“I get cold,” she stated simply. “And you look as if you have a chill as well, though I’m guessing it’s not from the temperature.” Aiko’s eyes went to the brunette, watching as she wrapped her hand around Julian’s arm.

“Her name is Angelique. You might recall her from the dress shop. She loves flirting with the ones who have their sights set on someone else.” Aiko looked pointedly at Scarlett.

“Is this your way of saying I should go over there and talk to him?”

“You said it, not us,” said Tella.

Aiko nodded in agreement.

“Ah!” Tella exclaimed.

Scarlett followed her sister’s gaze until it hastily dropped on Dante, who’d just entered the party. He was still dressed in black, but now had both his hands, and a pretty girl on either arm.

“Dante, I’m so glad you’re here! I was looking for you, and I believe Aiko was as well.” Tella trotted off toward Dante. Without a word Aiko followed, leaving Scarlett all alone.

Scarlett tried to steady herself with a deep breath, but her heart beat faster with every step she took. Dew from the grass dampened her thin gold slippers. Julian still hadn’t looked her way and she feared what she would see when he did. Would he smile? Would it be the polite sort or the real sort? Or would he turn back to Angelique and make it clear that whatever he’d shared with Scarlett was really nothing at all?

Scarlett stopped several feet away, unable to move any closer. She could hear the low rumble of his voice now as he told Angelique, “I think that’s where we’re headed next.”

“And are you planning on stealing the show again?” Angelique asked.

A wolfish flash of teeth.

Angelique wet her lips.

Scarlett wanted to melt into the night, wink out of existence like a broken star.

Then he saw her.

Without another word, Julian set down his glass and strode toward her. The leaves above Scarlett shuddered, raining down bits of green and gold as he moved. His gait shifted, wavering between confident and something that looked nothing like it.

Her Julian. Yet, how could he be hers when she didn’t know anything real about him?

She said, “Hello,” but it came out like a whisper. And for a moment they just stood there, under trees that had gone as still as her heart.

“So, is your name really something else?” she finally asked. “Like Caspar?”

“Thankfully, no, my name is not Caspar.”

When Scarlett didn’t smile, he added, “It gets too confusing if we all use different names. Only the performer who plays Legend does that.”

“So your name really is Julian?”

“Julian Bernardo Marrero Santos.” His lips curved slightly, just the corners. Not the wicked twist she recognized. Another sharp reminder that this was not the boy she knew. Shades of the rich ruby love she’d felt during the game mixed with hues of deep-indigo hurt, turning everything just a little bit violet.

“I feel as if I don’t know you at all,” she blurted.

“Ouch—you’re wounding me, Scarlett.” He sounded more serious than mocking. Yet all she heard was the way he’d called her Scarlett—not Crimson. The nickname had probably just been part of the game, and it shouldn’t have meant anything, yet not hearing it reminded her once more of who he really was, and wasn’t.

“I don’t think I can do this.” She turned to leave him.

“Scarlett, wait.” Julian grabbed her arm, spinning her back around. From the distance they might have looked like one of the many dancing couples around them—if one couldn’t see the frustration in his face or the hurt in hers.

“Why do you keep calling me Scarlett?” she asked.

“Isn’t that your name?”

“Yes, but you’ve never called me it before.”

“I’ve also never done this before.” A muscle ticked in Julian’s jaw. “When the game ends, we go, leaving everything behind. I’m not used to talking to participants after it’s over.”

“Would you rather I go?” Scarlett asked.

“No. I would think that’s obvious,” Julian ground out. “But I do want you to stop looking at me as if I’m some kind of stranger.”

“But you are,” she said.

Julian winced.

“Can you deny it? You know so much about me and I don’t know anything real about you.”

The hurt in Julian’s expression deepened. “I know it feels like that, but not everything I told you was a lie.”

“But most of it was. You—”

Julian brought a finger to Scarlett’s lips. “Please let me finish. It wasn’t all a deception. Who we play during Caraval always reflects part of who we are. Dante still thinks he’s prettier than everyone else. Aiko is unpredictable, but usually helpful. You might think you don’t know me, but you do. What I told you—about my family being well connected and playing games—that was true.” Julian waved an arm, gesturing toward all the people around them. “This has been my family for most of my life.”

A mixture of pride and some other emotion that Scarlett couldn’t place edged his features. And suddenly she recognized one of his names from her nana’s stories—Santos. “You’re related to Legend?”

Instead of answering, Julian scanned the celebration before turning back to her. “Will you walk with me?” He reached out a hand.

Scarlett could still remember kissing his fingers, tasting each one as she pressed them to her lips. A tremor slid across her bare shoulders at the memory. He’d warned her that she should be afraid of his secrets, and now she understood why.