“No, Crimson, this time, I am telling the truth.” His eyes locked onto Scarlett’s, unmoving and unflinching, a gaze that required complete control. With a shudder, she saw that the lazy sailor from the boat had partially been an act, and if he’d desired, she realized Julian could have kept that performance up, continued to play the part of a boy who’d happened upon her and her sister and this entire game by accident. But it was as if he wanted Scarlett to see there was more to his story, even if he refused to say what it was.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Crimson.” Julian straightened, stretching taller while he flexed his back and his shoulders, as if he’d arrived at a sudden decision. “Believe me when I say I have good reasons for wanting inside that house. If you want to go and turn me in I won’t stop you or hold it against you, even though I did save your life today.”

“You only did that so that I could be your ticket into the game.”

Julian’s face went dark. “Is that really what you think?” For a moment he looked truly wounded.

Scarlett knew he was trying to manipulate her. She’d had enough experience to recognize the signs. Unfortunately, despite her lengthy history of being used by her father, or perhaps because of it, she was never good at evading it. No matter how much she wanted to avoid Julian, she couldn’t ignore the fact that he had saved her life.

“What about my sister? This lie might affect your relationship with her.”

“I wouldn’t call what we had a ‘relationship.’” Julian flicked a piece of lint off the shoulder of his tailcoat, as if that was how he pictured Tella. “Your sister was using me as much as I used her.”

“And now you’re doing the same with me,” Scarlett said.

“Don’t look so put out about it. I’ve played this game before. I can help you. And you never know, you might actually enjoy it.” Julian’s voice took on a flirtatious rhythm as he turned back into a careless sailor once more. “A lot of girls would feel lucky to be you.” He brushed a cool finger against Scarlett’s cheek.

“Don’t.” She backed away, her skin tingly where he’d touched her. “If we do this, there can be no more of … this, unless absolutely necessary. I still have a real fiancé. So just because we’re saying we’re engaged doesn’t mean we need to behave like it when no one is watching.”

The edge of Julian’s mouth tipped up. “Does this mean you’re not going to turn me in?”

He was the last person Scarlett wanted to partner with. But she also didn’t want to risk staying on the isle longer than one day. Julian had played before, and Scarlett had a feeling she would need his help if she wanted to find her sister quickly.

Just then, a new party of people arrived at the gate. Scarlett could hear the dim clamor of their distant chatter. The echo of the girl on the unicycle clapping.

Inside the house, violin music, richer than the darkest chocolate, started playing. It seeped outside and whispered to Scarlett as Julian’s smile turned seductive, all shameless curves and immoral promises. An invitation to places that proper young ladies didn’t think about, let alone visit. Scarlett didn’t want to imagine what sorts of things this smile had convinced other girls to do.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Scarlett said. “It doesn’t work on me.”

“That’s why it’s so fun.”

Scarlett loved her nana, but she thought of her as one of those women who never quite got over growing old. She’d spent the last years of her life boasting about the grandness of her youth. How she’d been beautiful. How she’d been adored by men. How she’d once worn a purple dress during Caraval that was the envy of every girl.

She’d shown Scarlett the dress on many occasions. When Scarlett was still small—before she began hating the color purple—she believed it was indeed the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen.

“Can I wear it?” she’d asked one day.

“Of course not! This dress is not a plaything.”

After that her nana put the gown away. But it remained in Scarlett’s memories.

Scarlett thought of the gown that night, as the doors to the turreted house swept open. And in that moment, she wondered if her grandmother had ever actually been to a Caraval performance, for Scarlett could not imagine her purple gown being of notice in such a spectacular place.

Lush red carpet cushioned her steps, while soft golden lights licked her arms with gentle kisses of warmth. Heat was everywhere, when a blink ago the world had been covered in cold. It tasted like light, bubbly on her tongue and sugary as it went down, making everything from the ends of her toes to the tips of her fingers tingle.

“It’s—” Words failed her. Scarlett wanted to say it was beautiful or marvelous. But those sentiments seemed suddenly too common for such an uncommon sight.

For the turreted mansion was not what it had seemed from the outside. The doors Scarlett and Julian stepped through led them not into a house, but onto a balcony—although the balcony was probably the size of a small home. Roofed by a canopy of crystal chandeliers, carpeted in plush cranberry rugs, and lined with gilded golden rails and spindles that arched around heavy red velvet drapes.

The drapes swished shut a moment after Scarlett and Julian entered, but it was long enough for Scarlett to glimpse the grandeur that lay beyond.

Julian appeared unimpressed, though he managed a dark laugh as Scarlett continued to fumble for words. “I keep forgetting you’ve never left your little isle before.”