“I didn’t think you cared about me,” he said.

“I don’t,” Tella snapped.

It would have been more convincing if she’d pulled her hand away.

She didn’t need his help to win the game, and she didn’t trust him, but she unfortunately liked the feel of him. The bleeding had brought a chill that hadn’t been there before, but Dante managed to erase it as he cradled her hand and leaned in closer, until Tella’s back was against the door, and Dante’s body was moving closer to hers.

There was still enough room for her to grab the handle, to escape if she wanted. And she told herself that’s what she wanted. But her fingers were as stubborn as he was—they refused to reach for the exit.

“Tell me what he wants from you,” Dante said roughly.

“He wants to marry me, that’s it.”

Dante shook his head.

“You know, it’s starting to feel really insulting that you keep refusing to believe that.”

“Maybe I just don’t believe that’s all that he wants.” Dante’s free hand found Tella’s cheek and tilted her face toward his.

A flush went down her neck all the way to her toes as he slowly stroked her jaw.

“If you don’t tell me, I will figure it out,” Dante said.

And doom himself in the process—or reveal her plans to Legend and damn Tella as well as her mother.

Tella forced herself to remove his hand from her cheek. “I don’t dislike you, Dante. In fact, if you weren’t a mere actor, I would probably really like you. You’re almost as good-looking as you think you are. But I want more than a pretty face. Jacks can give me that. He can give me everything I’ve ever desired.” Tella pressed her lips together and briefly closed her eyes, as if imagining the kiss she’d shared with Jacks on the dance floor.

When she opened her eyes again, Dante’s face was a bare inch away, and his eyes were as black as spilled ink.

Heat uncurled low in Tella’s stomach.

“Either you don’t want much, or you’re lying,” Dante said. “I might believe you’ll actually go through with marrying him, but given what I know about you, I doubt someone like him can fulfill your every desire.”

When he finished, his lips were so close, one careless move and her mouth would brush his. Tella raised her chin slowly, aware she was walking a treacherous line as she gave him a look made of pure heat. “Maybe there are things you don’t know about Jacks.”

Dante answered with a grin, but it wasn’t kind or warm or soft like grins were supposed to be. It was calculated, the slow, teasing way someone curved his lips just before he turned over a winning hand of cards. “Are you saying that because he’s the Prince of Hearts?”

Tella froze, and even the blood spilling from her fingertips stopped as everything inside her panicked, sharpening her senses further. If she wanted to persuade Dante that she had no idea what he was talking about, she’d need to recover quickly, but playing naive would only convince him she was in over her head. And maybe Tella was. She was cursed, her mother was trapped inside a card, and to save them both, Tella was now playing a game involving two infamous immortals—one of whom wasn’t supposed to exist anymore.

Yet even before reaching Valenda, Dante had talked about the Prince of Hearts as if he was still alive. It seemed oddly coincidental, especially as she recalled the opening of Jovan’s welcome speech:

Elantine has invited us here to save the Empire from her greatest fear.

For centuries the Fates were locked away, but now they wish to come out and play.

What if Jacks was one of the Fates who’d come out to—

No. Tella refused to finish the thought. Believing the game was real led straight to madness. The other obvious explanation was that Jacks was playing a role in the game. But the blood dripping from Tella’s fingers and the heart dying in her chest felt like solid proof he was the real Prince of Hearts.

Dante had to be bluffing, gambling with lies just as he’d done with the matron at the palace when he’d first claimed Tella was engaged to Jacks.

“If Jacks really was the Prince of Hearts, I’d already be dead from his kiss.”

“Maybe you’re his one true love. Or he’s allowed you to live because he has other plans.” Dante’s eyes quickly traveled toward the fitted lines of Tella’s lacy sapphire gown, as if he somehow knew Jacks had sent it.

“Don’t stare at me like that,” Tella said. “You’re the one who claimed I was engaged to him.”

A final drop of blood fell to the floor, grimly punctuating her sentence.

Dante looked at it and his entire face shifted. His familiar arrogance fell away as he said, “You’re right. This is my fault. I made a bad choice. But I swear, when I said you were engaged to the heir, I didn’t know he was the Prince of Hearts.”

“Then how did you figure it out?”

“When I saw you dance with him at the ball. The Fates aren’t natural; they don’t belong in this world, just like those of us who have died and come back to life.” Dante swallowed thickly, and when he spoke again his voice was unusually quiet. “Everyone else at the ball might have been oblivious, but after he kissed you I saw him glowing—”

Bustling footsteps sounded in the hall outside.

Dante’s mouth slammed into a line.

The footsteps grew louder and closer.

“You might want to pretend you don’t know me,” he said.

“Why?” Tella asked.

“I’m not exactly supposed to be here.”

“I thought you arranged this!”

Dante’s mouth kicked into a dry smile. “Did I actually say that?”

Bastard!

He pushed off the wall as Tella’s mouth fell open. Though she should have known he hadn’t actually arranged it. He’d just hijacked her note and crossed out the proper time.

Before she could curse him out loud, someone shoved against the other side of the door.

Tella tripped forward as the door crashed against her.

Dante caught her instantly, two solid arms snaking around her hips, right as the seamstress stepped inside the room.

The woman’s eyes landed on their compromising position, before moving to the spatters of blood on Tella’s dress and the floor. “I don’t know what you’re doing in here, young man, but you have half of a second to leave before I tell the heir about this. And I think we all know what will happen then.”

“Be careful,” Dante countered, “you’re making His Deadly Highness sound predictable.”

Dante’s hands slipped away from Tella as he whispered in her ear, “I know you don’t want to believe me, but Caraval is more than just a game this time. I’m not sure what the Prince of Hearts has promised you, but to the Fates, humans are nothing more than sources of labor or entertainment.”

Tella’s heart managed to kick out a few extra beats, returning to almost a normal rate as Dante left. If Jacks hadn’t cursed her, she imagined it would have been pounding loud enough for everyone inside of Minerva’s to hear.

Once Dante was gone the seamstress was all smiles again. She set some cake and wine atop a small table that Tella hadn’t noticed. It was as if nothing had happened, though Tella wondered if the woman would be reporting everything that occurred to Jacks.

The seamstress spoke of Jacks constantly as she forced Tella to stand so she could fit her dresses. To Tella’s dismay, none of them contained any hidden weapons. But Tella couldn’t deny the garments were stunning. There were gowns that changed color in the sun, and capes sewn with thread made of stardust so they would always glitter at night.