The Rose Society

  I cannot breathe. It is a frightening, savage energy—my power lashes out at Enzo, pulling him forward and trying to overpower him. For a while, it does. I can feel the threads of my energy whipping around his, washing over them and swallowing them whole. They act as if I were not even here. Like I have no control.

  I can feel his fire coursing through me, wrapping around my heart, wanting more. This is nothing like the gentle kiss I’d shared with Magiano. I cannot let go—I’m not sure I want to. My energy darts through our tether, coiling itself around his heart and whispering for him to come closer. I realize that I am the one coaxing him on. Commanding him.

  Then, suddenly, something pushes back against my power. It pushes hard.

  The sound in Enzo’s throat turns into something dark, a rumble, a growl that doesn’t sound human. Without warning, he shoves me back against the wall, pinning me there with his weight. I gasp. His energy blankets me. This shouldn’t be possible. An illusion of mine flings out from us and spirals around the room, erasing the dilapidated barn and replacing it with a night forest covered in snow, illuminated by the glow of the moons. The ground beneath us is soft with bright green moss. The wall behind me turns into the trunk of an enormous, twisted tree. And Enzo . . . when I get a glimpse of his eyes, I see that they have gone completely black, the darkness filling every corner. I choke out a gasp of horror. I realize vaguely that the string at the top of my tunic has come undone, exposing my skin and the curve of my shoulder. He arches against me as I pull him toward me.

  No. My energy suddenly explodes against him, forcing his power back.

  His lips leave mine. He forces himself away, pushing back even as our joint energy protests. The darkness leaves his eyes, returning them to normal, and the hunger that had been on his face moments earlier dissipates, leaving confusion. We stare at each other, trying to figure out what just happened. The tether between us still protests, even now, each of our Elite powers whispering and clawing for the other.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Enzo whispers, taking a step back.

  It feels horribly wrong, like a slick of oil coating the inside of my stomach. But with the nauseating feeling had come that unimaginable heat. When I look at Enzo’s face, I can tell that he desires it too, even as it unsettles him. He tightens his jaw and turns away from me. When he looks back at me again, his face has settled into something cold, distant, and calculating. The Reaper’s face.

  Is it him? I try to force down a shudder of frustration. I’d thought that the darkness pooling in his eyes was something that happened only in the arena, while he was being revived. But here it is again, turning him into something inhuman in the moment that it invades his eyes, in the moment when we touch. There is something very wrong.

  The tether between us pulses, disturbed, and I tremble, remembering the way his power had nearly overwhelmed mine, pushing me down and down until I would have been just a tight ball of energy, trapped inside myself. What had truly happened? According to Gemma, whoever Enzo is tied to should be able to control him. But I had not felt in control in that moment. I’d felt threatened, felt him trying to overpower me.

  That should not be right. But Enzo is an Elite, reborn—he is something that has never existed before. Perhaps Maeve did not predict the extent of Enzo’s powers as well as she should. I shiver, trying to understand what this means.

  You are his link to the living world. You can control him. Try it.

  I reach out through the link now, searching for him. My threads seek out his heart as if they have a mind of their own.

  Enzo shudders and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, blackness pools into the whites of his eyes. I try to breathe—but I realize that when I hold his heart in my hands like this, I cannot. It’s as if the action of controlling an Elite requires every last bit of my energy. An irrational boldness takes hold of me.

  “Paint a wall of fire behind me, Enzo,” I whisper, taking a step toward him. My gaze stays locked on the blackness in his eyes.

  Enzo doesn’t say a word. He lifts one hand, then brings it back down in an arc. Heat explodes behind me. I break my stare for an instant to look—and there, exactly as I’d commanded, burns a wall of flames roaring from floor to ceiling, so hot that it threatens to scald my skin. I turn back to Enzo with my lips slightly parted. I’m so surprised by his obedience that I lose my concentration.

  Enzo shakes his head violently. Suddenly his power lunges back at me again, taking advantage of my moment of distraction. I stumble once as the force of his energy overwhelms me. An illusion sparks around us, gray mist and rain, only to vanish again. My mind struggles for control, pushing back against his, trying to contain him. It is like pushing against a wall. I grit my teeth, shut my eye, and hurl my energy through our tether.

  Finally, he backs down. Enzo shudders as my power forces his away. The flames behind me vanish in a trice, leaving only Enzo pressing a hand against his forehead, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. My energy snaps off from his heart and comes rushing back to me. The room falls back into silence. I’m breathing hard.

  This. This is the power that Maeve, Raffaele, and the Daggers had wanted by bringing Enzo back. None of them care about him—they only want to do with him what they once did with me: to use him to get the throne. But even they must not have anticipated this strange phenomenon, that Enzo can fight back against his bonded partner. I blink rapidly as the realization sets in, and it sends a knife through my heart.

  Just as I can control him . . . if I am not careful, he will be able to control me.

  “What happened?” Enzo whispers, looking up at me from where he crouches. I realize that he does not remember what he did—when the darkness takes over, he loses himself. My shock at what happened sinks into despair. How can we rule side by side like this, always fighting each other for dominance? How can we return to where we once were?

  You will have to crush him, the whispers answer me. Either he will be your slave, or you will be his.

  The door bursts open. Both of us jerk our heads to see Magiano standing there, mouth already open to tell us something. He pauses when he sees our faces. His slitted eyes go to Enzo first. He hesitates, then looks back at me. His gaze lingers as I turn a bright red. Hastily I try to weave an illusion to cover up my flush, but it’s too late—suspicion appears on Magiano’s face, along with something else. Fear.

  I will tell him later how I was able to call on Enzo’s powers.

  Enzo straightens and pulls out one of his daggers. Magiano’s eyes dart back to him. The two glare at each other.

  “Who are you?” Enzo says in a low voice.

  Magiano blinks, then holds up his lute. “I’m the entertainment,” he replies.

  “He is an Elite,” I say, when I see Enzo’s threatening stare. “Magiano, the thief. He’s joined us.”

  “Magiano.” At that, Enzo lowers his dagger slightly. He gives him a curious look. “We’d all started to think that you were a myth.”

  Magiano gives him a half smile. “I guess I must be real, Your Highness.”

  “Why is he here?” Enzo turns back to me. “What are you planning?”

  “To take back the throne,” I reply. “To destroy Teren and the Inquisition Axis.”

  Before I can say more, Sergio and Violetta come to the door.

  For a moment, Sergio looks as if he might address the prince, even thank him for sparing his life all those years ago. But he doesn’t. Enzo watches him with a quiet, careful stare. Sergio opens his mouth, then closes it again. He clears his throat, and walks over to the window instead. He points out at where the malfetto camps start dotting the field. “You can see the commotion from here.” He waves us over. His eyes settle on Enzo again, as if he’s not quite sure what to do around him. “You’ll want to see this too, Reaper,” he adds.

  Enzo walks over. The tether tugs between us, leaving my heart beating and
my breaths short. I even recognize his walk—elegant, predatory, careful. Regal. My thoughts scatter as I walk over to the window. If I gain the throne, will I match that kind of grace? Can I persuade Enzo to follow us, find a way I can reliably control him?

  Sergio points as we gather. “The camps. They’re burning.” He doesn’t have to gesture much for us to see what he means. A dark cloud of smoke and ash rises over the land where the camps are set up. Even from here, we can see patrols of Inquisitors making their way through the camps’ rows. Their white cloaks are a stark contrast against the green and brown of the land. There must be dozens of them.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” I ask Sergio.

  He nods. “The rumors have been flying through the city and the villages,” he replies. “The queen has demoted Teren from his Lead Inquisitor title. He is to leave tomorrow to inspect the southern cities.”

  “Demoted?” Violetta exclaims. “The queen relies so heavily on his power. Why would she send him away?”

  Magiano shrugs, but his eyes glow bright. “He either upset her, she finds him unreliable, or she has no more use for him.”

  “Teren has angered my sister,” Enzo says. “Disobeyed her. He will do it again.”

  “But he’s the queen’s lackey,” Magiano says. “He—”

  Enzo raises an eyebrow. “I remember that rumor. He has been in love with my sister since he was a boy. He would give his life for her, but he will not be sent away from her side. Not even by her. He is convinced that her well-being is in his hands.”

  Even though I don’t know the details of what happened, I know immediately who must have come between them. Raffaele. He is working his power, and the Daggers are closing in. That means Beldain’s navy may make their move soon. I look down at the scene. Why are they burning the camps?

  And then it comes to me. If the queen has sent Teren away, he must be furious. If the queen has rejected his wish to destroy all of Kenettra’s malfettos, then he might have turned his back on her. He is going to carry out his plans, one way or another. He will kill the malfettos today.

  He will burn them all.

  “We have to save them,” I whisper. “And I think I know a way.”

  Pale eyes suddenly flash in front of my face, directly on the opposite side of the glass—as if Teren were right there, floating in midair, lunging for me. I choke on a scream and stagger back from the window. I lash out to shield myself. Teren, he’s here, he’s going to kill me.

  “Adelina!” It’s Violetta, and her cool hands have grabbed my wrists. She’s pleading with me. “It’s okay. You’re okay. What happened?”

  I blink as I look at her, then back at the windowpane. The pale eyes are no longer there. Sergio and Violetta stare at me in concern and confusion. Enzo’s lips are tight. Magiano has a serious look that I rarely see on him.

  One of my illusions, run rampant. It’s happening more frequently now.

  Enzo approaches me first. He offers a hand, then helps me to my feet with one effortless tug. I tremble at his touch. “Steady, little wolf,” he says gently. The words are so achingly familiar that I want to collapse against him. Behind him, Magiano looks away.

  I shake my head and let my hand fall away from his. “I thought I saw something,” I mutter. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure—?” Sergio starts to ask.

  “I’m fine,” I spit back. He blinks, startled at the venom in my voice. I’m startled too. Immediately I tone it down, then sigh and run a hand through my short hair. Beside me, Enzo watches me carefully. I know he felt the way my energy lurched through our tether. He knows. But he doesn’t say anything.

  I can’t stand everyone looking at me. “I’m fine,” I repeat, as if saying it enough times will make it true. The image of the pale eyes appears again in my mind. I shudder. Suddenly, the room feels too small, the air too thin. I turn away from everyone and hurry out into the narrow hall leading down to the stairs.

  “Hey.”

  Magiano catches my arm and spins me around. His pupils are round now, and his eyes a soft honey. He frowns. “Another illusion out of control, wasn’t it?” he says. “Has this always happened with your powers?”

  “It’s not unusual,” I grumble, even though I know it’s not true.

  “When did it start?” When I don’t answer right away, Magiano’s voice hardens. “We have pledged ourselves to putting you on the throne. We deserve an answer. When did it start?”

  I’m silent.

  “Was the time in Merroutas your first? In the gondola?”

  I feel as if illusions were lying in wait right outside my line of sight, ghosts waiting to appear. I can’t hide it from Magiano. “It happens after I kill,” I whisper.

  After I killed Dante, my uncontrollable illusions caused Enzo’s death. After I killed the Night King, I saw my father in Merroutas. And after I killed the Inquisitor that night in Estenzia . . . this. I shiver uncontrollably.

  “I’m fine,” I say over and over again. I glare at Magiano, daring him to question me.

  He steps closer, then reaches down to touch my cheek. “Adelina,” he murmurs, then hesitates. I think he’s going to tell me to be more careful, that I shouldn’t stay on this path. Instead, he sighs. As always, I find myself drawn to his warmth. He is truly alive, and this moment feels real. I’m still trembling. Why can’t I stop my illusions anymore? Behind him, the others emerge from the room and look on.

  Finally, he nods back toward the window. “You said you know a way for us to save those malfettos,” he says. “Well, what? What’s your plan?”

  I squeeze my eye shut and take a deep breath. Calm yourself, I command. Magiano’s presence steadies me. I look up at him. “Teren is down there right now, in the malfetto camps,” I say. “We can trick him to work in our favor.”

  “In our favor?”

  “Yes.” I look from Magiano to the others. “If Teren is at odds with the queen, he’ll want retaliation. He’s doing it right now. He can be our way into the palace, and to the throne.”

  Enzo approaches and a surge of anger travels through the tether that links us. “And what makes you think you can bend Teren to your will?” he says. “His disobedience to my sister will not make him our ally.”

  “Enzo,” I reply, “I think I know why Teren has been banished. I think I know who came between them.”

  At that, Enzo’s expression changes instantly. His anger becomes confusion, then realization, all in the blink of an eye. “Raffaele,” he says.

  I nod. “I think Raffaele is in the palace. I don’t know what he has done, but if the Daggers are working to break the two of them apart . . . then we might be able to find the Daggers by going to the palace. In order to do that, we’ll need to trick Teren into working with us. He will be able to get us in faster than we can do it ourselves.” I hold up my hands. “I can only disguise so many of us, and only for so long.”

  “We don’t have much time,” Magiano adds, looking in the direction of the burning camps.

  Enzo considers my words. The thought of reuniting with the Daggers and with Raffaele has given him some spark of life, and I can feel it burning within him. Someday, he will figure out what I did to Raffaele at the arena. What will happen then?

  The whispers surface. Then you must exert your control over him.

  After a moment, Enzo straightens and walks past us. “Let’s hurry, then.”

  Teren Santoro

  I’m not supposed to be here.

  Still, Teren marches down the rows of the malfetto camps. “There,” he says, pointing, leading a squadron of Inquisitors behind him. Giulietta may have stripped him of his Lead Inquisitor title, but he still has patrols at his command. Now he motions for his men to head to each of the longhouses where the malfettos are. “Get them all inside.”

  Inquisitors push frightened malfettos back into their ass
igned quarters. Their shouts ring out across the camps. Teren waits until each longhouse is filled, and then he nods again at his men. “Lock the doors.”

  As Teren marches down the row of longhouses, the Inquisitors lock each door behind him, metal scraping against metal as the doors are bolted shut.

  Giulietta’s words ring in Teren’s head over and over again, becoming a cacophony of betrayal. You are no longer my Lead Inquisitor. He pledged his entire life to her, but she no longer wants it.

  He remembers the way he used to make her smile, how she would let him unpin her hair and it would tumble down past her shoulders. He imagines kissing her again, wrapping her in his arms, waking up in her bed.

  How could she push him aside in favor of the Daggers? Teren shakes his head. No, this is not the princess he grew up knowing. This is not the queen he pledged to serve. He had made a promise before the gods that he would cleanse this land of abominations, and he’d thought that the queen wanted the same thing.

  And now she wants to free the malfettos, after all the hard work he has done?

  “Light the torches,” Teren commands, and his men rush to do his bidding.

  No, he cannot allow the Daggers to win like this. If he has to leave the city, he is going to take the malfettos down first.

  He pauses at the end of the row, then turns to face the longhouses again. He takes a torch from one of his men, walks up to the first longhouse, and holds it up to the thatched roof. It catches fire.

  As the smoke builds, and the people trapped inside begin to panic, Teren walks to the next longhouse, shouting a command over his shoulder. “Burn them all.”

  It is better to have an enemy who will fight you in an open field than a lover who will kill you in your sleep.

  —Kenettra and Beldain: An Ancient Rivalry, various authors