Legendary (Caraval, #2)

by Stephanie Garber

The name at the bottom of this one was The Prince of Hearts.

Jacks <3

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.

Eva ;)

“Fortune-tellers aren’t like you and me. They see the world as it could be, and sometimes they try to bring about what they want, rather than what should be.”

Once a future is foretold, that future becomes a living thing and it will fight very hard to bring itself about.

Dante had wings. And, holy mother of saints, they were beautiful—soulless jet-black with midnight-blue veins, the color of lost wishes and fallen stardust. He was turned toward his nightstand washing his face, or maybe he was kissing his reflection in the mirror.

“I was bored,” Tella mumbled. “It seemed like an interesting way to pass the time.” “If that’s true you should have just come to me.” Dante was definitely laughing now.

he bit into an intensely white apple.

I actually love that I read OUABH first bc I'm picking up on all of these clues :)

“Careful, pet.

hehe :)

Or perhaps he was Legend and couldn’t resist talking about how others were so obsessed with him.

He tasted like exquisite nightmares and stolen dreams, like the wings of fallen angels and bottles of fresh moonlight.

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

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.

Unwed Bride’s veil of tears,

La La!!!

Chaos’s

!!

imposter Undead Queen.

I have a feeling that this is really the Undead Queen!!

These were the real Fates.

I knew it ;)

she’s our best hope for it, brother.”

I FREAKING KNEW IT FROM BOOK 1! DANTE IS LEGEND...

“No. I don’t want your help.… I want you.” Dante’s gaze caught on fire and he took her mouth with his. 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. Dante wasn’t trying to seduce her; he was convincing her just how little goodness mattered, because nothing he was doing with his hands could have been considered good. Yet every brush of his lips was sweet. Where others had demanded, Dante asked, slowly sweeping his mouth across hers until she parted her lips, letting his tongue slip inside as he pulled her onto his lap. Maybe the fountain’s enchantment was at work because Tella imagined by the time she finished kissing Dante, she’d forget every other boy who’d ever touched her mouth. Dante’s lips moved to her jaw, gently nipping and licking as his hands found the rope he’d tied around her waist. Knotting his fingers with it, he pulled her closer, until everything was made of just the two of them. Of their hands and their lips and the places their skin met. They hadn’t even broken apart and Tella was already thinking of kissing him again, and again, tasting not merely his lips but every single one of his tattoos and scars, until the world ended and they were nothing but shadows and smoke, and Tella could no longer remember the sensation of slipping the cloak from his shoulders and running her h...

The fountain analogy UGH

“No. I don’t want your help.… I want you.” Dante’s gaze caught on fire and he took her mouth with his. 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. Dante wasn’t trying to seduce her; he was convincing her just how little goodness mattered, because nothing he was doing with his hands could have been considered good. Yet every brush of his lips was sweet. Where others had demanded, Dante asked, slowly sweeping his mouth across hers until she parted her lips, letting his tongue slip inside as he pulled her onto his lap. Maybe the fountain’s enchantment was at work because Tella imagined by the time she finished kissing Dante, she’d forget every other boy who’d ever touched her mouth. Dante’s lips moved to her jaw, gently nipping and licking as his hands found the rope he’d tied around her waist. Knotting his fingers with it, he pulled her closer, until everything was made of just the two of them. Of their hands and their lips and the places their skin met. They hadn’t even broken apart and Tella was already thinking of kissing him again, and again, tasting not merely his lips but every single one of his tattoos and scars, until the world ended and they were nothing but shadows and smoke, and Tella could no longer remember the sensation of slipping the cloak from his shoulders and running her h...

Are you joking...this is the longest text I've ever highlighted... Is it possible to like Dante more than Julian?

Tella claimed she didn’t want love—she liked to say love trapped and controlled and ripped hearts apart. But the truth was she also knew love healed and held people together, and deep down she wanted it more than anything.

Real.

She’d accepted the cards she’d been given and turned them into her fate because it felt like the only way to protect herself after her mother left. But maybe if Tella chose to reject what she’d seen in the cards then she could have a new destiny. One where she didn’t have to be afraid of love.

Is this chapter written for me? I needed this book in my teens.

Either Dante really cared about Tella, or he was the master of Caraval and he didn’t care at all.

Not everything is black and white, Tella.

Dante was Legend. Legend was Dante.

YES