She’d first written after her mother, Paloma, had abandoned them. She’d wanted to give Tella a happy birthday. Her sister had been the most devastated when their mother left. Scarlett had tried to make up for Paloma’s absence. But Scarlett was young, and Tella wasn’t the only one who desperately missed their mother.

It would have been easier to let her go if she’d at least said good-bye, written a note, or left a tiny hint as to where or why she’d gone. But Paloma had simply vanished, taking nothing with her. She’d disappeared like a broken star, leaving the world untouched, save for the bits of missing light that no one would ever see again.

Scarlett might have wondered if her father had harmed her mother, but he’d gone rabid once Paloma had left him. Torn up the entire estate looking for her. Had his guards raid the towns under the guise of searching for a criminal, since he’d not wanted anyone to discover his wife had run away. If she’d been kidnapped, there were no signs of struggle, and no ransom note ever arrived. It seemed she’d chosen to leave, which made it all the worse.

Yet despite everything, Scarlett always thought of her mother as a magical person, full of glittering smiles, musical laughter, and dulcet words; when she’d been on Trisda there’d been joy in Scarlett’s world, and her father had been softer. Governor Dragna had not been violent toward his family before Paloma had left him.

Scarlett’s nana had taken more of an interest in the girls after that. She wasn’t particularly warm. Scarlett always suspected she didn’t actually like small children, but she told exquisite stories. She enchanted both Tella and Scarlett with her tales of Caraval. She said it was a place where magic lived, and Scarlett fell in love with the idea of it, daring to believe that if Legend and his players came to the isle of Trisda, they would return some of the joy to her life, at least for a handful of days.

Momentarily, Scarlett entertained the idea of experiencing not only a little happiness, but magic. She thought of what it would be like to enjoy Caraval just for a day, to explore Legend’s private isle, before closing the door on her fantasies completely.

There was one week until Scarlett’s wedding. This was not the time to embark on a foolhardy adventure. Tella had plundered Scarlett’s room, and Julian said she’d also left a ransom note, but Scarlett’s father would eventually figure out it was all a hoax. Staying here was the worst idea possible.

But if Scarlett and Tella stayed only for the first day of Caraval, they could make it back in time for Scarlett’s wedding. Scarlett doubted her father would figure out the truth about where they’d been that soon. They’d be safe, as long as she and Tella remained for only the first twenty-four hours, and their father never found out where they’d really been.

“Time’s almost up, Crimson.”

The cloud encasing them thinned, and the rim of the isle came into view. Scarlett saw sand so fluffy and white, from the distance, it looked like icing on a cake. She could almost picture Tella running her fingers along it—and coaxing Scarlett to join her—to see if the sand tasted as sugary as it looked.

“If I go with you, do you promise there will be no more kidnapping attempts if I try to return to Trisda with Tella tomorrow?”

Julian put a hand to his heart. “On my honor.”

Scarlett wasn’t sure she believed Julian had much honor. But once they all made it inside Caraval, he’d probably abandon them anyway.

“You can start your rowing back up again. Just be careful with the splashing.”

The corner of Julian’s lips curved as he dipped his oars back in the water, this time soaking Scarlett’s slippers with cold.

“I told you to stop splashing me.”

“That wasn’t me.” Julian rowed again, more carefully this time, but water still soaked her feet. It was colder than even Trisda’s crisp coast.

“I think there’s a hole in the boat.”

Julian cursed as water moved up to their ankles. “You know how to swim?”

“I live on an island. Of course I know how to swim.”

Julian shucked his coat and tossed it over the side of the boat. “If you take off your clothes it will be easier. You’re wearing some sort of undergarment, right?”

“Are you sure we can’t just row to shore?” Scarlett argued. Although cold drenched her feet, her hands were sweating. Isla de los Sueños appeared to be about one hundred yards away; it was farther than she’d ever swum.

“We can give it a go, but this boat is not going to make it.” Julian removed his boots. “We’re better off using the time we have to undress. The water’s cold; it’ll be impossible to make it fully clothed.”

Scarlett scanned the cloud-covered water for another sign of a boat or raft. “But what will we wear when we’re on the island?”

“I think we just need to worry about making it to the island. And by ‘we,’ I mean you.” Julian unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a row of brown muscles that made it clear he’d have no problems in the water.

Then without another word, he dove into the ocean.

He didn’t look back. His strong arms cut through the icy current with ease, while arctic water rose around Scarlett until the bottom half of her dress floated about her calves. She attempted to row, but only succeeded in sinking the boat deeper.

She had no choice but to jump.

The air rushed out of her lungs, something cold and unbreathable taking its place. All she could see was the color white. Everything was white. Even the tones of the water had shifted from swirls of pink and turquoise to frightening shades of icy white. Scarlett bobbed her head to the surface, gasping for air that seared as it went down.