Finale (Caraval #3)(12)
“I won’t ever move on, Crimson.” He took her hand and brought it to his heart.
Scarlett’s heart beat wild and uneven in response, but Julian’s remained steady and unwavering beneath her palm.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I gave you space, because I thought that’s what you needed. But I realized as soon as I saw you today that I was wrong. So I’m in this carriage with you now, ready to go wherever you’re going, even if it means watching you with another man.”
Scarlett crashed back to reality. For a moment she’d forgotten about Nicolas.
“What if I don’t want you to watch me with another man?” she said.
“I’m not thrilled about the idea, either.” Julian’s tone turned teasing, but his fingers tensed as the carriage rattled over a bumpy road. They were nearing the edge of the city, and drawing closer to Nicolas’s estate.
“If you really want me to leave, I’ll get out of this coach and walk back to the palace,” Julian said. “But you should know that I’m also here because I don’t trust this count.”
“Do you trust me?” Scarlett said.
“With my life. But I’ve met your father and I have a difficult time putting faith in anyone who would make a deal with him.”
“Nicolas isn’t like that.”
When Scarlett had first written Nicolas after learning she’d not truly met him during Caraval, he had been away from the continent mourning her. Her father had lied and said Scarlett and her sister had both died in an accident. He had no idea what a horrible man Marcello Dragna was.
And Nicolas was nothing like her father. He was drawings of plants, and anecdotes about his dog, Timber. He was a rule-follower like her; he believed in tradition so much he’d waited until today to meet her. Nicolas was safe. Scarlett couldn’t see him breaking her heart. Julian had already broken her heart twice, and even if Julian didn’t intentionally do it again, her heart would break for him eventually.
When Scarlett had first written Nicolas she’d only wanted to meet him, to cure her curiosity. Then Julian had left for so long, and Nicolas’s letters had been there when Julian hadn’t. Steady when Julian had been unreliable.
As a part of Caraval, Julian was ageless. He could die and stay dead if someone killed him when a game wasn’t in play, but he would never grow old as long as he was one of Legend’s performers. Scarlett could never ask him to give that up.
She didn’t know if Legend would still hold the games now that he was to become emperor. But given how Julian had just disappeared for weeks, it was clear Legend still controlled him. Any future Scarlett and Julian might have together was destined not to last. And yet even knowing all of this, she couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand away from his.
“I don’t want you to walk back to the palace,” she said. “But if you ruin this, I swear on the stars, I will never speak to you again. The count has to believe you’re a chaperone. We can tell him that you’re my cousin.”
“That’s not going to work unless you’re fine with him believing you have an inappropriate relationship with your cousin.” Julian darted closer and pressed a quick kiss to her neck.
Scarlett felt her cheeks go red. “Don’t you dare do anything like that!”
He lounged back, laughing hard enough to shake the carriage. “I was only kidding, Crimson, although now I’m tempted to follow through.”
8
Scarlett
Sweat beaded between Scarlett’s toes as a servant led her down a hall covered in detailed wainscoting and thick crown molding.
There might have been some cracks in the molding, which gave her a hint of pause. Nicolas had never said it, but at one point, she’d imagined that he’d only wanted to marry her because of her father’s wealth. But she wasn’t connected to her father anymore. If Nicolas ever chose to propose, it would be because of her.
Now the palms of her hands were sweating even more than her toes. She wanted to wipe the damp on her gown, but it would be worse to have obvious streaks marring the deep pink fabric.
Scarlett took several shallow breaths, trying to calm herself as the servant opened the door to a sprawling garden covered in glass. “His Lordship will meet you in here.”
Sprightly hummingbirds zipped from plant to plant, mirroring the state of Scarlett’s chaotic stomach as she stepped through the doorway. Everything smelled of pollen and flowers and budding romance.
Nicolas had recently drawn her a bouquet of hybrid flowers and told her that he enjoyed experimenting in the garden. She’d thought he’d written it to sound impressive, but clearly someone played with the plants in here. There were clusters of white Valendan faisies with velvet-blue vines, silver spider lilies that shined under the light, and yellow stems of sunflowers with jade-green petals.
Not too far from the door rested a copper table set with a bouquet of bright pink peonies, a pitcher of minted lemonade, sandwiches of seeded bread, and tiny tarts covered in white plums. Enough to be thoughtful without going over the top.
Julian eyed the little feast suspiciously, as if the lemonade was poisonous and the sandwiches hid razor blades. “It’s not too late to leave.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.” Scarlett perched on the edge of a large copper chair. “But you’re free to go whenever you wish.”