more unnatural up close. The only things that moved were the blades of grass around Scarlett’s feet, and the ants. The ants crawled over the Sun Festival feast while the family remained frozen in their endless toast, mouths awkwardly parted and teeth stained with dark purple from whatever they’d been drinking.
“Would Legend do something like this?” Scarlett asked.
“No, he can be cruel, but he’s never this cruel.” Julian frowned as he checked the pulse of the youngest girl. “She’s still alive.”
He continued to search for heartbeats as the family remained eerily still.
“How could someone even do this?” Scarlett scanned the table, as if she might find a bottle of poison hidden among the food. But everything looked perfectly normal—flatbread, long beans, speckled cobs of corn, baskets of fresh sunberries, latticed pig pies, and—
She paused on the butter knives sticking out from the table. Dull, flat metal, the kind of utensils that cut poorly and yet someone had been strong enough to shove the tip of each one through the cloth into the table, pinning a note in place.
“Julian, come look at this.” Scarlett carefully leaned over the feast, not daring to touch the knives or the note as she read aloud.
* * *
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE …
IF THE SUN HASN’T SET, THEY SHOULD ALL STILL BE ALIVE.
BUT ONCE THIS DAY COMES TO AN END,
I’M AFRAID THIS FAMILY WILL ALL BE DEAD.
IF YOU WISH TO STOP THEM FROM TURNING TO STONE,
WHOEVER READS THIS MUST ATONE.
RECALL YOUR LIES AND ACTS DONE OUT OF FEAR,
THEN CONFESS YOUR LATEST MISDEED OUT LOUD FOR ALL TO HEAR.
—POISON
* * *
“It doesn’t even rhyme properly,” Julian grumbled.
“I think you’re missing the point,” Scarlett whispered. She didn’t know if the statues were capable of hearing, but if they were, she didn’t want to scare them with what she was thinking. “Did you see the name at the bottom of the note? There’s a Fate called the Poisoner.”
It wasn’t exactly the same name as Poison, so maybe this wasn’t the work of a Fate. But if it was, it was a terrible sign.
Until recently, Scarlett had never thought much of the Fates—the mythical, ancient beings had always been her sister’s obsessions. But after the Fates had been freed from their cursed Deck of Destiny, Scarlett had peppered Tella with questions, and studied up on them herself.
The Fates were so ancient that most people believed them to be myths that only existed as painted images on Decks of Destiny, which people used to tell fortunes. But they weren’t merely painted images; they were real and had been cursed to live inside a Deck of Destiny for centuries. There wasn’t a great deal of information on what exactly they could do with their powers, but the name the Poisoner seemed rather self-explanatory.
“Do you think this could mean that the Fates are waking?”
“We didn’t think they’d wake up this quickly.” Julian tugged at the knot of his cravat. “It could just be a prank for the Sun Festival.”
“Who’s capable of a prank like this?”
“The Prince of Hearts can stop hearts,” Julian hazarded.
“But their hearts are still beating.” Scarlett hadn’t been the one to touch their pulses, but she imagined they were pounding. Hers was. She could feel her heart racing as the plumes of purple panic coming from the family began to curl like smoke from a growing fire.
“I think we should do what it asks, and confess our last lies out loud,” Scarlett said. “Even if we go back to town and find an open apothecary, I have a feeling they won’t be able to fix this.” And Scarlett couldn’t leave these people like this.
Julian shook his head as he looked over the frozen family once more. “I should have gone along with the lie and said I was your cousin.”
“Why do you say that?” Scarlett asked.
“Because the last lie I told was to you.” Julian tore a hand through his hair and when he looked back at her again, it hung over nervous and regretful eyes.
An awful sinking feeling turned inside of Scarlett. His lies had torn them apart before. Lying was the habit Julian couldn’t seem to break, perhaps from being a part of Caraval for so long. But with all his honesty today, she’d started to hope that he had changed. But maybe she’d been wrong.
“I’m sorry, Crimson. I lied when I said I left for five weeks to give you space. I left because I was angry you wanted to meet the count, and I thought