“Let me go!” Cold swirled around the back of the stage as Tella kicked her legs in an effort to break free. “You have me mistaken for someone else—”
Her plea was cut off as a gag was tied over her mouth. She continued to struggle and reminded herself that she’d been in worse positions than this. She’d once died. It had not been a very long death. But it was still death, and she’d come back from it. She’d get out of this as well.
If all these thugs wanted was ransom, then her sister would willingly pay it.
But Tella really didn’t want her sister to find out about this. She would much rather escape on her own, without the involvement of Scarlett, or Legend, and preferably without any scandal sheets finding out about her slightly reckless behavior today.
She didn’t want to ruin her sister’s Holiday, or to be shackled to palace guards for the rest of her life.
And she really didn’t want to be rescued by Legend. Well—a part of her did.
Legend was quite dashing when he was angry, and she could picture him bursting in like a storm to save her, and then lifting her into his strong arms, holding her close as he carried her out into the snow.
But then her newest nemesis—fear—crept back in. Tella imagined that right after saving her, Legend might still be angry and he might also convince himself that her kidnapping was another reason immortality was
more important than love. Immortality meant you could always protect the people you cared about, even if it also meant you would care about them a little less because you could never quite love them.
Tella couldn’t let that happen.
She couldn’t risk Legend falling out of love with her. Which meant
merely escaping wasn’t enough. She needed to follow through with her original plan. She needed to figure out who was behind this and then turn the imposter in to Legend. This no longer felt like just a Holiday gift. This felt like something she desperately needed to do. She couldn’t let someone ruin Legend’s name, or what he’d built,
or the magic of Caraval.
Tella forced herself to stop struggling. Instead, she tried to pay
attention as the men ushered her down a hallway. It was difficult with the blindfold. Tella couldn’t see a thing. But now that she was walking instead of kicking violently, she could feel a difference in the floor. The wood had changed to soft plush carpet. She could feel her tiny heels sinking into it with every step.
The air had changed as well. It was cooler and smelled of sweet cloves and cinnamon spice.
She heard a door handle turn, and then a second later, the man who’d been handling her changed his grip. He dropped her arm, pressed a hand against her back, and shoved her forward.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Tella tried to call for help but the gag in her mouth allowed for only a few pathetic noises. The ropes at her wrists were too tight to slip out of. But perhaps she could wriggle out of the blindfold?
Tella put her back to the door and arched against it, rubbing her head up along the wood in an effort to dislodge the blindfold. She imagined that she looked a bit like a cat as she rolled her shoulders back.
A low laugh moved through the chamber, cool and dark, and Tella immediately recognized the intoxicating sound of it.
Every inch of her tingled from the magic, dark dangerous magic that felt like candlelight dancing over her skin, ready to singe her if it lingered too long.
Tella froze against the door, back arched, head tilted back, breathing suddenly ragged.
Moments ago, the door at her back had felt cool. But suddenly she felt hot all over.
Her cheeks flushed as she imagined what she must have looked like to her captor, trussed up with rope and dressed in shimmering scraps of red and green.
They’d delivered her to him like a Holiday present.
