After how he’d helped her that day, Scarlett had to admit he wasn’t quite the scoundrel he seemed, but she also doubted he was the simple sailor he appeared. He eyed the gate suspiciously, the set of his shoulders tense, the lines of his back rigidly straight. All of the laziness she’d witnessed on the boat had vanished; Julian was now a boxed coil, tightly wound as if preparing for some sort of fight.
“I think we should go farther down and look for a gate,” he said.
“But see that flag?” Scarlett said. “This has to be where we get in.”
“No, I think it’s farther down. Trust me.”
She didn’t, but after her last blunder, she also didn’t trust herself. And she didn’t want to be left alone again. About twenty yards down they found another flag.
“This looks exactly like where we were before—”
“Welcome!” A dark-skinned girl on a unicycle pedaled out from behind the banner, cutting Scarlett off. “You’re here just in time.” The girl paused, and one by one, glass lanterns hanging from the tips of the gate lit up with flames. Brilliant gold-blue sparks—the color of childhood dreams, thought Scarlett.
“I always love it when that happens.” The girl on the unicycle clapped. “Now, before I can let either of you fine people through, I need to see your tickets.”
Tickets. Scarlett had forgotten all about the tickets. “Ah—”
“Don’t worry, love, I have them.” Julian placed an arm around Scarlett, tucking her unexpectedly close. And had he called her “love”?
“Go along with it, please,” he whispered in her ear as he reached into his pocket and retrieved two slips of paper, both a little wilted and wrinkled from their dip in the ocean.
Scarlett held back from saying anything as her name appeared on the first. Then the unicyclist held the other note up to one of the gate’s candlelit lanterns.
“That’s unusual. We don’t normally see tickets without names.”
“Is there a problem?” Scarlett asked, suddenly uneasy.
The unicyclist looked down at Julian, and for the first time her bright demeanor faded.
Scarlett was about to explain how she’d received the tickets, but Julian broke in first, his arm pressing harder against her shoulders in what felt like a warning. “Caraval Master Legend sent it. The two of us are getting married. He gifted the tickets to my fiancée, Scarlett.”
“Oh!” The cyclist clapped again. “I know all about the two of you! Master Legend’s special guests.” She looked at Scarlett more closely. “I should have recognized your name. I’m sorry. So many names, sometimes I forget mine.” She laughed at her own joke.
Scarlett tried to muster a chuckle as well, but all she could think about was the arm wrapped around her and Julian’s use of the word fiancée.
“You’ll want to make sure you hold on to these.” The unicyclist reached through the gate, passing the tickets back to Julian, and for a moment her eyes fastened on him as if there was something else she wanted to say. Then she seemed to think better of it. Breaking her gaze, she reached into the pocket of her patchwork vest and pulled out a scroll of black paper. “Now, before I can let you two in, there’s one more thing.” She quickened the pace of her pedaling, kicking up milky slivers of snow from the ground.
“This will be repeated again once you’re inside. Master Legend likes everyone to hear it twice.”
She cleared her throat and peddled even faster. “Welcome, welcome to Caraval! The grandest show on land or by sea. Inside you’ll experience more wonders than most people see in a lifetime. You can sip magic from a cup and buy dreams in a bottle. But before you fully enter into our world, you must remember it’s all a game. What happens beyond this gate may frighten or excite you, but don’t let any of it trick you. We will try to convince you it’s real, but all of it is a performance. A world built of make-believe. So while we want you to get swept away, be careful of being swept too far away. Dreams that come true can be beautiful, but they can also turn into nightmares when people won’t wake up.”
She paused, pedaling her cycle faster and faster until the spokes of the wheel seemed to disappear, vanishing in front of Scarlett’s eyes as the wrought-iron gate parted.
“If you’re here to play the game, you’ll want to take this path.” A curving lane to the girl’s left lit up with puddles of burning silver wax that made the way glitter against the dark. “If you’re here to watch …” She nodded right, and a sudden breeze swayed hanging paper lanterns to life, casting a pumpkin-orange glow above a sloping trail.
Julian dipped his head closer to Scarlett. “Don’t tell me you’re considering just watching.”
“Of course not,” Scarlett said, but she hesitated before taking a step in the other direction. She observed the candles flickering against the full night, the shadows hiding behind the darkened trees and flower bushes that lined the sparkling route into the game.
I’m only staying for a day, she reminded herself.
The sky was black, the moon visiting some other part of the world, as Scarlett took her first step into Caraval. Only a few rebel stars held posts above, watching as she and Julian crossed the threshold of the wrought-iron gate, into a realm that for some would only ever exist in wild stories.
While the rest of the universe had gone suddenly dark, the grand house blazed with light. Every window shimmered with buttery illumination, turning the flower boxes below into cradles full of stardust. The citrus scent from before was gone. Now the air was syrupy and thick, still much sweeter than the air on Trisda, yet Scarlett only tasted bitter.