Tella woke up in a pile of cold hard snow. The icy kind that was a little gray. It crunched beneath her as she shoved herself upright.
God’s teeth, it was cold.
She wiped the snow off her arms before she hugged them to her chest. “How could I have been so naive?” Her cloak was gone, along with her coin purse and her favorite ring. “Creaking! Toy! Bastard!”
The clockwork boy had tricked her, drugged her, and robbed her. And she’d been foolish enough to let him.
Tella angrily shook the rest of the snow off her person as she stood and attempted to find her bearings.
On either side of her, crooked buildings towered over the narrow road, making it impossible to tell what time of day it was. The only light came from flickering gas lamps. Although Tella imagined it must have been later, based on the plunge in temperature.
The scent of crisp, clean Holiday trees had been replaced with damp sidewalks and the heavy aroma of foreign spices. Red cloves. White pepper. Black coriander. It was the type of pungent air that could breathe a person in rather than the other way around.
Tella coughed as a passerby in a garish purple coat blew out a cloud of smoke from her cigar.
There were no carolers here, nor any laughing children, and not a single candy cane. But there were lots of gaudy walking sticks, exposed corsets, and unnerving storefront signs.
With a sinking feeling, Tella knew exactly where she was: Valenda’s newest Spice Quarter*, where anything and everything could be purchased
—for a price. Though usually the items sold here were of a darker nature: contacts for assassins, recipes for poisons, people. Then there were the gambling pits, the drug dens, and the brothels. None of which was legal in Valenda.
If Scarlett ever found out about any of this, she would probably permanently shackle Tella to one of her guards.
Tella needed to get out of here. “Don’t be nervous,” said a girl.
Tella froze, but the voice was not directed at her. It sounded as if it were coming from just around the corner.
“I know you want to do this,” replied another, younger-sounding girl, “but I’m not sure—”
“It’s just an audition,” said the first girl. “There’s nothing dangerous about it. Although I also don’t really believe half the horror stories about Caraval.”
Tella’s attention sharpened at the word Caraval.
She quickly looked around the corner and discovered a pair of girls about her age. Their cheeks were pink, and their hair was curled and done up with ribbons. Their red coats were neatly pressed, and their white patent leather shoes looked freshly shined. They didn’t fit into the Spice Quarter at all, but they did look as if they were trying to fit into Caraval.
Tella felt something uncomfortable twist inside her. Legend hadn’t told her he was holding auditions for Caraval. He had told her he had work outside the city.
Why would he have lied to her?
Somewhere in the distance, a church bell struck nine times. It was definitely late.
But Tella wasn’t ready to return to the palace. Not yet. Not until she’d solved this mystery.
There didn’t appear to be royal guards, or anyone else, on the street at the moment.
And thus, no one saw Donatella as she followed the girls in the pretty red coats to find out exactly where these Caraval tryouts were allegedly being held.
The girls stopped at a narrow shop called the Green Bottle. Tella waited to approach until they had both stepped inside.
Her breath came out in fragile white streams as she took in the shabby storefront. The sign was crooked. It swayed from a lone nail that made Tella think it might fall at any moment and shatter into bits of broken letters. It
was wood, but its green paint was streaked with glasslike cracks, and the word bottle was missing one of its Ts.
This didn’t feel right.
This didn’t feel like Legend.
Legend could be sinister, but he was never shabby.
She cautiously stepped into the Green Bottle, hoping her instincts were right, that this wasn’t Legend, and that perhaps the girls she had followed had been deceived.
The shop was small and just as ramshackle on the inside as it had looked from the outside. The shelves were half-empty, and the bottles that were on them were covered in dust—and most weren’t even green, all but one was just ordinary glass.
This definitely wasn’t Legend. Except …
The girls she’d followed inside had vanished.
It was a tiny shop, more like an entryway than a proper shop, but there were no girls, and there was no back door or side door that Tella could see. And for a second Tella wondered if maybe she was wrong. Maybe she just didn’t want to accept that Legend had lied to her.
There was only one other person inside of the shop: an old lady with eyes lined in too much kohl and cheeks covered in dark rouge. The woman looked Tella over dismissively, unimpressed by her damp and disheveled state. “Are you here for the audition as well?”
“Of course,” Tella said. “I was just wondering—”
“No time for questions, girl, you’re late.” The woman reached toward a shelf and pulled on the lone green bottle. At the same moment a trapdoor opened, and before Tella could even curse—the floor disappeared beneath her.
Tella fell.
It was a short fall, but long enough to knock the air from her lungs and leave her gasping as she landed onto a heap of scratchy pillows.
“God’s teeth.” Tella shook the hair from her face and looked up to see a tall young man with a short black beard.
He greeted her with a grunt that sounded like, “Get up and get moving.”
As soon as she was on her feet, he handed her a pair of strappy heeled shoes and a pile of something feathery.
Tella eyed the feathers narrowly. “What’s this for?” “That’s your costume.”
Tella gingerly examined the pile. Underneath the bright red feathers was a lurid green velvet corset with gold ribbons lacing the front of it, and a shimmery scrap of silky red fabric that had two tiny straps and a very short, very frilly little skirt.
The horrid costume sparkled with glitter, but not with magic. This was definitely not Legend.
Nothing about this situation, or place, or costume felt like Legend.
Tella might have wondered if this was the doing of the clockwork boy and his windup friends. But the bearded young man did not creak with any clockwork as he led her down a sloping hallway.
“Actually,” Tella said, “I’d just like to speak to the man holding the auditions.”
“So does every other girl here. But if you want to talk to him, you’ll have to get through an audition first.”
The young man finally stopped at the end of a poorly lit hall and opened a door to a long rectangle of a room with peeling red wallpaper, heavy
perfume, and girls all working to put on assorted green and red costumes.
“You have two minutes!” the man shouted. “Then I’ll take you bunch out onto the stage.” He shut the door, and Tella swore she heard him turn the lock with a grinding click.
She took another look at the red-and-green monstrosity in her hands. Whatever this audition was for, it was not for the real Caraval. Tella was certain.
Legend was exquisite red velvet curtains and finely tailored clothes, not peeling green wallpaper and cheap costumes.
She might have felt relieved he hadn’t lied to her. Except now she was locked in this room with a bunch of hapless girls who looked just as young and innocent as the ones she’d followed in here.
Why were they all here instead of outside, basking in Holiday magic?
How had the imposter Legend lured them in?
Tella had felt irritated curiosity before, but now she felt determined to figure out what was truly going on and who exactly was behind this.
A shorter girl approached Tella. “Oh, darling, do you need help getting dressed?” She had a friendly face, red feathers in her hair, and an awful green costume. It had a lot more fabric than the costume in Tella’s hands, but it looked more like a discarded curtain than a gown.
“I’m Yasmine,” the girl said. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like the Fate Slayer?”
“No, but thank you. I’ve heard she’s quite beautiful,” Tella said, and then quickly she tried to think of a name. “I’m Daniella. It’s lovely to meet you. But I think I’ve made an error. I’m not sure I’m in the correct place.”
“If you’re here for the Caraval audition, then you’ve found the right spot. Though if you want to be chosen, you’re going to need to put that costume on fast.” Yasmine cringed. “Looks as if they gave you the leftovers.”
“I think I was the last to arrive.” Tella tried to sound cheerful as she took off her sodden gown and wriggled into the tiny red slip. The fabric was surprisingly silky against her skin, but that was the only thing good about it. The top of the slip was too tight and the frilly little skirt was far too short. It barely covered anything, which Tella might not have minded,
except this felt like the sort of seedy place that made her want to cover everything so that none of the cheapness and grime clung to her.
Tella imagined all she had to do was say the words I am actually the Fate-Slaying Princess and she could get out of the room.
But if she did that, she doubted she would ever find out who was behind all of this.
And she wanted to find out. She needed to find out. Caraval was Legend’s life. Caraval was the reason he wasn’t with her now. If there was an imposter Legend holding fake Caraval tryouts and trying to steal his identity, Legend would want to know about it.
But Tella wanted to do better. She wanted to figure out who this imposter was so that she could tell Legend what was going on and who exactly was behind it.
That could be the perfect Holiday gift.
“Oh, the feathers aren’t to cover you up down there, they’re for your hair.” Yasmine pointed to her own thick pile of dark hair.
A couple of the other girls snickered as Tella removed the red feathers from her backside and then shoved them into her curls after quickly pinning them into a messy knot at the top of her head.
“Don’t look so nervous, you look smashing now!” Yasmine said. “With your golden curls and your pretty face, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble catching Legend’s attention.”
“But don’t get your hopes up,” another girl interjected. “I’ve heard no one gets a look at his face. Though they do say when you’re on the stage you can feel his magic, like champagne bubbles coating your skin.” The girl rubbed her arms as her eyelashes fluttered coquettishly.
Tella felt a sharp prickle of jealousy. She reminded herself that this girl wasn’t talking about the real Legend. But Tella was the only one who knew this, based on all the other girls’ dreamy expressions.
“We just need to tighten your corset a little more,” said Yasmine.
Thankfully the young man with the black beard arrived before that particular torture could take place.
“Move in a single file, but not too close together,” he ordered, speaking with the bored disinterest of a boy who’d repeated the same thing many
times.
Again, Tella wondered what exactly this imposter Legend was after. What did he want with all these girls? Was he trying to hurt Legend? Or was he trying to gain something for himself?
Tella and the other girls followed the bearded young man out of the dressing room, back into the poorly lit hall, and then down another narrow hall, until they reached what looked like the back of a stage.
The floors were scuffed wood with a greenish tint. There did appear to be a slightly shimmering gold symbol of Caraval—a sun with a star inside and a teardrop inside the star—but the image was cut off by a heavy red velvet curtain that fell from the ceiling to the floor.
“You’ll walk through the curtain onto the stage one at a time. Once you’re on the other side, do not speak. You stand there, until you’re either asked to leave or you’re asked for more.”
“What kind of more?” asked one girl breathlessly. “Whatever more that Master Legend wants.”
A couple girls giggled at the mention of Legend’s name.
“I’ve heard if he really fancies someone, he asks for a private audience,” another girl whispered in a scandalous tone.
curtain.
Several girls tittered and the conversation took a turn that Tella wished it hadn’t.
Heat traveled up her neck as she listened to speculation as to what happened in these private chambers.
They’re just silly girls in silly costumes, repeating silly rumors about a fake Legend, Tella told herself. The real Legend isn’t here.
And yet Tella had to fight the urge to rip the red feathers from the hair of every girl here.
Minutes ticked by slowly as one by one, the girls went through the red
Somewhere outside, a church bell clanged ten bells.
Time had passed more quickly than Tella realized, but she knew her sister well. Scarlett would be nervous, but she wouldn’t start properly worrying until it was after midnight. That gave Tella two more hours to find the imposter Legend and then get back to the palace.
“You need to start smiling,” Yasmine hissed. “You’re about to go out there.”
Yasmine slipped through the curtain then.
And Tella was alone. The final girl to audition.
Her heartbeat quickened. Beads of sweat ran down the back of her neck. She couldn’t see the stage on the other side of the dark red curtain, but she could hear the click of Yasmine’s heels and a muted male voice telling her to turn around so he could see her backside.
Tella’s cheeks burned with a fresh surge of anger.
Not the real Legend. Not the real Legend, she repeated to herself. “You’re up,” the young man with the beard grunted.
Tella gritted her teeth, she took an uneven breath, and then she stepped through a crack in the curtain.
