Scarlett did not dream of Legend. She did not dream at all, no matter how hard she chased sleep. Each time she shut her eyes, the snaking corridors beneath Castillo Maldito stretched out, filled with flickering torches and screams.
When she opened her eyes, lurking shadows moved where they did not belong. Then she closed her eyes again and the dreadful cycle repeated.
She told herself it was only in her head, the shadows and the sounds. Wails and footsteps and crackling noises.
Until something cracked that was definitely in her room.
Scarlett sat up carefully. The dying fire buzzed as it tossed bits of light here and there. But the noise she heard was louder than that.
It came again. Another crack, right before the hidden door to her room flew open and Julian stumbled in. “Hello, Crimson.”
“What are—” Scarlett couldn’t finish her question. Even in the grainy light she could tell something was not right. His uneven steps. The tilt of his head. Quickly, she escaped her bed, covering herself with a blanket. “What happened to you?”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Julian swayed as if drunk, but all Scarlett could smell was the metallic tang of blood.
“Who did this to you?”
“Remember, it’s only a game.” Julian smiled, twisted in the firelight, right before collapsing on the lounge.
“Julian!” Scarlett rushed to his side. His entire body was cold, as if he’d been outdoors all this time. She wanted to shake him, to wake him back up,
but she wasn’t sure that was a brilliant idea given all the blood. So much blood. Very real blood. It matted his dark hair and stained her hands as she tried to put him in a better position. “I’ll be right back—I’m going to leave and get you help.”
“No—” Julian grabbed her arm. His fingers were frosty, like the rest of him. “Don’t go. It’s only a head wound; they look much worse than they are. Just grab the towel and the basin. Please.” His fingers tightened as he said the word please. “It will raise too many questions if you bring anyone else up here. The ‘vultures,’ as you called them, they’ll think it’s part of the game.”
“But it’s not?”
Julian wobbled his head as his chilly hand fell away from Scarlett’s arm.
Scarlett didn’t believe that the vultures were the only reason he wanted to avoid attention, but she hurriedly fetched two towels and the basin. Within a minute the water was red and brown. After a few minutes Julian gained a bit of warmth. He was right about the head wound; it didn’t seem to be as bad as it looked. The gash was shallow, though he tilted to the side as he tried to sit upright.
“I think you should stay lying down.” Scarlett placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you injured anywhere else?”
“You might want to check here.” Julian lifted his shirt, revealing perfect rows of golden-brown muscle, so much she might have blushed, if not for all of the blood that stretched across his abdomen.
Using the cleaner of the towels, Scarlett cautiously pressed down against his skin, moving the cloth with slow, circular motions. She’d never touched a young man—or any man—like this. She was careful to touch him only with the cloth, though her fingers were tempted to travel elsewhere. To see if his skin felt as soft as it looked. Would the count have such a flat, lined stomach?
“Julian, you need to keep your eyes open!” Scarlett scolded as she attempted to push thoughts of his body away. She needed to focus on her task. “I think this cut might need stiches,” Scarlett said, yet as her cloth wiped away the blood it revealed a smooth line of unmarked, unbroken flesh. “Wait,
I don’t see a wound.”
“There’s not one. But that feels really good.” Julian moaned and arched his back.
“You scoundrel!” Scarlett pulled her hands away, resisting the urge to smack him only because he was already injured. “What really happened? And tell me the truth or I will throw you out of this room right now.”
“You don’t need to make any threats, Crimson. I remember our deal. I’m not planning on staying or stealing your virtue. I just wanted to give you this.” He reached into his pocket. She noticed his knuckles weren’t bruised or bloody, on either hand. If he’d been in a fight, he hadn’t fought back.
Again she was about to ask what happened when he opened his hand. Sparkling red.
“Were these the things you were fussing about?” Julian dropped her scarlet earrings into her hands unceremoniously, as if he were handing back one of the bloody towels.
“Where did you find them?” Scarlett gasped. Though it truly didn’t matter where he’d recovered them. He’d gone to the trouble of retrieving them. Despite his rough handling, not a stone was missing or chipped or broken. During her studies, Scarlett’s father had required she learn the proper way to say thank you in a dozen languages, but none of those phrases seemed like quite enough in that moment.
“Is that how you got injured?” she asked.
“If you believe I’d get injured over costume jewelry, you’re thinking too highly of me again.” Julian pushed up from the sofa and started for the door.
“Stop,” Scarlett said. “You can’t leave in your condition.” His head cocked to the side. “Is that an invitation to stay?” Scarlett hesitated.
He was injured.
That still didn’t make it appropriate.
She was engaged, and even if she wasn’t—
“I didn’t think so.” Julian grabbed the doorknob.
“Wait—” Scarlett stopped him again. “You still haven’t told me what happened to you. Does it have something to do with the tunnels beneath
Castillo Maldito?”
Julian paused, his hand hovering over the knob as if suspended by an invisible thread. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Scarlett distinctly recalled the second set of screams she’d heard. “I followed you.”
Julian’s expression sharpened; hair dark as wet feathers shadowed a brow pulled tight. “I wasn’t in any tunnels. If you were following someone, it wasn’t me.”
“If you weren’t down there, then how did this happen?”
“I swear, I’ve never heard about these tunnels.” Julian dropped his hand from the doorknob and took a step closer to Scarlett. “Tell me exactly what you saw down there.”
The fire in the hearth finally died, sending a gray coil of smoke into the air, the color of things better said in whispers.
Scarlett wanted to doubt him. If Julian had been down there it would explain at least a few things. Then again, if he’d been the other person she’d heard screaming, she imagined more than just his head would bear a wound.
“I found the tunnels after I left the fortune-teller’s tent.” She detailed everything that followed, leaving out the bit about how she’d thought he had a heart made of black. After Julian had given her the earrings she’d stopped believing that was entirely true, though she still watched him carefully for any signs of deception. She wanted to trust him, but a lifetime of mistrust made it impossible. He still seemed unsteady on his feet, but she imagined it was mostly from the cut on his head. “Do you think it might be where they’re keeping Tella?” she asked.
“That’s not how Legend works. He might lead us through screaming corridors to find a clue to your sister, but I doubt he’s keeping her there.” Julian flashed his teeth, reminding her of his wolfish look from that first night on the beach. “Legend likes his prisoners to feel like guests.”
Scarlett tried to figure out if Julian was just being dramatic. She’d never heard of Legend holding anyone captive. But Julian had said something similar before, and his use of the word prisoners left Scarlett with the same
uneasy feeling she’d had the first time she’d wondered why Legend had chosen to abduct her sister. “If Legend doesn’t have Tella locked up, then what is he doing with her?”
“Now you’re finally starting to ask the right questions.” Julian’s eyes met Scarlett’s. There was a flicker of something dangerous, right before they began to shut and he swayed once more.
“Julian!” Scarlett caught both his arms, but he was too heavy to hold, and the couch was too far. She pressed against him. He’d gone from cold to almost feverish. Heat poured from his skin through his shirt, warming her in unexpected ways as she held him up to the door with her body.
“Crimson,” Julian murmured as his eyes flickered back open. Light brown, the color of caramel and liquid amber lust.
“I think you need to lie back down.” Scarlett started to back away, but Julian’s arms wrapped around her waist. As hot as his chest and just as solid.
Scarlett tried to wiggle free, but the look on his face stopped her. He’d never stared at her like this before. Sometimes he gazed at her as if he wanted to be her undoing, but just then it was as if he wanted her to undo him. It was probably just the fever and the head wound. But for a moment, she swore he wanted to kiss her. Really kiss her, not like when he’d been teasing in the Castillo. Her heartbeat quickened and every inch of her felt sensitive to every part of him as his hot hands roamed up her back. She knew she should have pulled away, but his hands seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and she found herself letting him guide her, gently bringing her closer as his lips parted.
Scarlett gasped.
Julian’s hands stopped moving. Her tiny sound seemed to jolt him back. His eyes opened wider, as if he suddenly remembered he thought she was just a silly girl afraid to play a game. He released her and cold air replaced the heat of his hands.
“I think it’s time for me to go.” He reached for the doorknob. “I’ll find you in the tavern right after sunset. We can go take a look at those tunnels together.”
Julian slipped out the door, leaving Scarlett wondering what had just happened. It would have been a mistake to kiss him, yet she felt … disappointed. It came in cool shades of forget-me-not blue, which wrapped around her like evening fog, making her feel hidden enough to acknowledge that she wanted to experience more of Caraval’s pleasures than she would ever have admitted out loud.
It wasn’t until Scarlett lay back down that she realized Julian had managed to avoid telling her exactly how he got injured. Or, how he managed to make it back to La Serpiente, long after the sun had come up and the doors had locked.
