Legendary (Caraval, #2)

by Stephanie Garber

“Did you just insult my use of profanity?” “I thought I asked for more dirty words.”

For it was also said the Prince of Hearts was not capable of love because his heart had stopped beating long ago. Only one person could make it beat again: his one true love. They said his kiss had been fatal to all but her—his only weakness—and as he’d sought her, he’d left a trail of corpses.

“I hate to break your heart, but I think of girls the way I imagine you think of ball gowns; it’s never a good idea to wear the same one more than once.”

“If the game is real, does that mean everything between us is real?” “You’ll have to be more specific than that.” He plucked a petal from her skirt, rubbing it between his fingers as he started down the stairs without her.

Jacks’s every movement was carelessly graceful, matching the musical cadence of his words as he murmured in her ear, “The key to a charade like this is to forget it’s an act. Invite the lie to play until you become so comfortable with it that it feels like the truth. Don’t tell yourself we’re pretending to be engaged, tell yourself that I love you. That I want you more than anyone.”

It was the sort of kiss she could have lived in. The sort of kiss worth dying for.

Oh, how Tella wished she was his weakness. She’d have loved to destroy him.

“Weren’t you the one who said you see girls the same way we see party dresses, only to be used once?” “Clearly I view you a little differently.”

“I’ve never wanted to be someone else until that moment I saw him kiss you on the dance floor.” “You should have asked me to dance first.” “I will, next time.” His lips swept a kiss across her forehead. “Don’t give up on me, Donatella. If you stay with me long enough to get you somewhere safe and warm, then I promise I won’t let go of you like I did that night. Together we’ll fix all of this.”

“Other people might underestimate you, Donatella, but I don’t.”

Jacks gave her a lazy grin and whispered, “What are you trying to find, Donatella? Are you searching for some good in me? You’ll never see it, because it doesn’t exist.”

He hitched an eyebrow. “You honestly think I’d leave you on these steps like this after working so hard to gain your trust?” “I thought you were working for Legend.” He eased closer. “Think whatever you want, but if you honestly believe that’s the only reason I’m here right now with my hands all over you, you’re not nearly as clever as I thought.”

“I play so many roles the tattoos help me remember who I am. Each one tells a true story from my past.”

This was when I knew

His chuckle was dark. “I’m definitely not the hero.” “I already knew that,” Tella said. “It’s my story, so clearly I’m the hero.” His mouth tipped up at both corners, and his eyes sparked, growing as hot as the finger now reaching out to trace her jaw. “If you’re the hero, what does that make me?”

This was nothing like the drunken kiss they’d shared on the forest floor, a rough combination of lust and desire for temporary entertainment. This kiss felt like a confession, brutal and raw and honest in a way kisses rarely were.

And for the first time in her life Tella wanted even more. She wanted the night to stretch into forever, and for Dante to tell her more stories about Fates, and his past, and anything else he wanted to say. In that moment, inside of that kiss, she wanted to know everything about him. She wanted him, and it no longer scared her.

“I swear to you, this—us—we were never a part of Legend’s plan. The first time I kissed you I did it because I’d just died and come back to life, but I wasn’t feeling alive. I needed something real. But tonight I kissed you because I wanted you. I haven’t stopped wanting you since the night of the Fated Ball when you were willing to risk your life because you wanted to make me angry. After that, I couldn’t stay away.”

“I kept coming back to you, not because of Legend, or the game. But because you’re so real and alive and fearless and daring and beautiful and if what’s between us isn’t real, then I don’t know what is.”

“Not everyone gets a true ending. There are two types of endings because most people give up at the part of the story where things are the worst, where the situation feels hopeless. But that’s when hope is needed most. Only those who persevere can find their true ending.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. “I want to talk to Legend.” “Then open your eyes and speak to me.” Her legs gave out. His arms snaked around her, keeping her steady while the world she knew broke into pieces. Dante was Legend.

I was quaking in my boots

They kissed as if the world were ending, lips crashing together as if the heavens were breaking and the ground was crumbling, as if a war raged all around them and this kiss was the only thing mighty enough to stop it. As long as they kissed, only she and Dante existed.

Tella never wanted to open her eyes; as soon as she did, the world would shift. Dante would be gone and there would only be Legend.

Her panic increased and she shoved him again. But he wouldn’t fight back and he wouldn’t flee. He wasn’t afraid. He was something far worse. He was hopeful that she would choose him. He didn’t leave and he didn’t take the cards because he wanted her to give them to him.

“I know you were willing to sacrifice yourself for her, but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice you.”