“She also left a ransom note,” Julian added. “So, when you return, you should be able to wed your count and live happily ever after.”

Scarlett admitted her sister was clever. But if their father figured out the truth, he’d be livid—especially with her wedding only a week away. The image of a purple, fire-breathing dragon came to mind, coating her vision with ashy shades of anxiety.

But maybe a visit to this isle is worth the risk. The wind seemed to whisper the words, reminding her that the thirteenth was also the date on Legend’s invitation. Anyone who arrives later than this will not be able to participate in the game, or win this year’s prize of one wish.

Scarlett tried not to be enticed, but the child inside her drank in this new world greedily. The colors here were brighter, thicker, sharper; in comparison, every hue she’d seen before seemed thin and malnourished.

The clouds took on a baked bronze glimmer the closer they drew to the isle, as if they were on the edge of catching fire rather than expelling rain. It made her think of Caraval Master Legend’s letter, how its gilded edges almost seemed to flame when they captured the light. She knew she needed to return home immediately, but the promise of what she might find on Legend’s private isle tempted her, like those precious early morning moments, when Scarlett could either wake up and face the ruthless reality of day, or keep her eyes closed and continue to dream of lovely things.

But beauty could be deceiving, as evidenced by the boy who sat across from her, rowing their raft smoothly through the water, as if kidnapping girls was something he did every day.

“Why is Tella already on the isle?” Scarlett asked.

“Because this boat only holds two at a time.” Julian splashed Scarlett again with his oar. “You should be grateful I came back for you after I dropped her off.”

“I never asked you to take me in the first place.”

“But you did spend seven years writing to Legend?”

Heat rose to Scarlett’s cheeks. Not only had those letters been something private she’d shared solely with Tella, but the mocking way Julian said Legend’s name made Scarlett feel foolish, as indeed she had been for so many years. A child who’d yet to realize that most fairy tales did not end happily.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Julian said. “I’m sure lots of young women write him letters. You’ve probably heard that he never ages. And I’ve heard he has a way of making people fall in love with him.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Scarlett argued. “There was nothing romantic about my letters. I just wanted to experience the magic.”

Julian narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t believe her. “If that’s true, why don’t you want it anymore?”

“I don’t know what else my sister has told you, but I would think you saw what was at stake the other day in the barrel room. When I was younger, I wanted to experience Caraval. Now I just want my sister and me to be safe.”

“Don’t you think your sister wants the same thing?” Julian stopped rowing and let the boat drift over a gentle wave. “I may not know her well, but I don’t think she has a death wish.”

Scarlett disagreed.

“I think you’ve forgotten how to live, and your sister is trying to remind you,” Julian went on. “But if all you want is safety, I’ll take you back.”

Julian nodded to a speck in the distance that resembled a smallish fishing boat. Most likely the vessel they’d used to travel there, since their current raft was obviously not built to combat the seas.

“Even if you don’t know two coins about sailing, it shouldn’t take you long to get picked up by someone else and returned to your precious Trisda. Or”—Julian paused and nodded toward the misty white isle—“if you’re as brave as your sister keeps telling me, you can let me keep rowing. You spend this week with her on this isle, and see if she’s right about some things being worth more than safety.”

A wave rocked the boat, lapping turquoise water against its sides as they drifted into the isle’s ring of chilly clouds. Scarlett’s hair stuck to the back of her neck as Julian’s dark locks curled into waves.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “If I wait to go back to Trisda, my father will destroy me. I’m supposed to wed a count in one week, and this marriage is our opportunity at another life. I’d love to experience Caraval, but I’m not willing to risk my only chance at happiness.”

“That’s a very dramatic way of looking at things.” The side of Julian’s mouth twitched, as if he were suppressing a smirk. “I might be wrong, but most marriages aren’t pure bliss.”

“That’s not what I said.” Scarlett hated how he kept twisting her words.

Julian dipped his oar in the water, just enough to splash her again.

“Stop doing that!”

“I’ll stop when you tell me where you want to go.” He splashed her once more as the boat sailed closer to the shore, and the brassy clouds began to tarnish, turning shades of green and chilly blue.

There was a scent in the air Scarlett had never experienced. Trisda always stank of fish, but the air here was mostly sweet with a bit of tangy citrus. She wondered if it was drugged, for although she knew what she needed to do—get to the isle, find Tella, and then return home as soon as possible—she was having a difficult time telling Julian this. Suddenly she was nine years old again, naive and hopeful enough to believe a letter could make her wishes come true.