Paradise the Lost.
Wanted for thievery, kidnapping, and murder.
Tella couldn’t pry her eyes from the picture. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to believe it.
After so many years of wondering about her mother, finally Tella might’ve found an answer to one of her unanswerable questions. But it was not the answer she’d hoped for. Her mother was a thief. A kidnapper. A murderer. A criminal.
Tella wanted to believe the poster was wrong. The mother she knew was not any of those things and yet as Jacks had said, The reason you couldn’t find her before is because Paloma was not her real name.
Her mother’s real name was Paradise, and Paradise’s resemblance to Paloma was unmistakable. It wasn’t just that she had the same oval-shaped face or thick dark hair. It was the way her lips were curved into that enchanting, enigmatic smile that Tella had grown up mimicking. Her large eyes were just the right amount of narrow at the corners, the perfect balance of clever and thoughtful. With a stab of jealousy, Tella realized she looked almost exactly like Scarlett. In the poster she even appeared to be around Scarlett’s age.
Did Scarlett know about this? Was this why her sister refused to ever speak of their mother?
“What can you tell me about Paradise the Lost?” Tella asked.
“She was special.” Aiko glided toward the portrait and ran an unadorned finger down Paradise’s cheek. “I never noticed until now, but she looks quite a bit like your Scarlett. Although Paradise was much bolder than your sister.”
“What else can you tell me about her?” “Your sister or Paradise?”
“I know my sister better than she knows herself. I want to know about Paradise.”
Aiko’s dark eyes sparked with a familiar gleam. With her enchanted histographer’s notebook, the girl was almost magical and tricky enough to be a Fate. Or maybe Aiko was Legend—it would be brilliant if the Great Master Legend turned out to be a girl. “I’ll tell you all I know, but I’ll need your payment first.”
“You can’t have a day of my life,” Tella said.
“You’re not really in an ideal position to bargain if you want to know the truth about Paradise. She vanished nearly eighteen years ago so most people don’t remember her. But I come from a long line of storytellers.”
Tella shrugged, as if unimpressed. On the inside all she could think was,
Eighteen years, eighteen years, eighteen years …
Her parents married nearly eighteen years ago. Tella knew because after her mother had first disappeared she’d searched for information about where her mother had lived before she’d married her father, but Tella had found nothing. Because Tella had been searching for a women named Paloma, but before she came to Trisda, Paloma had been the criminal Paradise the Lost. Jacks had been telling the truth about her mother’s name. Tella had always felt bitter, as if she’d been robbed, because she’d only known her mother for half of her life. But now she felt as if she’d never
really known her mother at all.
“That’s all I’ll part with for free,” Aiko said. “For the rest of her story, I’ll need something in return. And don’t worry, I won’t steal any days of your life.”
“What do you want?”
Aiko angled her head, long black hair falling to one side as she appeared to think. “Caraval is a world built of make-believe, and sometimes it’s
difficult for those of us who always live inside it to feel as if anything is real. Most of us won’t admit it, but we all crave the real.” She paused as if she were about to add something else, but then she seemed to think better of it. “All I want from you today is something real. A memory.”
“You need to be more specific. I’m curious about my mother, but I’m not going to let you take something like the memory of my name.”
“I hadn’t even considered that.” Aiko’s dark eyes gleamed. “Excellent idea. But I’ll save it for another time. Tonight I’d like the last memory you have of your mother.”
Tella recoiled, instinctively taking a sharp step back. “No. I won’t give you any memories of her.”
“Then I cannot give you any information about Paradise the Lost.” “Can’t you pick another memory?”
“You called Paradise your mother. I want to see why.” “I never called her that,” Tella argued.
“Yes you did. You said you were curious about her. And since history is my expertise, I can tell you everything you want to know. So, either you can find another expert, or you give me the last memory of your mother. I will allow you one minute to think about it.”
Tella could not give up any memories of her mother. There were too few and they were too precious. But, if the game really was about sacrifice as Armando had said, sacrificing a memory would possibly allow Tella to make future memories with her mother.
And perhaps Tella was better off without that final memory. Ever since finding those cards in her mother’s room Tella had been haunted by them, unable to stop wondering what would have happened if she’d never flipped over the card with the Prince of Hearts or the Maiden Death. Would her mother still have left if the Maiden Death had not predicted her departure? Would she have already fallen in love with someone if she’d never turned over the Prince of Hearts?
“All right,” Tella said. “You can take the last memory I have of my mother.”
“Splendid.” Aiko glided toward the work desk in the back of the shop, appearing a little too eager, which only intensified Tella’s unease as Aiko
opened her enchanted notebook to an untouched page of pristine parchment. “All you must do is place your palm atop the page. Some people actually
enjoy the process. Our memories weigh us down more than we realize.” “Don’t try to convince me you’re doing me a favor.” Tella pressed her
hand to the dry paper. It heated against her skin, similar to the sensation she experienced whenever she touched the Aracle, except this warmth went beyond her hand. It crawled up her arm to her neck, coating her like melting butter and turning her head comfortably fuzzy.
“The book needs to access the memory before it can collect it,” Aiko said. But now her voice sounded distant, like someone calling from the other end of a very long corridor.
Tella’s eyes fluttered shut and when they opened again, she was back in her mother’s enchanting suite on Trisda. Her mother was sitting on the floor across from her, clearer than she’d ever been in Tella’s memories.
She smelled of plumeria. A scent Tella thought she’d forgotten. Her father had not allowed the flowers anywhere on his estate after Tella’s mother left, and until this moment Tella had not thought of them for years. She wanted to bury herself in the scent, to wrap her arms around her mother so that she’d never forget it again. But this was only a memory, and Tella could not alter it no matter how much she wished.
Moments ago, before this memory began, her mother had made Tella promise never to touch another Deck of Destiny. That was the memory Tella had expected Aiko to thieve, but this was something different. A recollection buried so deep inside of Tella she’d forgotten it was there. She’d forgotten the way her mother had taken her hands, lifting Tella’s tiny fingers to get a better look at the opal ring Tella had just stolen.
“Oh—what’s this?” Paloma asked.
“I was going to put it back,” Tella promised.
“No, my little love, you should hold on to it for me and keep it safe.” She kissed Tella’s fingers, as if that officially made the ring hers. Her mother always sealed things with kisses; another fact Tella had misplaced.
“Now,” Paloma whispered, “I will tell you a secret about the cards I just put away. The Fates pictured on them once ruled on earth, and when they did they were very unkind and very cruel. They used to trap people in
playing cards for sport and entertainment. Only a Fate could free them …
unless…”
No. Tella fought to hold on to the memory as it began to fade before her eyes and ears. Her mother’s skin shifted from olive to translucent as her lips formed words that Tella could no longer hear. No. No. No! These were words she needed to hear. The answer she was searching for. She didn’t know what her mother was about to say, but Tella was certain that whatever she’d said next was of vital importance.
Tella clawed at the memory, tried to dig her fingers into it. But the harder Tella fought to keep it, the murkier it became, turning to smoke that couldn’t be held on to at all, and then dissipating into nothing.
When she opened her eyes Tella did not feel as if a weight had been lifted. She felt as if something had been lost. As if she’d been cut, but nothing was bleeding. And nothing seemed to be gone, either. The memory she’d expected Aiko to take was still there, and though Tella had been ready to part with it, she felt relieved it wasn’t gone.
So then why did Tella sense that Aiko had stolen something even more valuable?
