Jovan continued chattering, but her words were lost as Scarlett spied what seemed to be a commotion on the corner of one street. It looked as if a woman was being dragged out from a shop, forcibly. Scarlett heard a cry, then all she could see was a cluster of people pulling at the woman, made of thrashing arms and kicking legs.

“What’s going on over there?” Scarlett pointed. But by the time Jovan and Julian looked, someone on the street had snuffed out all the nearby lanterns, concealing whatever Scarlett had witnessed in a curtain made of night.

“What did you see?” Julian asked.

“There was a woman, in a dove-gray dress, and she was being dragged out of a shop.”

“Oh, that was probably just a street show,” Jovan said merrily. “Sometimes performers do that to spice things up for the folks who are just observing—probably made it seem as if she’d stolen something or was going mad. I’m sure you’ll see more like that as the game goes on.”

Scarlett almost whispered to Julian that it looked very real, but hadn’t she been warned about that when she’d first entered the game?

Jovan clapped again as she stopped rowing. “Now here we are. The palace on the card. Otherwise known as Castillo Maldito.”

For a moment Scarlett forgot about the woman. Lines of gleaming sand stretched up into a palace shaped like a colossal birdcage, covered in curved bridges, horseshoe-shaped arches, and rounded domes, all dusted with gold-like flecks of fallen sunshine. The picture card had not done this place justice. Rather than being lit by candles, the structure itself glowed. It filled everything with light, making it brighter there than everywhere else, as if they’d found a spot of land that managed to bottle streams of daylight.

“What do we owe you for the ride?” Julian asked.

“Oh, for you two, there’s no charge,” said Jovan, and Scarlett realized this was probably another reason why he’d been so kind to her. “You’ll need all you have inside there. Time goes even faster in the Castillo.”

Jovan nodded to the two massive hourglasses flanking the sand palace’s entrance, each more than two stories high and filled with churning ruby beads. Only a small fraction of the beads were at the bottom.

“If you’ve noticed, the nights and days on this isle are shorter,” Jovan went on. “Certain types of magic are fueled by time, and this place uses a lot of magic, so make sure you use your minutes wisely when you go inside.”

Julian helped Scarlett out of the boat. As they crossed over the arched bridge and past the massive hourglasses, Scarlett wondered how many minutes of her life it would take to form one bead. A second in Caraval seemed richer than an ordinary second, like that moment on the cusp of sunset, when all the colors of the sky coalesce into magic.

“We should look for the type of place your sister would be attracted to,” said Julian. “I’d wager that’s where we find the third clue.”

She thought of the note tied to her key. Number three you must earn.

Beyond the hourglasses, the path on their right led up into a series of golden terraces, which formed most of the Castillo. From below they looked like libraries, full of the kind of antique books Scarlett felt people were always saying not to touch.

The path straight ahead fed into a massive courtyard, swarming with color and sound and people. A banyan tree grew in the heart of it, teeming with tiny birds made of wonder. Winged zebras and avian kittens, miniature flying tigers wrestling with palm-size elephants that used their ears to keep aloft. A motley collection of gazebos and tents surrounded the tree, music dancing out of some, while laughter tripped out of others, like the jade-green tent selling kisses.

There was no question as to where Tella would have ventured, and if Julian had asked, Scarlett would have confessed she was also mesmerized by what she saw in the tented courtyard. She should not have been tempted.

Scarlett should have been thinking only of Tella, looking for her next clue. But as she watched the jade kissing tent, fluttering with hushed giggles and whispers and the promise of butterflies, she wondered. …

Scarlett had been kissed. At the time she’d told herself it was nice, and she had been content with that, but now nice seemed like a word people used when they had nothing better to say. Scarlett doubted her nice kiss would compare to a kiss during Caraval. In a place where even the air tasted sweet, she tried to imagine the flavor of someone else’s lips pressed to hers.

“Does that strike your fancy?” Julian drew out his words with a throaty rasp, bringing an instant flush to Scarlett’s face.

“I was looking next door.” She hastily pointed to a tent the unfortunate color of plums.

Julian’s grin grew. Obviously he didn’t believe her. His smile stretched wider as her cheeks grew pinker.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he said. “Although if you need some practice before your wedding, I’m more than willing to help for free.”

Scarlett attempted to make a sound of disgust, but it came out more like a whimper.

“Was that a yes?” Julian asked.

She gave him a foul look, meant to serve as a no. But apparently teasing her put him in a good mood.

“Have you even seen your fiancé?” he asked. “He could be really ugly.”

“His appearance doesn’t matter. He sends me letters every week, and they are kind and thoughtful and—”

“In other words he’s a liar,” Julian broke in.

Scarlett scowled. “You don’t even know what his letters say.”

“I know he’s a count.” Julian began ticking things off with his fingers. “That means he’s a noble, and no one holds a position like that and manages to stay honest. If he’s looking for an island bride, it’s probably because his family is inbred, which also means he’s unattractive.” Julian’s tone turned serious as one of his fingers came to rest beneath the bottom of Scarlett’s chin, tilting her face toward his. “Are you sure you don’t want to rethink my offer and consider that kiss?”