he almost looked sad.
It must have been her grief. Scarlett was seeing things, because Legend now seemed dimmer as well. Duller than he had been in the tunnels or when he’d first arrived at the balcony. As if a glamour had been cast over him, and it was somehow disappearing, making him less of the Legend he had been before. Where his pale skin had glittered in the tunnels, it now appeared dusty, blurry almost, as if she were looking at a rendering of him that had grown dull over time.
For years Scarlett had believed no one could be worse than her father, and no one could be more magical than Legend, but despite his tricks with the fire, the master of Caraval didn’t look so magical now. Maybe he said he wouldn’t grant her wish because he couldn’t grant her wish.
But Scarlett had seen enough wonder to believe that wishes had to be real. She tried to remember every story she’d ever been told about magic. Jovan had said different things fueled it, like time. Her grandmother had said it was desire. When Julian had given her a day of her life, he’d used his own blood.
Blood. That was it.
In the world of Caraval, blood possessed some sort of magic. If a drop could give a person a day of life, maybe Scarlett could bring Julian and Tella both back to life if she gave them enough of her blood.
She turned to Jo. “How do I get down to the street?” Scarlett wasn’t sure if the girl would give her an answer, but Jo quickly told her how to find exactly what Scarlett sought.
Outside, it was growing darker by the second, as the lamps were burning low, signaling the final hour of the night.
A crowd had gathered around Tella. Precious Tella, who already wasn’t Scarlett’s Tella anymore. Without her smile and her laugh and her secrets and her teases and all the things that made her Scarlett’s beloved sister.
Ignoring the onlookers, Scarlett plunged to her knees, sinking into the puddle of blood around her sister, who looked broken in every possible way. Her arms and legs were skewed at awful angles, her bright honey curls soaked in red.
Scarlett bit down hard on her finger, until blood dripped down to her palm. She pressed it to her sister’s blue, unmoving lips.
“Tella, drink!” Scarlett said. Her fingers trembled as she continued holding them to Tella’s mouth, but Tella didn’t move or breathe.
“Please, you told me there was more to life,” Scarlett whispered. “You can’t stop living now. I wish you would come back to me.”
Scarlett closed her eyes and repeated the wish like a supplication. She’d stopped believing in wishes the day her father had killed Felipe, but Caraval had restored her faith in magic once again. It didn’t matter that Legend said he wouldn’t grant her wish. It was like her nana had said: Every person gets one impossible wish, if the person wants something more than anything, and they can find a bit of magic to help them along. Scarlett loved her sister more than anything; maybe that, combined with the magic of Caraval, would be enough.
She continued to wish, as all around her the candled lamps slowly burned out until there was no more flame, like the unmoving girl in Scarlett’s arms.