Adelina Amouteru
We are close enough now to the ocean that the cannon fire sounds deafening. Rain whips sideways against us. Some of the Kenettran warships nearest the royal Beldish ship blow sharply off course, and I realize that Lucent must be somewhere nearby, pulling and pushing at the winds to throw the Kenettran army into turmoil. Others fire at the Beldish ships—only to see their cannons unwound right on the decks of their ships or their cannonballs vanish in midair. Michel at work. I keep expecting to see Gemma reappear on the back of one of the baliras zooming through the skies, but she doesn’t. The rain streaks lines on my face. I remind myself that we were enemies.
There are so many Beldish ships. One quick glance is all it takes for me to see that this isn’t a battle the Kenettran navy can win. How can we ever push them back? I look down to where the royal ship sails. It is surrounded on almost all sides by reinforcements, and the Kenettran navy is throwing itself forward in vain. Baliras in armored plates soar around the ship, protecting it from the air. Other Elites ride on some of them—one is wearing the royal gold of Beldain. Perhaps he is one of Queen Maeve’s brothers. As I look on, he makes a sharp gesture with his arm toward a Kenettran soldier. The enemy rider rocks wildly backward, as if hit hard, and falls from his balira.
“Get closer,” I call to Magiano, pointing to a clearing in the sky.
“If you have any clever ideas for how to do this without killing ourselves, I’m happy to listen,” Magiano shouts back.
I look harder at the Beldish formation. The royal ship is protected on almost all sides. A half circle of warships. Beyond them is another ring, and then another, until all of the ships look like a honeycomb.
“Look out!”
I throw myself flat against the balira at Magiano’s warning call. A cannonball explodes near us, sending a surge of sea spray high up in the air. I duck. Our balira jerks sideways with a roar, one of its wings singed. I catch a brief glimpse of the Beldish warship that fired at us. My energy churns madly within me, feeding off the fury and fear from the thousands of soldiers in the bay. It builds and builds, until the flesh right underneath my skin tingles from it, as if it might rip me completely apart.
The tether between Enzo and me trembles. I look around instinctively. My heartbeat races. He’s here. The bond trembles violently—as if he has realized I am near too—and an instant later, I see him. He is on the back of a balira, and a stream of fire bursts from his hands, aimed down at the Inquisition ships below. Inquisitors follow closely on his tail. A Beldish rider near Enzo screams as he weaves fire right out of the air and hurtles it toward the soldier. Fire consumes the soldier—he falls from his balira’s back, and the balira, now without a rider, dives toward the water.
Enzo, I call through our bond. He turns to face me. His energy hits me hard, right as I try to exert my own power. Magiano shoots me a look and tightens his grip on me. For a moment, Enzo meets my gaze, and his stare is hard and dark. I know right away that the Daggers have told him everything.
He turns in the direction of an Inquisition warship. He opens his hand, then closes it into a fist. The simplest, smallest movement.
A line of fire explodes across the surface of the water with a deafening roar. The flames race toward the ship at terrifying speed, then burst and curl as they strike the ship’s mighty hull. The fire swallows the wood. Flames shoot high into the sky, engulfing the entire ship. The blast blinds me. I throw an arm across my face, trying in vain to shield myself from the heat and light. My bond pulses violently, his energy feeding mine, the heat scalding the insides of my body. I tilt my head back and close my eye as anguished screams reach us from the Inquisitors on board the burning ship.
The fire hits something—the gunpowder of the cannons. A fierce explosion shudders on the ship’s deck. Burning splinters of wood fly into the air, some rocketing toward us, smashing into the water in giant plumes.
I need to control him. Enzo’s energy is finite, and making such a big move will almost certainly take something away from him. But suddenly it is all I can think about. If I can gain control over him, then we can win this battle.
“Get us closer to Enzo,” I say.
“As you wish, my love.” Magiano pulls hard on the reins, and our balira veers off our course to fly beside Enzo. On our other side flies Sergio and Violetta. Magiano pushes us forward until we are a triangle, and then he takes us down hard.
We skim along the ocean surface. Cannon fire explodes around us, but Magiano pushes on. I feel the balira shudder underneath us. It is injured, and it will not fly us for much longer.
We sail past the burning ship, and as we do, the Beldish queen’s vessel suddenly comes into view, startlingly close. Enzo’s balira draws near, and my heart soars, our bond screaming for us to be closer.
Then, suddenly, Magiano yanks us to one side. An arrow hurtles right over our heads. I only have time to let out a startled cry before I see another balira pull up close to us. Maeve’s hard eyes bear into mine. She hoists her crossbow at us.
I fall flat against our balira’s back. Behind Maeve, Lucent lifts an arm—a blast of wind hits Magiano and me. I squeeze my eye shut and hang on for dear life. Our balira screams in protest. It flips in midair. When I open my eye again, Maeve has pulled right next to us. She crouches against her balira and makes a flying leap toward ours.
Her sword is in her hand the instant she lands. She lunges at me. I’m so surprised that all I can do is throw my hands up in defense. My powers lash out desperately at her, seeking to wrap her in an illusion of pain. For an instant, it seems to work—Maeve shudders mid-attack, then drops to her hands and knees. Magiano whips out a blade of his own and slashes at her. But another blast of wind from Lucent forces him back. At the same time, Maeve glances up at me with clenched teeth, fighting to tell herself that the pain she’s experiencing isn’t real.
“You little coward,” she spits at me. Then she manages to come for me again. Her blade glitters.
Another cannon explodes near us, hitting our balira’s other wing, and it careens wildly out of control. Suddenly I feel nothing beneath me but rain and air, and all I can see is a blur of sea and sky. I reach out blindly to grab for Magiano’s hand, but I don’t know where he is.
I hit the ocean hard. The icy water knocks the breath out of me, and I open my mouth in a vain attempt to scream. My hands grapple for the surface. Cannonballs and arrows streak through the dark water, leaving trails of bubbles in their wake. The muted sound of explosions sends tremors through my bones. My lungs scream. This is the Underworld, and I will meet the gods on this dawn. The fear trapped inside me bursts free, and my powers veer wildly out of control. For an instant, I remember what it felt like to stand within an inch of the burning wood at the stake, an inch from death. I feel my power intensify and the whispers ignite in my mind.
Then I see the flicker of fire and light overhead, and turn my face in its direction. I kick out as hard as I can. The sky draws closer.
I break through the surface of the sea. The muted sounds around me turn deafening. I turn my face up to the sky to witness the terrifying illusion I’ve painted across the stormy night—a monstrous creature made of ocean and storm grows, covering nearly the entire expanse of sky, its eyes burning crimson, its fanged mouth so wide that it stretches from one end of its face all the way to the other. It lets out an earthshaking shriek. I feel the call from deep in my bones. On board the ships closest to me, Inquisitors and Beldish soldiers alike drop to their knees, shielding their faces in horror.
Suddenly, a curtain of wind pushes me up out of the water. Lucent? No, there is an arm around me, strong and sturdy. It’s Magiano, mimicking her. I see wood debris, then the massive hull of a ship. The queen’s ship. He sends us surging over the side of the ship. His arm wraps tightly around my waist.
We soar over the railing and land hard against the ship’s deck. The impact knocks me down. I r
oll a few times, then come to a stop. Immediately I try to struggle to my feet. I fight for air. Nearby, Magiano pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, then leaps to his feet. Soldiers and sailors are everywhere, manning the cannons and firing flaming arrows in the direction of Kenettran ships. My tether trembles. Enzo is already here, crouching on the ship’s deck. Michel is up in the rigging, and Raffaele stands at the bow, his eyes turned right on us.
Another balira soars over our heads. An instant later, Teren lands in a flurry of white armor and robes, his Inquisition cloak fanning all around him in a soaked circle. His eyes glint with the light of insanity, madder than I’ve ever seen.
A curtain of water splashes down on us, and I look up to see Maeve leap from her balira and onto the deck in a graceful crouch. Lucent follows behind her, carried on a curtain of wind.
“Surrender,” Teren shouts at Maeve. “And give your navy the order to retreat.” It is a strange sight, seeing the Inquisition standing with us. Rain drips down Teren’s chin. “Or this bay will be your grave, Your Majesty.”
Maeve laughs. She nods toward the ocean, where Beldish warships continue to push steadily forward. “Does this look like we should surrender, Master Santoro?” she shouts back, her voice raw and harsh. “We’ll sit on your throne by noon.” Then she nods at her youngest brother, and Tristan lunges forward. He moves with terrifying speed. One moment, he is rushing toward us with sword drawn—the next, he has reached Teren and slashes at him with the blade. I’m suddenly reminded of Dante, the Spider, my first kill, and the memory sends energy rushing through me. He will cut Teren in half.
But Teren wastes no time. He draws two blades from his belt, lowers his head, and smiles at Tristan. He blocks the prince’s attack—the sound of metal against metal rings out.
Beside me, Magiano whirls and launches into the air. His braids are swept behind his shoulders by gusts of wind, soaked through and glittering with rain and ocean, and in this instant, I do not see a mortal, but the angel of Joy, his wild ecstasy permeating everything around him, his power overwhelming. I can see him taking in a deep breath of air. He is surrounded by Elites. His power has reached its height.
He sends a blast of wind hurtling at Maeve. It knocks her clear off her feet. At the same time, he sends a column of fire racing toward her. Lucent manages to move in time, carrying Maeve on another curtain of wind out of danger—but only barely. Magiano rushes forward at them, daggers drawn, and hurls one at Maeve.
The dagger unwinds before it can ever reach her. It reappears in Michel’s hand.
He sends another dagger hurtling in Raffaele’s direction. This one nearly hits him straight in the throat. Enzo is the one who saves him this time—the prince is a blur of motion, leaping into the path and deflecting the dagger with his own sword. He shoots Magiano a deadly glare. At the same time, Raffaele hurls something in my direction that glints in the darkness. A glass vial. It shatters at my feet.
I jump back just as a creature darts from between the broken shards. It’s a tiny thing—flesh-colored, with what seems like hundreds of legs. Its jaws seek my feet. I jump again as it lunges forward.
When the creature snaps at me a third time, I stamp on it hard with the heel of my boot. I manage to catch its back half. It writhes, trying to bite me, but I pull out my dagger and stab it, crushing its body against the floorboards.
My energy roars in my ears. The battle all around us has fed me to an uncontrollable level. The color of the ocean around us shifts, turning from dark gray to bright silver and then to a brilliant turquoise, lit from within, the illusions fed by my growing power.
I look up to see Michel, swinging from the rigging toward me. I weave an illusion of pain around him. He shudders for an instant—but then I feel him push back with his own strength. He is an artist. He taught me illusions. And now he seems able to see through mine.
“You monster!” he shouts at me. And I know from the pain in his voice that he has already learned of Gemma’s death.
Magiano lands near the helm. He points a dagger up at Michel. The rigging rope Michel is swinging from suddenly unwinds, vanishing, only to reappear on the deck’s floor. Michel’s swing turns into a fall. He plunges towards the deck. Lucent catches him at the last second.
In anger, I lash out toward Lucent with all my strength. My gaze flicks to her hurt wrist—I focus on that, weaving an illusion that increases her pain tenfold. Lucent falls, uttering an anguished cry.
Maeve leaps down between us, and my illusion wavers for a moment from the distraction. The queen’s glare is one of ice and fury. She draws her sword and her gaze intensifies. “Leave her,” she snaps, then rushes toward me.
Sergio’s blade saves me—he appears from nowhere and meets the queen mid-swing. I stagger backward, then look up at the sky. There, Violetta continues to circle on the balira’s back. She meets my stare for an instant.
The distant boom of cannons distracts all of us. The Beldish warships have drawn closer, and Beldish soldiers have us surrounded. Maeve leaps away from Sergio suddenly and calls down at Teren.
“You are outnumbered!” Her eyes fix on me. “The Beldish do not believe in abominations,” she says to me. “We revere your malfettos in the Skylands. You are an Elite, the children of the gods. Just like me. There is no reason for us to fight.”
A long time ago, I might have listened to that. Not an abomination. An Elite. But I am the White Wolf, and I am too powerful to be swayed by the Beldish queen’s words. I look up at her, suddenly disgusted by her olive branch. What a trick. She doesn’t want peace—she nearly killed me. She wants to win, and she will take over Kenettra under the disguise of friendship. Not all Elites are the same. Not all Elites can be allies.
I don’t answer her. Instead, I tilt my head in Enzo’s direction. “Enzo,” I shout. My power surges with his.
“He will not bow to you, White Wolf,” Maeve barks at me. Still, I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “He knows the truth. He is one of the Daggers, one of us now.”
Not if I can help it, I think, clenching my jaw. Through our tether, I reach out with my threads of energy and seek out his heart. I will control you.
Enzo approaches me. Daggers are in both of his gloved hands, and his face is a mask of anger. “You are a traitor, Adelina,” he growls.
My strength wavers under his words. My heart—my bond, I can no longer tell the difference—cries for his nearness, yearns for him. “I kept myself alive,” I call out over the chaos.
“You kept so many lies,” Enzo seethes.
The energy of the tether between Enzo and myself now shifts, pivoting the balance of power. The tendrils of my energy that had been wrapped so securely around Enzo’s heart a moment earlier now start to loosen. Something pushes back against it. I claw for control, but suddenly Enzo’s energy surges back at me, seeking my heart. It is the same surge I’d felt when he’d first returned, when we were alone together and his strength overwhelmed mine.
“I love you,” I cry out at him. “I didn’t want to see an enemy nation use you for their own gain. They are taking your throne—can you not see that? Your Daggers are traitors!”
I stop when Enzo’s power hits me again through the tether. It makes me cringe in pain. His fists tighten. An anguished expression haunts his face. “You nearly killed Raffaele at the arena,” he shouts back. “You killed Gemma. Are you not using others for your own gain? Your new Elites? This war, your aim for the throne? Me?” His voice breaks a little, and beneath his rage is a deep pain. “How could you?”
His words stir the whispers in my mind. They are angry now, and so am I. “And who did I learn that from?” I snap. “Who taught me to use others for my own gain?”
Enzo’s eyes fill again, pooling with darkness. “I loved you once,” he shouts. “But had I known what you did to Raffaele in the arena—had I known what you’d do to Gemma, I would have killed you myself w
hen I had the chance.”
The words stab me, one by one. I feel a wave of grief, even as my anger continues to beat against my heart. How easily he turns away from me. How quickly he forgives his own Daggers’ betrayals. I grit my teeth through my tears. “I’d like to see you try!”
Enzo’s eyes are fully black now. I feel his energy overpowering mine, wrapping me in heat. I try to move my limbs, but I can’t. No.
He lunges at me.
I fling my illusions at him, wrapping him in a net. He staggers backward for an instant, clawing at his face—he thinks there is a white-hot blade stabbing him in the eyes. But somehow, through our link, Enzo is able to discern which threads are real and which are illusion. He pushes it aside. Then he shakes his head, fixes his eyes on me again, and sends fire searing toward me.
Enzo, no. I throw my hands up and scream. So, after everything, this is how I will die—burned alive, the way I should have gone all along.
The flames sear my skin. But then, an instant later, an ice-cold blast of rain strikes me hard, quenching the fire. The force of the wave knocks me to my knees. When I look up, Sergio clings to the back of a balira right over our heads, the creature’s enormous wings spraying water across the deck as it turns in a spiral.
Enzo looks up too. His moment of distraction is all that I need. I take the opportunity to reach out and hurl my threads of energy through our tether. Enzo winces as my claws rake back into place, returning control into my hands. Enzo shudders. He fights me once more, but then stops. I fall to my knees on the deck, breathing hard. Nearby, Enzo crouches onto one knee too. His head is bowed. We are both exhausted.
“You live because I say so,” I hiss, my teeth clenched together. My rage builds, filling every corner of my body. I can no longer see the boy I once loved. I can hardly see anything at all. The whispers take over, wrenching away my control over myself. My voice is no longer mine, but theirs. “And you will do as I command.”