Tella could feel the black earth beneath her hands and knees, but she didn’t know if it was dry or damp or prickly with grass and twigs. And she didn’t know how long she’d stayed there, unable to move. All she knew was that she needed to get up. She needed to keep moving, she needed to keep running, as Legend had begged her to with his last words.
A dry sob shook her chest as she tried to rise.
Legend wasn’t dead forever. This wasn’t like what had happened to her mother, who Tella would never see again. He would come back to life. But for now, he was gone.
She looked back at the wreckage that minutes ago had been the maze, but he didn’t emerge from the smoke.
Bedlam reigned where hours ago there had been magic and butterflies. She could hear the sound of people escaping, clumsy footsteps and heavy breathing, from those not used to running.
Tella struggled to her feet. She knew she needed to run away. Legend had asked her to flee with his last words. But what would happen to his body if she left? What if the Fates had figured out that he was Legend? What if they took his body, so that when he came back to life they could kill him over and over?
Tella ran back toward the melee.
“Leave the city!” she warned anyone she saw. “Get out of here!” She didn’t know if there were more than two Fates nearby, but if they’d come to kill Elantine’s heir, they weren’t afraid of discovery. And they’d likely take over the palace next. Unlike the grounds outside, it was still bright and glowing, untouched by violence. For now. When the Fates took over the
palace and then the Empire, the fountains would probably be filled with blood.
A rigid hand latched on to Tella’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”
She tensed, bracing for a fight, even as she recognized the voice; low and resonant with a lilting accent that was just the tiniest bit shaky: Julian.
It was difficult to see his face in the dark. But the alarming way his fingers dug into her shoulder gave away enough. He already knew what had happened.
“We need to go back into the maze to get his body,” she said. “Tella.” Julian squeezed her shoulder. “My brother is dead.”
“But he’ll come back to life … right?” She tried to shake off Julian’s hand, or maybe she was just shaking.
“He’s immortal—he’ll come back.”
“Why don’t you sound more certain about that?”
“Because I’m trying to save your life right now. He made me swear that if anything like this happened to him, I would get you to safety.”
Julian released Tella’s shoulder, grabbed her arm, and pulled her in the opposite direction of the palace.
“Wait—wait—” Tella panted. “What about Scarlett?”
“She’s not here.” Julian tugged harder on Tella’s hand, forcing her through clouds of smoke. “When she didn’t show up to meet me at the maze, I went to find her … but she’s not at the palace.”
“Where is she?” “With the count.”
“But—but—” Tella sputtered. “Scarlett told me she was calling the game off.”
“I wish she had,” Julian grunted, his words choppy as he urged her to sprint faster. “When I went in her rooms, I found a note from the count asking to see her again today.”
“Where does he live?” Tella asked.
“On the outskirts of the city—past the ruins south of the Temple District.” “Then that’s where we go,” she said.
There was a pause, full of nothing but heavy breathing, where Julian might have argued that he was supposed to get Tella to safety and then he would look for Scarlett on his own. But it seemed his love for her sister outweighed the promise he’d made to Legend, or Julian knew there was no point in fighting with Tella. This was why Tella had always liked Julian. He never gave up on Scarlett.
They fled swiftly across the darkened city together, but they didn’t move faster than the rumors:
“Prince Dante is dead—crushed to death by his maze.” “The former heir came back and murdered Prince Dante.” “Prince Dante was killed by someone in the maze.”
“Invaders have taken over the city and beheaded Prince Dante.”
Some of the claims were closer to the truth than others, but all of them had one thing in common: Legend was dead.
Her steps faltered, but she didn’t stop. If anything, she ran harder. The Fates had won another round. But once Tella found her sister, and Legend came back to life, they’d all visit the Vanished Market. There they’d find a way to destroy the Fallen Star, and then they’d be able to stop the other Fates, as well.
There were holes in her slippers by the time she and Julian passed the edge of the city at dawn. It was a brilliantly bloody sunrise, as if someone had sliced opened the clouds and hazy streams of red had poured out instead of rain. On another morning it might have looked wrong, but on this particular day it felt appropriate that even the sky appeared violent.
A dusty stretch of dry, yellowing grassland rested between the city and the count’s estate. The sad bark of a dog was the only sound, save for the tired trudge of Tella’s and Julian’s footsteps.
Tella tried to catch her breath, now that their pace had slowed. She inhaled deeply, but the air tasted unclean, like the foulest parts of the city rather than a fresh slice of country. The stench grew stronger and the sad howling of the dog grew louder as they approached the count’s estate.
Tella hugged her arms to her chest, and Julian walked closer to her side.
The count’s residence looked like the beginning of a fairy tale, before the magic had arrived. The gardens were full of curious, well-tended flowers that appeared to have been planted with care. But the house itself was covered in chipping paint, the windows clean but full of cracks, and the crumbling chimneys appeared to be in severe need of repair. Even the long path they followed to the house was covered in fractures.
“I thought the count’s residence was fancier,” Tella said. “Scarlett described it as being much nicer.”
“I don’t think she saw it for what it really was the other day. I think she was too concerned about meeting the count. And it didn’t smell this bad.” Julian put a hand over his nose and mouth.
Tella did the same, fresh nerves clawing at her stomach. The stench was so
putrid she dry-heaved as they reached the front door. It was cracked open, oozing more of the wretched odor.
The dog barked again, long and keening.
Tella halted as the door creaked all the way open and an awful incessant buzzing joined the unseen dog’s anguished cries.
She didn’t remember entering, but she would regret stepping inside for the rest of her life. No servants greeted them, or warned them away. There was only the endless howling of the dog, the buzzing of the flies, and Tella’s silent prayers.
Do not let my sister be dead. Do not let my sister be dead.
Because someone was certainly dead. The morbid stench grew worse as she and Julian finally passed the entry and reached the open library.
Tella swayed on her feet as she saw the count’s body. Or she thought it was the count’s body. He was in the second-floor library, sitting in a great chair behind his desk, and he looked as if the skin had been burned off his body.
The dog beside him howled again and shook its sad face, trying to ward off the maggots and flies from feasting on the count’s remains.
Tella tried to look away from the charred corpse; she’d seen enough death that week. She didn’t need to look it in the eyes again. She’d never seen a body flayed with fire—and she wished she wasn’t seeing it now. But she couldn’t turn away from the macabre scene before her. It shouldn’t have been possible. If the count had been burned alive, then other parts of his library should have caught fire. But it was as if someone had instructed the flames to only burn his skin.
Tella staggered back a step as something Jacks had said returned to her. “At least he stabbed her instead of burning her to death with his powers.…
Fire’s the most painful way to die.”
“I think I know who did this,” Tella said. “I think the Fallen Star was here to find Scarlett.”
Julian turned entirely gray. “Why would he want Crimson?”
“Because of our mother. Before he killed her, the Fallen Star said that she’d forced him back inside the cursed Deck of Destiny; he must have been free once before, and our mother imprisoned him again. It probably wasn’t enough for him just to kill her—now he’s coming after her daughters.”
Which would also explain why their apartment had been ransacked.
Tella hoped she was wrong. She couldn’t lose her sister the same way she’d lost her mother. But she couldn’t imagine who else had done this, or
why anyone else would do this. She’d never liked Nicolas, but the fact that he’d clearly been tortured to death made her think that he hadn’t given up her sister—or at least not easily.
Scarlett might have managed to get away. All the servants seemed to have escaped so maybe they’d taken her sister with them. Or maybe she’d managed to hide and they just needed to find her.
Julian tried to pull the dog from the room as they went to hunt for Scarlett. But the animal wouldn’t leave; it continued to howl and guard its dead master as Tella and Julian scoured every tainted inch of the estate for Scarlett.
“Crimson!” Julian shouted, and Tella would have sworn his eyes were glassy. He wasn’t crying, but he was close. “Crimson!”
“Scarlett!” Tella called at the same time, repeating the name until her throat went raw. Her vision dulled around the edges as she combed through closets and cellars and dusty rooms full of cloth-covered furniture. By the time she and Julian completed searching, Tella’s legs were shaking, she was covered in damp, and she’d found no signs that Scarlett had even been there.
Julian was a sweaty mess as well. Hair clung to his forehead and his shirt stuck to his chest as they stumbled away from the house and into the empty stables. It was the sole place on the estate that did not reek of dying.
But Tella didn’t want to rest there. She didn’t want to curl up in the hay and eat the food Julian had stolen from the kitchen. She didn’t want to rehash any horrors, or sit in silence while her worst fears came true. She’d already lost her mother and Legend. She couldn’t lose her sister.
Her chest went tight, and for a desperate moment Tella wished Jacks was there to take away the pain.
