The Young Elites
Page 22

Rough hands yank me up onto my feet. “Get to the Messenger,” Dante hisses at me. Then he vanishes into the crowd, his eyes fixed on other Inquisitors.
I fight my way through the crowd, remembering my next step. Meet Raffaele at the end of the square. He’ll usher you to safety. The energy in the air is like lightning—I can practically smell the terror—the power crackling all around me in a glittering shower of energy threads. The darkness inside me hungers for it, yearning to break free, and I have to force down the irresistible urge to flood this entire square with illusions of Underworld monsters. So much power around me, going to waste. For a moment, I attempt to shroud myself in invisibility—but too many people are jostling past me, and every time I start to throw the illusion over myself, I’m jolted out of it. Finally I just give up and continue running.
It takes me a moment to realize that some in the crowd are cheering. They raise their fists to the sky at the fireworks and flames. They watch the dazzling display with smiles on their faces. I recall what Raffaele had told me earlier. Let the Inquisition Axis see what happens when they force us to humiliate ourselves. The people here are cheering on the Young Elites. Applauding the strike.
At the piers, a second ship explodes. Then, a third. An unstoppable chain reaction continues along the water’s edge, each ship’s demise causing the next, until flames and exploding fireworks consume the entire harbor, transforming the night into day, orange and yellow everywhere I look, the earth trembling from the sheer energy released into the sky. Explosions, the roar of flames, the shouts of thousands of people—it all swirls together into deafening chaos. Never could I have imagined panic like this. Their fear pools in me, a black and powerful current.
I have to find Raffaele. I turn a corner into a narrower alley in an attempt to get away from the frenzied crowds. For a moment, I’m alone. Almost there. My slippers hit a puddle, and cold water splashes against my ankles.
Something white flashes before my face.
Before I can react, a hand catches me around my neck and shoves me against the wall. I see spots exploding before me. Blindly, I strike out.
A voice chuckles at my antics. I freeze. I recognize that voice. The white blur that flashed past my eye now stills into the unmistakable look of an Inquisitor’s cloak. “Well, well, well,” the voice says. “A Tamouran girl.”
I stare into Teren’s face.
No. Not here. Not tonight.
The sight is enough to unleash my energy. I bare my teeth at him as a red-eyed demon lunges out from the wall behind me and throws itself at Teren with a shriek. Teren flinches for a split second, but his grip never lightens. His eyes widen in surprise.
“What’s this?” he says with a smile. “Have you grown defiant since the last time we talked?” He hoists a crossbow. “Any more moves like that, and I might decide to kill off your sister. I gave you your two weeks.” His smile turns hard. “And you are late.”
“I’m sorry,” I say urgently. My mind spins. “Don’t—please don’t hurt her. I couldn’t find a time to get away and see you. They’ve been training me relentlessly.” I glance at the main square. “If the Elites see me talking to you, they will kill me, and you won’t get your—”
Teren only ignores me and keeps me pinned in place. His grip is unnaturally strong, his face too close. “In that case, you had better start talking. You owe me some information.”
I swallow hard. The Daggers can’t be that far away. They knew I would be heading down this way, and if I don’t show my face soon, they will search for me. And they will see me here.
Teren’s grip tightens so much that it starts to hurt. My hands fly up to where he holds my neck. He narrows his colorless eyes. “Give me their names.”
“I—” What can I tell him, without destroying the Daggers? My mind scrambles frantically for a solution.
“I saw you arrive at the festival with a Fortunata Court consort,” Teren adds. “He has been with you before, too. Is he one of them?”
No. I shake my head automatically, letting the lie come. “He was just my escort.”
Teren’s stare wanders across my face. “Just your escort,” he muses.
Tears well up in my eye. No. Please don’t hurt Raffaele. “Yes, just my escort.”
Teren makes an annoyed sound in his throat. “Talk. Lady Gemma—does that name sound familiar to you? Any idea why she was a rider at the qualifying races?”
I shake my head dumbly.
“Who leads them?”
No, no, I can’t. “I don’t know. Truly, I don’t!”
Teren narrows his eyes again. He hoists his crossbow with one arm and points it right in front of my good eye. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not,” I whisper through his tight grip.
“Violetta will pay for this, you know. Not you. Violetta.” He leans close, his voice like honey. “Do you want to hear all the things I will do to her?”
He whispers them into my ear, one by one, and I start to cry in earnest. I don’t know what to do. My thoughts are too tangled. Violetta. I glance again to the chaotic square. Where is he keeping her? Energy lurches through me, feeding on my terror. It begs for release, but I clamp down hard on it.
“I beg you—” I start to say. My mind spins. “I’ll tell you what you want. Just give me one more week. Please. You can’t be seen here with me, it won’t help either of us.” I scan the alley. “There’s no time. They’re here too. They can’t—”
Before I can utter anything else, Teren’s eyes flicker up. I do the same—and see a flash of dark robes high up on the rooftops. A jolt of terror leaps up my spine. The Daggers, they’re coming. They’re going to see us. All around us, the other Inquisitors are consumed with containing the chaos. He doesn’t have enough men with him. I can feel him weighing his options, deciding whether or not he has time to force answers out of me right now before the Daggers catch up to me.
Please. Please let me go.
His instant of hesitation vanishes. He grabs me by my collar and pulls me close. “You have three days,” he says in a low voice. “If you go back on your word again, I will shoot an arrow through your sister’s neck and out the back of her skull. She’ll be lucky if that’s the first thing I do.” He smiles, his teeth flashing in the night. “We can be enemies, Adelina, or we can be the best of friends. Understood?”
That’s all he has time to say. I look up to the roofs. And I see Dante crouched there, arrow nocked, staring at both of us through his mask.
A rush of sapphire robes strikes Teren, knocking him to the ground and releasing me from his clutches. I stumble against the wall. Before me is a tangle of white and blue—Teren shoves a Dagger off him and rolls up onto his feet. The two face each other. It’s Enzo, face hidden behind his silver mask, daggers in hand.
“The Reaper!” Teren exclaims, pointing his crossbow straight at Enzo and pulling out his sword. “Always coming to the rescue of malfettos, aren’t you?”
Enzo’s blades turn bright red, then white hot. He lunges at Teren before he can fire his crossbow, then strikes, seeking out his eyes. Teren dodges him with a fluidity that shocks me. He swings his sword in an arc—it almost catches Enzo in the chest before he darts out of the way. Fire bursts from Enzo’s hands and consumes the two of them in a haze of light. Through the inferno, I can see Teren locked blade on blade with Enzo.
The flames don’t harm him. His skin seems to burn for an instant, then return back to normal, smooth and untouched. I freeze at the sight. It is not just a trick of the light—the flames do not harm him at all.
How is that possible? Unless—
“Go!” Enzo snaps at me. Their blades clash with a ring of steel. Again and again. Overhead, an arrow sails down and strikes Teren near his neck. He grunts in pain—but then, to my horror, he reaches up and yanks it out unceremoniously. He tosses it away. His skin stitches itself together, healing in seconds, until I see nothing but a smear of blood on his neck.
Teren is a Young Elite.
I find my feet and make a run for it. When I glance up, I catch sight of Lucent with her bow and arrow locked on Teren, trying to find a good shot.
A rough hand clamps down on my arm. I turn and stare right into the silver mask of a Dagger.
Dante. “How about you cloak us in invisibility and get us out of here.” There is something in his voice that chills me. Something in his eyes that tells me he saw more tonight than I wanted him to see.
All around us is screaming, panic, people, the roar of a firework-fueled inferno raging at the harbor. I force myself to do as Dante says. I cloak us in a hurried illusion of invisibility, and he leads us away in the direction of the closest catacomb entrance. Behind us, Enzo has already vanished, disappearing as quickly as he’d come. Teren’s voice rings in my ears.
Three days.
They were the best of friends as long as they did not know
they were supposed to be enemies. The truth would do its
damage soon enough. —Brothers in Fire, by Jedtare
Adelina Amouteru
Irest alone in my room.
Out in the streets, people chant for and against the king, for and against the Elites.
Maids come in to check on me, making sure I’m unharmed from the previous night, but I send them away and stay under my blankets. Every time I hear one of them approaching, I jump—it is Dante, who has figured out my betrayal and is coming to kill me. Once, I hear Enzo’s voice out in the hallway, asking a servant whether I’m all right. Gemma tries to get me to come out, but I refuse her. I lie here until the shafts of light have shifted to the other side of the room. Memories of Violetta run through my mind, tangled with all the ways Teren has promised to torture her.
I have three days. Three days of time, before I either tell the Daggers the truth or betray them entirely.
I linger on the way Teren’s skin stitched itself together after Dante’s arrow tore through his shoulder. Teren is an Elite hell-bent on killing other Elites, on killing malfettos altogether. I turn the thought over and over in my head, unable to make sense of it. No wonder Enzo didn’t even try attacking Teren on my execution day. No wonder they have not targeted Teren earlier. How can an Elite turn on his own kind?
Through my shock, I feel a sinking despair. If even the Daggers cannot hurt Teren, then what chance do I have?
Raffaele is the only one who finally pulls me out of my thoughts. He comes to my door at sunset. “You’re awake,” he says gently. “Come. Get dressed and follow me.”
I have a sudden urge to tell Raffaele everything—Teren’s threats, his stranglehold on my sister, what he has offered. You could get the others to help me right now. We could do a mission together, to save my sister. But each time I think this, I hesitate. They are intent on seizing the throne. An attempt to free Violetta from the Inquisition’s clutches is a significant and dangerous detour. Do they care enough about me already to risk their entire mission? Besides, I have no idea where my sister is. Teren could kill Violetta before any of us gets to her in time.
Raffaele watches me carefully. I hope he can’t predict why my energy is shifting so much. I open my mouth, and out comes a harmless phrase. “Is it time?”
At my expression, he nods. “Yes, it’s time.”
A lump lodges in my throat. I’d looked forward to this day. Now I’m not so sure.
He starts to turn away, then pauses and looks back at me. “I know last night was frightening for you,” he says. “It’s all right, mi Adelinetta. No one will hold it against you.”
He thinks I feel this way because of yesterday’s killings, because Teren attacked me. He doesn’t know what Teren said to me. I nod in silence beside him, then keep my gaze turned down.
We make our way through the now-familiar corridors, then head out into the courtyard and down toward the cavern. Neither of us says a word.
Finally, we step into the cavern. For only the second time, I see all the Daggers gathered. The only one missing is Enzo. His absence sends a spike of panic through me. He’s probably at his royal estates, or gathering his patrons. Or . . . what if Teren has discovered his identity? What if the Inquisition is after him right now?
Raffaele nods for me to come forward. I do as he says, until I’m only a few feet away from him. The other Daggers look on without a word. Gemma flashes me a smile, and so does Michel. I smile faintly back. At the other end, Dante watches me with a dark, ominous look. I try to ignore him, but his expression sends nausea through me, reminding me of Teren’s words. What is he thinking? What did he see? I look at the others again, searching for anything I might have missed. Do any of them know?
Raffaele steps toward me and hands me a neatly folded bundle of cloth. When he steps aside, I see that within the cloth is a silver mask. In the silence, I take it and hold it out solemnly before me. They don’t know yet.
My hands are shaking uncontrollably now. In spite of everything, my heart still leaps in a moment of excitement. This is my silver mask, my dark robe. From this day forward, I am supposed to be one of them. For the first time in my life, I have been accepted by a group.
The excitement fades quickly, replaced by dread.
“Repeat after me,” Raffaele says. I nod wordlessly, my throat dry. His words echo all around us.
“I, Adelina Amouteru—”
Violetta will pay for this, you know. Not you. Violetta.
“—hereby pledge to serve the Dagger Society, to strike fear into the hearts of those who rule Kenettra—”
I’ll tell you what you want. Just give me one more week. Please.