Fate’s mouth fell into a pout. “Where are you two going that could possibly be more interesting than spending time with me?”
Images of the Immortal Library ripped from Decks of Destiny took over Tella’s thoughts. She saw magical bookshelves full of forbidden volumes, and then the Ruscica open to a page with detailed instructions of how to kill the Fallen Star.
“We’re going to ruins around Valenda in search of the Immortal Library,” Legend said. His voice was still completely level. Tella didn’t know if he wasn’t even trying to fight the questions, or if the magic affected him more than her, making it impossible to hold off from answering.
Sometime between now and the last question, the Priestess had moved closer to him. Her long white fingers were on his arm, trailing up to his neck. “That place isn’t meant for humans. What would I need to do to make you stay here with me instead?”
The question wasn’t directed at Tella this time—it didn’t press against her skull. And yet she sensed the Fate had placed more magic behind it. Tella could feel the question filling the ruins with a sickly sweet stench as the Fate’s hands climbed into Legend’s hair, the same way Esmeralda’s had, and Tella feared the Fate wasn’t just using her powers to compel Legend to answer a question. She wanted to possess him.
“Nothing will change his mind!” Tella shouted, drawing the wretched Fate’s attention her way.
The Priestess’s lips thinned. “You don’t have a strong sense of self-preservation, do you?”
“I’m stronger than most people think,” Tella said.
She thought she saw a fraction of Legend’s missing smile return.
And before the Fate could ask another question, the earth began to shake. The ruins rattled. The steps split, the cursed fountain cracked in half, wine spilling all over the ground, as the remains of the ruined mansion collapsed in a thunderous cloud of dust and debris.
The dust was so thick Tella couldn’t see Legend or the Priestess, but she thought she heard the Fate’s footsteps running away as Tella searched for a safe place to hide until the earthquake ceased.
All she could see was dust. But she didn’t choke on it, and though the world around her was collapsing, she realized that nothing had actually touched her.
“Legend?” she called tentatively, although she was fairly certain the Priestess was now gone. “Tell me you’re doing this.”
The dust vanished, the shaking stopped, and the ruins returned to as they had been. The only cracks that remained were the ones that had been there before. An illusion.
Legend appeared next. But unlike the ruins, he looked much different than before. Damp hair clung to his brow, and his bronze skin looked gray as he stumbled toward Tella.
Legend never stumbled.
Her arms went around him instinctively, and either he was truly weakened or they’d reached a temporary truce, because he didn’t push her away. He leaned heavily against her, making it impossible for her to move. He had drained himself using too much magic.
Legend was private about many things, including anything involving his powers. But she knew his magic was at its peak during Caraval because it was fueled by all the emotions of everyone in attendance. He’d probably been stronger at the palace for similar reasons.
“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble to scare her,” Tella said.
Legend’s fingers found her hair and combed through her curls, an idle gesture that he probably didn’t even realize he was doing. “I didn’t want her asking questions you might refuse to answer.”
“I’m not that stubborn,” Tella huffed.
“Yes, you are,” he murmured, “but I like that about you.” Legend’s hand left her curls and wrapped around the vulnerable back of her neck—definitely an intentional gesture. He stroked her skin with fingers that made her think he wasn’t as weak as he seemed and then he tilted her head back until she was looking up at him.
His color was already returning to his handsome face, making him look a little untouchable, even as he continued to touch her.
Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. For a weak moment she hoped this wasn’t a temporary truce, and that he’d finally seen through her speech from last night.
He released her neck and pulled away. “We should go.”
“But I’ve just gotten here.”
The Prince of Hearts appeared at the top of the steps. He leaned against a crumbling rail, an elegant mess of wrinkled clothing, lazy movements, and golden hair, which hung over eyes that appeared as if he’d been watching them