Dante’s gaze traveled skyward, and Tella swore more than one star blinked out of existence as he said, “I’m sure many would thank you for that.”

Tella still fumed. “Why does Legend even keep him around?”

“Every good story needs a villain.”

“But the best villains are the ones you secretly like, and my nana always said Legend was the villain in Caraval.”

Dante’s lips twisted into something like a smirk. “Of course she did.”

“Are you saying she was lying?”

“Everyone either wants Legend, or wants to be Legend. The only way to keep innocent young girls from running off to find him is to tell them he’s a monster. But that doesn’t mean it’s all a lie.” Dante’s lips widened into a taunting smile and his dark eyes shimmered as they returned to Tella.

The scoundrel was teasing her. Or perhaps he was Legend and couldn’t resist talking about how others were so obsessed with him. Dante was definitely handsome and arrogant enough to be Legend, but Tella imagined the master of Caraval had more important things to do on the first night of the game than torment her.

Another bell rang in the distance. Midnight would approach in fifteen minutes. If Tella didn’t leave at this moment she would be late to meet her friend.

It felt wrong not to run back to Scarlett; Tella could only imagine how upset her sister must have been to learn how deeply Armando, and everyone else, had deceived her during Caraval. Tella hadn’t wanted her to find out this way. But Tella’s friend was already at the ball, and in his letter he’d said he would not wait past midnight.

Tella did not enjoy the idea of abandoning her sister. But Scarlett would forgive her, and the same could not be said for her friend if Tella arrived late.

“As delightful as this rendezvous has been,” she told Dante, “I’m tardy for a party, and I imagine you have a job to do.”

Before he could attempt to stop her, she loped toward the garden’s exit. More stars winked out as Tella made her way to the glowing carriage house, where a servant helped her inside of a topaz coach still smelling of its last rider’s perfume.

Dante slid in right behind her.

“Will you please stop following me?”

“Maybe Armando was being honest, for once, and it’s my job to follow you.” Dante stretched out in the seat across from her, his long legs practically filling all the empty space between them.

“You know what I think?” Tella said. “You want an excuse to spend the evening with me.”

Dante’s mouth formed a wry smile as he slowly ran a wide thumb over his lower lip. “I hate to break your heart, but I think of girls the way I imagine you think of ball gowns; it’s never a good idea to wear the same one more than once.”

If Tella could have shoved him out of the carriage and replaced him with the spoiled nobleman from the other day, she would have. Instead she gave him her sweetest smile.

“What a coincidence, that’s the same way I see young men.”

Dante held her gaze for a moment and then he laughed, the same deliciously low sound that always made her stomach tumble.

Attempting to ignore him, Tella turned toward the window as the box lifted into the lightless night.

She didn’t know where the stars had gone, but somewhere in between the garden and the carriage they’d vanished, turning the sky into an ocean of dark. Sooty and black and—

The night shimmered.

In between one moment and the next the world exploded with silver.

Tella shot her gaze toward the carriage window just in time to see the lost stars return. Glowing brighter than before, they danced into new constellations. She counted more than a dozen, all forming the same bewitching image—a sun with a starburst inside and a glittering teardrop inside of the star. The symbol of Caraval.

NIGHT ONE

OF CARAVAL

11

Tella once heard that during another performance Legend had changed the color of the sky. But she’d not thought he was powerful enough to wrangle the stars.

According to myths, the stars weren’t merely distant lights, they were beings older than the Fates, as terrible and powerful as they were mesmerizing and magical. And somehow Legend had manipulated them all.

“I’m surprised Legend doesn’t do this to the sky every night,” Tella said.

“He probably would if he could.” Dante’s tone was matter-of-fact, but Tella thought she glimpsed something deepen in his eyes as he looked out of the carriage window. “Magic can be fueled by time, blood, and emotions. Because of the hopes and dreams of those attending Caraval, Legend’s power is at its peak during the game. The constellations should re-form every night. Tonight the symbols rest above the different parties and balls marking the start of Caraval, but tomorrow there will be only one constellation, to guide the participants toward the district where the next set of clues is hidden.”

Tella might not have officially played the game before, but she knew the basics of how it worked. The first rule to remember was that Caraval was only a game. It took place at night, and at the beginning of the game everyone was given the same clue to start them on a journey, which would lead them toward other clues and eventually the prize. Scarlett had needed to find five clues during the last Caraval, and Tella imagined something similar would be true for this game.

But first she needed to locate her friend.

The carriage made a rocky landing, or perhaps it was Tella’s heart as she heard the last of twelve bells ringing in the midnight hour.

She slipped the luckless coin from her pocket to her hand, praying it would let her friend know she’d arrived to Idyllwild Castle just in time.

Holding the coin tight, she scanned the grounds for her friend, but she didn’t know anything about his appearance. All she saw were crackling torches circling a raised castle that looked trapped somewhere between a ruin and a fantasy. The crumbling white sandstone gleamed beneath Legend’s temporary constellations, showing off ancient battlements, crumbling parapet walks, and fanciful towers lined in vines of black-tipped red roses.

The gleaming fortress could have been borrowed from a young girl’s dream, yet Tella noticed the moat surrounding it contained waters so dark they didn’t reflect any of Legend’s stars. She wondered if it was because the fanciful exterior of the castle was merely a magical glamour, or if the stars were one of Legend’s illusions and Tella had been tricked by them.

Only minutes into the game, and already Tella was questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

She peered back toward the water, looking for her friend again, or for a boat to reach the castle, but it seemed there was only one path to the fortress—a highly arched, narrow bridge of interlocking diamond-shaped stones.

“Searching for your fiancé?” Dante asked.

“Careful,” Tella warned, “you sound jealous.”

“I’m hoping you’ll come to your senses,” Dante said. “This is your last chance to turn around. Our host doesn’t like to make it easy for people to come or go.”

“Then it’s a good thing I enjoy a challenge.”

“It seems we finally agree on something.” Dante tucked Tella’s arm into the solid crook of his elbow, as if silently accepting a dare.

“I thought you didn’t like wearing the same girl to a party twice.” Tella boldly met his eyes.

Dante’s coal-dark gaze shined with something wicked as he leaned down, warm lips brushing her hair and making other traitorous parts of her jealous as he said, “I do whatever my job requires.”