Julian Santos loved the Great Holiday. What wasn’t to love? Everywhere he went, people were either abnormally cheerful or tipsy; kissing was one of the traditional ways to celebrate; and Julian looked outrageously good in green.
His brother was missing out by always acting like a lump of coal. Every year it was like this. Legend always said he didn’t like the Great Holiday. But Julian suspected that his older brother was actually just jealous of Holiday magic and the way it made people feel.
Caraval had never before taken place around the Great Holiday, and Julian had always suspected that it was because Legend feared that the magic of the Holiday rivaled his own.
Legend grimaced as he watched a group of children build a snowman outside the window and then place a top hat on its round head.
“Are you upset because it doesn’t look like you? Because I think it kind of does.”
Legend scowled. “I’m not upset about a snowman.” “Then what are you upset about?” Julian asked.
When Julian had returned to his royal suite to change for dinner, he’d found Legend there, sitting on a chair in a corner, drumming his fingers and brooding. Legend brooded a lot. But usually he did so in front of an audience, where he could get attention, as if he were hoping to someday garner an award.
“I’m not upset,” Legend grumbled.
“Then why are you skulking about in here?” Julian asked. “I thought you had somewhere to be. Or…” Julian placed two fingers on his chin and
made a show of thinking. “Are you, the Great Caraval Master Legend, nervous?”
Legend pierced him with a glare that would have scared a small child.
“I’m just saying you look nervous,” Julian needled.
“And you look like an elf.”
“Well, it’s better than…” Julian trailed off as he looked over Legend’s black suit with a scowl.
“What is it now?” Legend asked darkly.
“Nothing.” Julian shrugged. “It’s just … it’s Great Holiday Eve Eve and you sort of look like you’re attending a funeral.”
“I’m not going to dress like an elf.”
“Good, because you would look ridiculous. Secondly, I’m not dressed like an elf. I’m just wearing green and I happen to look absurdly good in green. Your mind only goes to elves because elves are magical, and for once, I happen to be the more magical brother.”
“Only in Scarlett’s opinion,” Legend muttered.
“Her opinion is the only one that matters to me. You know, you should actually write those words down. Maybe tattoo it on your chest, or better yet, the back of your hand.”
Legend groaned. “I’m leaving.”
He shoved up from the chair and stalked all the way to the door. “Good luck!” Julian called. “I think you’re about to need it.”
