Not magic. A variety of actors. It also explained why Caspar had looked dimmer and duller, like a copy of the real Legend, when they’d been up in the balcony—there really must have been some sort of glamour over him. And as Caraval had come to a close, it had begun to fade. The corners of his eyes were now red, the space beneath them puffy. In the tunnels, his fair skin had been eerily perfect, but now she could see tiny scars on his jaw, where she imagined he’d nicked himself shaving. He even had a few freckles on his nose.
“You’re not really Legend.” This time it was a statement, not a question. “That’s why you said you wouldn’t grant my wish. You’re just an actor, so you’re not capable of making wishes come true.”
It seemed the game truly wasn’t over.
Scarlett should have known better than to assume the real Legend would appear for her. How many years had she written him before ever hearing back?
“Is there really even a Legend?”
“Oh yes.” Caspar laughed, as faint as his smile, seasoned with something bitter. “Legend is very real, but most people have no idea if they have met him—including many of his performers. The master of Caraval doesn’t go around introducing himself as Legend. He’s almost always pretending to be someone else.”
Scarlett thought about the myriad people she’d seen during Caraval. She wondered if any of them had been the elusive Legend. “Have you ever met him?” she asked.
“I’m not allowed to answer that.”
In other words, he hadn’t.
“However,” he added, “it seems your sister managed to capture his attention.” Caspar nodded toward Scarlett’s hand.
Six letters, penned by two different people. Starting a season after Tella’s first correspondence.
Scarlett cursed her sister for having written such foolish words. Foolish. Reckless. Irrational. Thoughtless—
Scarlett’s anger stilled as she read the next letter.
There were no more letters after that. Scarlett reread them, and every time, her eyes burned with new tears. What had Tella been thinking?
“It seems she thought you could wish her back,” Caspar said.
Scarlett didn’t realize she’d asked the question aloud. And perhaps Caspar’s response should have made her feel better.
It didn’t.
Scarlett looked down at the letters once again. “How did my sister know all of this?”
“I can’t speak for her,” Caspar said. “But I can say Caraval is not the only place where people trade secrets for things. Your sister must have bargained away something valuable to learn so much.”
Scarlett’s hands trembled. All this time Tella had been working to save them both. And Scarlett had failed them. She’d tried to wish Tella back, but she must not have loved her enough.
On the other side of the oval window, the world had faded even more. Whatever magic held Caraval together was quickly turning to dust, taking all the buildings and the streets with it. Scarlett watched everything outside disappear as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “Foolish Tella.”
“Personally, I think clever is a more appropriate word.”
Scarlett spun around.
A girl with a devil’s smile and a cherub’s curls.
“Tella? Is that really you?”
“Oh please, I’d think you could come up with something better than that.” Tella’s curls bounced as she glided farther into the room. “And please don’t cry.”
“But I saw you die,” Scarlett sputtered.
“I know, and trust me when I say, plummeting to the ground is not a good way to go.” Tella grinned again, but her death, no matter how short-lived or how fake, still felt too real—too soon—for her to joke about.
“How could you—put me through that?” Scarlett stammered. “How could you pretend to kill yourself while I watched?”
“I think I’ll leave you two alone.” Caspar edged toward the door with a parting look to Scarlett. “Hope there’s no hard feelings about everything. See you at the party?”
“Party?” Scarlett asked.
“Ignore him,” Tella said.
“Stop telling me what to do!” Scarlett lost control then, sobbing once more, the sort of hysterical tears that made her hiccup and sneeze.
“I’m so sorry, Scar.” Tella closed in and gathered Scarlett into a hug. “I didn’t want you to go through that.”
“Then why did you do it?” Scarlett pulled away, hiccupping as she moved so one of the tufted chairs stood between her and her sister. No matter how relieved she was to see Tella alive, she couldn’t shake how it had felt to see her die. To cradle her dead body. To believe she’d never hear her voice again.
“I knew your love could wish me back to life,” said Tella.
“But I didn’t bring you back. Legend never gave me my wish.”
“A wish isn’t something someone can give,” Tella explained. “Legend could give you a little extra magic to help you along, but the wish would only work if you wanted it more than anything.”
“So you’re saying I wished you back to life?” Scarlett still couldn’t fathom it. When she first saw her sister, alive and breathing and irreverently joking, she imagined Tella’s death had somehow been an elaborate trick. But there was no humor in her sister’s expression now. “Tella, what if it had failed?”
“I knew you could do it,” Tella said firmly. “No one loves me as much as you do. You would have leaped from the balcony if Caspar had convinced you it’d protect me.”