“I swear I’m telling the truth,” she whispered.

“I’m not sure I believe you, and I no longer just want Legend’s name.” Another graze of his breath as Jacks’s cold mouth traveled higher, ghosting over her jaw without actually touching her skin.

Tella opened her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath.

His gaze was ravenous. She knew they were only playing a role for the couple drifting by, yet Tella imagined Jacks’s mouth widening enough to bite her, the same way he’d sunk his teeth into that white apple the other night.

Then as quickly as he had pressed her back against the pillar, he was pulling away. The couple that had happened upon them had already stumbled off to somewhere else.

Jacks’s eyes stayed on her, narrowed in a way that could have just as easily been displeasure or amusement at her growing discomfort.

“I like you, Donatella, so I’ll give you one more chance. But, since you failed to bring me the information I asked for, I’ll need to alter the conditions of our agreement. If you succeed with both tasks, then, and only then, will I consider reuniting you with your mother.”

“So you know where she is?”

Jacks’s nostrils flared. “You dare to question me when you’re the only one who’s failed to keep her promises? If you’d brought me Legend’s name, you’d be looking at her now. Instead I’ll give you until the end of this song to make your choice.”

The music all but stopped—save for one clear cello note that might expire any second.

“Tell me what you want,” Tella said.

A faint twitch at the corner of Jacks’s mouth. “I now need two things from you instead of one. I’ve worked very hard to become Elantine’s heir, but the rumor I’m engaged to you has put my position in jeopardy. It’s already spread across the court. If it’s exposed as a lie, given my reputation, people will expect me to kill you. If I don’t, I’ll be seen as weak, and then I’ll be the one who’s killed.”

“What are you proposing?”

“According to every whisper in the palace, a proposal has already happened.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

He laughed. “No.” But for a moment, Tella swore Jacks cocked his head as if considering her. “I don’t wish to wed you. I only need you to pretend you’re my fiancée until the end of Caraval. Once the game is over, we can say our engagement was part of it and dissolve it with no harm done.”

It should have been an easy yes. Tella had faked an engagement before. Yet something about this bargain struck her as off. It felt like making a deal with one of Legend’s performers. There was no way it could be as simple as Jacks made it sound. There had to be something else he wasn’t sharing.

“What else do you want?” she asked.

“I need to make sure you can follow through with this request first. If you can convince everyone at this ball that we’re deeply and truly in love, then I’ll tell you the second thing I want.” Jacks stole Tella’s hand, his soft leather gloves pressing firmly against her bare skin.

“Time to see how good of an actress you are.” He flashed his dimples, all carefree, boyish charm. But Tella could not forget how quickly he could turn from careless to cruel as he drew her away from their hidden alcove toward the looming cage where everyone was dancing.

More fragile blue petals fell from her gown.

Tella took a steeling breath. She didn’t know what she would do if she failed, and she wasn’t quite sure what she’d have to do to succeed in convincing the entire ball they were in love.

The thick bars of the cage smelled of metal and royal ambition. The air was almost too thick to breathe, sweltering with warm bodies, perfume, and whispered seductions. Jacks’s fingers tensed as they entered. Briefly Tella imagined he didn’t like cages either, but it was far more likely he was trying to keep her from running off.

There were even more dancers clustered inside the cage than she’d realized. Overlooked ladies and the occasional couple rested on the raised satin cushions strewn about the edges, while colorful skirts and suits twirled atop the marbled green dance floor as if they were flowers being tossed by the breeze.

Tella spied a few familiar faces.

First she saw Caspar, who’d played the role of Legend in the last game, as well as the role of her fiancé. Dressed in a tawny suit that make him look foxlike, he appeared to be whispering secrets to another handsome young man, who probably had no idea Caspar was a performer. Just beyond, lounging on a cushion, Nigel frightened off nobles and made them blush all at once as he traced the barbed-wire tattoos inked around his lips.

Then there was Armando. An attentive courtier in a scarlet gown pawed at his white coat with her red fingernails. But rather than enjoy her attention, Armando’s gaze fixed on Tella. The cage grew warmer as his emerald eyes followed her. This wasn’t the mocking way he’d looked at her earlier. His interest clung to her as if she were the night’s first act of entertainment.

And he wasn’t the only one staring.

No longer was everyone only looking at Jacks. Tella swore their intrigued gazes and painted eyes had all jumped to her. Tella liked attention, but she wasn’t sure she enjoyed this level of scrutiny. It made the stifling cage feel suddenly small. The light inside had turned from whiskey colored and celebratory to unnerving shades of brassy plum. She especially felt the women, judging her freshly mussed curls and her nearly backless gown as they whispered to one another words that Tella didn’t need to hear to imagine. Few things were quite so brutal as critical ladies.

A trio of girls around her age, all dripping jealousy, actually tried to trip her as she passed.

“Relax,” Jacks murmured. “We’re not going to convince anyone we’re engaged if your eyes keep darting around as though you can’t wait to escape.”

“We’re inside of a cage.” Tella tilted her head toward the dense bars above, where iron chandeliers crawled with blue and white vines that swayed back and forth as if they, too, wished to flee.

“Don’t look at the cage. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” Jacks took Tella’s chin in his fingers, cold, even through the gloves. Around them, hissed words and torrid conversations mingled with softer sounds of flowing liquor, hushed laughter, and animal rumbles. But when Jacks’s lips parted a second time, Tella only heard the melodic sound of his voice as he whispered, “I know it’s not just the cage that’s scaring you, darling.”

“You’re giving yourself far too much credit.”

“Am I?” He dropped his hand from her chin to her neck, soft leather resting against her pulse. He stroked slowly, just a delicate brush of his gloves, which unfortunately made her cowardly heart beat faster.

“Relax,” he repeated. “The only thing you should think about is that you’re more desirable than anyone else in this room. Every person here wishes they were you.”

“You’re definitely giving yourself too much credit now.”

His laughter was surprisingly disarming. “Then tell yourself everyone wishes they were me, dancing with you.” With a grin he must have stolen from the devil, Jacks looped an arm around Tella’s hips and swept her onto the dance floor.

For someone who’d made it sound as if he was concerned about his reputation, it surprised Tella how much he acted as if he couldn’t care less about what everyone else thought. Another dance was currently under way and he cut directly through all the other couples. He was completely disrespectful, yet far more skilled than anyone she’d ever danced with.