others were soft sky blue, a few had hints of violet, while some had periwinkle veins. The butterflies weren’t alive, but they were so delicate and ethereal, at a glance they looked real. Exactly like the gown of her dreams, the dress she’d worn four nights ago when they’d been inside a dream version of the Church of Legend. She’d thought he hadn’t even noticed what she’d worn. But clearly, he had.
It was tempting to shove the dress in the box and not show up at the party at all. The Fates were still out there; she needed to go to the Vanished Market. She needed to find the Fallen Star’s weakness. It was selfish to attend a party right now.
But the real truth was, she was less afraid of battling monsters than she was of giving Legend her heart once again.
Before Legend, Tella had wanted nothing to do with love. She’d believed she was destined to only experience unrequited love. Then she’d fallen in love with him, and it had been like drinking magic—indescribable, all-consuming, and fantastically addictive. Tella didn’t even want to get married, but if there was one person who could tempt her, it was Legend.
“Are you going to go?” Scarlett asked.
“Of course I’m going to go,” Tella said. She just didn’t know what she would do if Legend actually proposed. No one knew how to make her dream or wonder or feel as much as Legend. But no one knew how to break her like Legend did, either. She still wasn’t entirely over the last heartbreak, and if he did it again, she feared she’d never get over it.
23
Scarlett
Every step Scarlett took from the palace felt like a move in the wrong direction.
To avoid the chaos of Legend’s Midnight Maze, which had taken over all of the outer palace grounds, Scarlett had asked Nicolas for another meeting spot. He’d responded by sending a hand-drawn map with clues. She imagined he was trying at romance, and if the map had been from Julian, it would have worked. But instead of feeling romanced, Scarlett felt as if she were making a mistake.
She should have told Tella that she was going to see Nicolas. She’d told Tella she was calling off the game. But she hadn’t confessed she was telling Nicolas this in person. Deep down, Scarlett knew it was a questionable choice to leave the safety of the palace grounds.
After yesterday’s incidents with the Poisoner, she’d not heard of any other Fates causing havoc for fun. But as Scarlett walked Valenda’s steep streets, she saw multiple Fates in the form of warnings and Wanted posters tacked up by Legend’s guards.
The flickering pages were all over the city. Some cautioned people not to accept drinks from strangers. Others had the word Wanted above sketches that resembled Tella’s description of the Fallen Star. But they didn’t explicitly say that they were actually Fates. The partygoers on the street just strolled by them.
Scarlett wanted to shake everyone that walked past and make them read the notices. She knew the Fates fed off of fear, but everyone looked far too vulnerable.
Scarlett reached into her pocket, checking once again to make sure the Reverie Key was still there. At least she was protected—if she wanted to escape all she needed to do was shove the key in the closest lock. And yet she couldn’t shrug off her unease.
Even her dress seemed uncertain.
As she followed the map to the docks at the edge of the city, Scarlett’s gown turned a wary shade of brown, perfect for being overlooked. A few more steps over rickety wood and her nose tickled with the familiar scents of salt and fish and forever wet wood.
Trisda, the tiny isle where she’d spent most of her life, had always smelled like this. Rather than making her homesick, it made her want to flee, the same way Trisda had always made her want to flee. But Scarlett had decided after Caraval that she would not let fear rule her.
She counted the docks, following the map Nicolas had drawn for her until she came upon a long wharf covered with a black-and-gold carpet that led to a ship that looked like a floating palace. Its hull was carved with ornate images of mermaids and mermen holding tridents and seashells. The masts were decorated as well—giants with crowns of stars around their heads as they held out sumptuous purple sails.
It was almost offensive in its finery. This ship belonged to someone who thought