Caraval
: Part 8 – Chapter 39

Part 8 – THE DAY AFTER CARAVAL Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

When Scarlett arrived at Tella’s balcony room she imagined it was a ploy, another way to torment her. The possessions in the suite were all newly acquired. Dresses. Furs. Gloves. None of it truly felt like Tella. The only thing that felt like her sister was Scarlett’s memory of the periwinkle gown Tella had died in. The gown that had failed to bring her a happy ending.

Whatever Jo thought—

Scarlett paused at the sight of something. On Tella’s vanity sat a long rectangular box made of etched glass and silver edges with a clasp that made Scarlett’s heart trip a beat. It was a sun with a star inside and a teardrop inside of the star.

The symbol of Caraval.

Scarlett now hated that crest more than the color purple, but she distinctly knew that box, with its wretched emblem, had not been there before.

Slowly Scarlett raised the lid.

A slip of paper. Carefully, she unfolded the note. It was dated almost a year ago.

1st day of the Hot Season,

Year 56, Elantine Dynasty

Dear Master Legend,

I believe you are a liar, a blackguard, and a villain, and I would very much like your help.

My father is a villain as well, though not the dashing sort like you. He’s the kind who likes to beat his daughters. I know this is not your problem, and since you probably have a heart made of black, perhaps you don’t care. But I’ve learned you did actually feel something when that woman threw herself from your balcony after you rejected her during Caraval a few years ago. I heard you were so upset, that was the real reason you stopped traveling.

Helping my sister and me won’t completely make up for whatever happened then, but it might help a little. I also think it would create a very interesting game, and I know how you like to play.

Yours truly,

Donatella Dragna

Scarlett reread the letter, again and again. Each time she believed it a little more and a little more, until at last she believed it without a doubt.

The game was not over yet. And it seemed Scarlett was right: this year’s Caraval really was about more than just Legend and her grandmother. In fact, it appeared her sister had made some sort of bargain with the master of Caraval himself.

“Jo!” she called. “Jovan!”

The girl appeared with a peculiar bounce to her step the second time her name was shouted.

“Take me to Master Legend,” Scarlett said.

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