Aiko dropped something, too small for Scarlett to see, in his palm. “Try to make it pretty.”

The organist began to play a melancholy tune, and the carousel started to move, spinning slowly at first. If Tella were there, Scarlett imagined she would have hopped up on it, plucked its red roses, and put them in her hair.

Red!

Scarlett watched as the rosy carousel continued to twirl, shedding brilliant red petals onto the path. A few landed on Aiko’s waffle as well, sticking to the chocolate.

Scarlett couldn’t tell if her senses were coming back, or if the carousel was somehow important, for at the same moment that Scarlett realized she could see the rich red of its petals, a gentleman with an eye patch walked by. Like everything else he was painted in shades of gray and black, except for the crimson cravat around his neck. It was the deepest hue of red she’d ever seen. His face was equally hypnotic. He possessed the kind of dark good looks that made Scarlett wonder why everyone else wasn’t staring as well.

She debated following him. He was mystery and unanswered questions. But something about him made her feel perilous shades of silky black. He moved through the crowd like a wraith, graceful but with an edge that felt a little too dangerous for her liking, and even though she felt a pull toward him, Aiko’s journal called to her just as strongly.

The pipe organist’s song picked up speed, and the carousel spun faster and faster. Petals landed on more than just Aiko’s dessert. They flew until the path in front of them turned to red velvet and the canal beside them transformed into blood, leaving the carousel naked save for its thorns.

The few other people on the street clapped.

Scarlett felt as if there were a deeper lesson there, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. Her vision was back to full color. The gentleman with the patch had almost disappeared from view, yet Scarlett continued to feel an unwanted pull toward him. If he’d been wearing a top hat, she might have wondered if he was Legend. Or maybe this enigmatic young man was a decoy Legend had placed in the crowd to lure her away from the actual clue. Earlier that night, as she looked at the winking bridge, Scarlett would have sworn she’d felt Legend’s eyes on her, spying on her attempts to figure out his clues.

Scarlett only had a moment left to make her decision—if she was going to follow the young man, or try to look in Aiko’s journal, the only thing untouched by red petals. If Scarlett’s theory about the cider was right, both the young man and the journal were significant, but only one could lead her closer to Tella. “If I do make this trade to look in your notebook, what is it I’ll be gaining? Is it the fourth clue?”

Aiko swayed, humming cryptically. “It’s possible; lots of things are.”

“But the rules said there are only five clues.”

“Is that really what they said? Or is that just how you interpreted them?” asked Aiko. “Think of the instructions as a map. There’s more than one way to get to almost every destination. Clues are hidden everywhere. The guidelines you received just make it easier to spot them. But keep in mind, clues are not the only thing you need to win. This game is like a person. If you truly want to play it right, you need to learn its history.”

“I know all about its history,” Scarlett said. “My grandmother has been telling me tales since I was a little girl.”

“Ah, tales passed on from your grandmother, I’m sure they’re very accurate.” Aiko took a bite of her waffle, white teeth sinking into the red petals on top of it, as she started down a new path.

Scarlett looked a final time for the man with the eye patch. But he was already gone. She’d missed her chance. She couldn’t lose Aiko as well.

The pretty girl was now in the middle of buying edible silver bells, and coin-size cakes dipped in glitter. As Scarlett followed, she imagined the girl was about to burst from all she had eaten, but she continued to buy from every vendor who asked her to make a trade. Scarlett discovered Aiko believed in saying yes whenever possible. Conversation paused as she bought confetti candies that glowed like fireflies, a glass of drinkable gold, and everlasting hair dye—for those silver hairs you want to be rid of forever—though Aiko looked far too young for it.

“So,” Scarlett started as they wove onto a street full of shops with pointy roofs but blessedly free of vendors. She felt ready to make a deal, but she wasn’t about to jump into it blind, as she had done before. “Caraval’s history is written in your notebook?”

“In a manner,” Aiko said.

“Prove it to me.”

To her astonishment, Aiko offered her the book.

Scarlett hesitated; it almost seemed too easy. “But I thought you’d only let me see if I gave you something in return.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be bound to any deal unless you decide you wish to see more. The pictures that would help you are sealed by magic.” She said the word magic as if it were a private joke.

Scarlett took the book cautiously. Thin and light but somehow full of pages, every time Scarlett turned one, two more seemed to appear behind it, all of them painted with fantastical pictures. Queens and kings, pirates and presidents, assassins and princes. Grand ships the size of islands and tiny slips of wood that looked like the boat she and Julian had—

“Wait—these are pictures of me.” Scarlett flipped the next few pages. Aiko’s art showed her on the boat with Julian. Trudging half naked to the clock shop. Arguing behind the gates of the turreted house.

“These were private moments!” Thank the saints there were no compromising pictures of her in her room with Julian, but there was a very vivid piece of art showing her fleeing from Dante as every eye in the tavern looked on in judgment.