Scarlett wanted to doubt him. If Julian had been down there it would explain at least a few things. Then again, if he’d been the other person she’d heard screaming, she imagined more than just his head would bear a wound.

“I found the tunnels after I left the fortune-teller’s tent.” She detailed everything that followed, leaving out the bit about how she’d thought he had a heart made of black. After Julian had given her the earrings she’d stopped believing that was entirely true, though she still watched him carefully for any signs of deception. She wanted to trust him, but a lifetime of mistrust made it impossible. He still seemed unsteady on his feet, but she imagined it was mostly from the cut on his head. “Do you think it might be where they’re keeping Tella?” she asked.

“That’s not how Legend works. He might lead us through screaming corridors to find a clue to your sister, but I doubt he’s keeping her there.” Julian flashed his teeth, reminding her of his wolfish look from that first night on the beach. “Legend likes his prisoners to feel like guests.”

Scarlett tried to figure out if Julian was just being dramatic. She’d never heard of Legend holding anyone captive. But Julian had said something similar before, and his use of the word prisoners left Scarlett with the same uneasy feeling she’d had the first time she’d wondered why Legend had chosen to abduct her sister. “If Legend doesn’t have Tella locked up, then what is he doing with her?”

“Now you’re finally starting to ask the right questions.” Julian’s eyes met Scarlett’s. There was a flicker of something dangerous, right before they began to shut and he swayed once more.

“Julian!” Scarlett caught both his arms, but he was too heavy to hold, and the couch was too far. She pressed against him. He’d gone from cold to almost feverish. Heat poured from his skin through his shirt, warming her in unexpected ways as she held him up to the door with her body.

“Crimson,” Julian murmured as his eyes flickered back open. Light brown, the color of caramel and liquid amber lust.

“I think you need to lie back down.” Scarlett started to back away, but Julian’s arms wrapped around her waist. As hot as his chest and just as solid.

Scarlett tried to wiggle free, but the look on his face stopped her. He’d never stared at her like this before. Sometimes he gazed at her as if he wanted to be her undoing, but just then it was as if he wanted her to undo him. It was probably just the fever and the head wound. But for a moment, she swore he wanted to kiss her. Really kiss her, not like when he’d been teasing in the Castillo. Her heartbeat quickened and every inch of her felt sensitive to every part of him as his hot hands roamed up her back. She knew she should have pulled away, but his hands seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and she found herself letting him guide her, gently bringing her closer as his lips parted.

Scarlett gasped.

Julian’s hands stopped moving. Her tiny sound seemed to jolt him back. His eyes opened wider, as if he suddenly remembered he thought she was just a silly girl afraid to play a game. He released her and cold air replaced the heat of his hands.

“I think it’s time for me to go.” He reached for the doorknob. “I’ll find you in the tavern right after sunset. We can go take a look at those tunnels together.”

Julian slipped out the door, leaving Scarlett wondering what had just happened. It would have been a mistake to kiss him, yet she felt … disappointed. It came in cool shades of forget-me-not blue, which wrapped around her like evening fog, making her feel hidden enough to acknowledge that she wanted to experience more of Caraval’s pleasures than she would ever have admitted out loud.

It wasn’t until Scarlett lay back down that she realized Julian had managed to avoid telling her exactly how he got injured. Or, how he managed to make it back to La Serpiente, long after the sun had come up and the doors had locked.

Scarlett didn’t notice the roses at first.

White with ruby-red tips, like the blossoms speckling her room’s papered walls. That must have been why she’d not seen them before she’d fallen asleep. She told herself the flowers blended into the room. Someone hadn’t come in while she was sleeping.

But what she really meant was, Legend had not entered her room while she’d slumbered.

Though his early notes had felt like tiny treasures, something about this latest gift resembled a warning. She wasn’t certain the flowers were from Legend. There was no note next to their crystal vase, but she couldn’t imagine they were from anyone else. Four roses, one for every night that remained of Caraval.

It was the fifteenth. The game officially ended at dawn on the nineteenth, and her wedding was on the twentieth. Scarlett only had that night and the following night to find Tella, or at the very latest by dawn on the eighteenth, if she wanted to leave the island in time for her wedding.

Scarlett imagined her father could keep her kidnapping a secret from the count if her fiancé arrived on Trisda early; there were old superstitions about a groom not seeing a bride. However there’d be no salvaging her wedding if Scarlett never showed up for it.

Scarlett reached into her pocket and pulled out the note with the clues once again:

Scarlett no longer believed that Julian was the third clue, the boy with the heart made of black. But she couldn’t dismiss the feeling he was keeping things from her. She continued to wonder how he’d been wounded, how he’d retrieved her earrings, and about their almost-kiss. Though she couldn’t think about the kiss now. Not when she was marrying the count in only five days.