and he truly did look handsome, almost achingly so. But he also appeared far more like the idea of Legend than a genuine person, or the Dante she’d known and fallen in love with.
Tella’s heart constricted. She’d never wanted to fall in love with anyone. And in that moment she hated him, for making her feel so many things for him.
A final firework burst into the sky, turning the entire dreamscape the most brilliant shade of blue she’d ever seen. It looked like the color of wishes come true and fantasies made real. And as the fireworks fell, they played music so sweet, sirens would have been jealous.
He was trying to dazzle her. But dazzle was a lot like romance—fantastic while it lasted, but it never lasted long enough. And Tella still wanted more. She didn’t want to become another nameless girl in the many stories told about Legend, a girl who fell for everything he said, just because he leaned across a boat and looked at her with stars dancing in his eyes.
“I didn’t come here to fight with you.” Legend’s hand lifted, as if he might reach for her, but then his long fingers dipped over the low side of the boat and idly played with the midnight waters. “I wanted to see if you received my note, and ask if you wanted the prize for winning Caraval.”
She pretended to think as she recalled every word of the letter by heart. He’d given her hope he still cared by wishing her happy birthday and offering her the prize. He said he’d be waiting for her to come and collect it. But one thing he’d not said was that he was sorry for any of the ways he’d hurt her.
“I read the message,” Tella said, “but I’m not interested in the prize. I’m done with games.”
He laughed, low and painfully familiar.
“What’s so funny?”
“That you’re pretending our games are over.”
2
Donatella
Legend looked like a freshly woken storm. His hair was mussed by the wind, his straight shoulders were dusted in snow, and the buttons of his coat were made of ice as he strolled closer, through a chilling-blue forest made of frost.
Tella wore a cloak of cobalt fur, which she wrapped tighter around her shoulders. “You look as if you’re trying to trick me.”
A sly grin twisted his mouth. The night before, he’d seemed like an illusion, but tonight he felt more like Dante, dressed in familiar shades of black. But while Dante was usually warm, Tella couldn’t help but imagine the dream’s frigid temperature reflected Legend’s true mood.
“I only want to know if you wish to collect your prize for winning Caraval.”
Tella might have spent half of her waking day wondering what the prize was, but she forced herself to tamp down her curiosity. When Scarlett had won Caraval, she had received a wish. Tella could have used a wish, but she had a feeling Legend had even more in store for her. So she would have said yes … if she hadn’t sensed how very much Legend wanted that answer.
3
Donatella
Every night Legend visited her dreams like a villain from a storybook. Night after night after night after night. Without fail, for nearly two months, he always showed up, and he always disappeared after receiving the same answer to his question.
Tonight they were in an otherworldly version of the saloon inside the Church of Legend. Countless portraits of artists’ imaginings of Legend looked down on them as a spectral piano player tapped a quiet tune, while ghost-thin patrons clad in colorful top hats danced around.
Tella sat in a clamshell-shaped chair the color of rainforest mist, while Legend lounged across from her on a tufted chaise as green as the sugar cubes he kept rolling between his deft fingers.
After that first night in the boat, he hadn’t worn the top hat or the red tailcoat, confirming her suspicions that the items were part of his costume rather than his person. He’d gone back to dressing in crisp black—and he was still quick to laugh and to smile, like Dante.
But unlike Dante, who had always found excuses to put his hands on her, Legend never, ever touched Tella in dreams. If they rode a hot-air balloon, it was so large that there was no danger of her accidentally bumping into him. If they strolled through a garden of waterfalls, he stayed along the edge of the path where their arms weren’t at risk of brushing. Tella didn’t know if their touching would