The Rose Society
Beside the bed, Teren looks away.
“You had quite the reputation at the Fortunata Court,” Giulietta says, retracting her hand abruptly and stepping away again. She gives him a curious look. “I can see why. Rumor has it that when my brother was alive, he visited you frequently. He was fond of you, wasn’t he?”
She is baiting him, toying with his emotions. Careful. Raffaele keeps his lashes down and his grief tightly at bay. “He enjoyed my singing and wit,” he replies in a calm, humble voice.
“Your singing and wit,” she echoes, a small smile on her lips. “Is that what the pleasure courts call it now?” A brief pause follows before she continues, “I’ve heard about your power, Messenger. That you can find other Elites like yourself. Is this true?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“What else can you do?”
She fears me, Raffaele thinks. He lowers his eyes and his voice. “I bring comfort and calm,” he replies simply. “I soothe.”
“Then give me some peace of mind, Messenger, and answer me this,” she says. Her eyes harden. “Where are the other Daggers?”
Raffaele doesn’t hesitate. “In Beldain.”
At that, a spark of pleasure lights in Giulietta. She smiles a little and makes a sympathetic sound in her throat. “Ran away after your prince died, didn’t you? If I spared your life, would you betray your fellow Daggers and lure them here?”
Raffaele keeps his eyes downcast, and doesn’t answer.
Giulietta gives him a cold smile. “I didn’t think so,” she murmurs. She nods at her Inquisitors, and they hoist their crossbows higher. Raffaele stays very still, careful not to make a move that will set off one of the Inquisitors. His heart pounds. The queen tilts her head at him. “Are you afraid of death, Messenger?”
Raffaele can hear the breath of string against wood, the tightening of the Inquisitors’ grips on their crossbows. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he answers in a tight voice.
“Then tell me why I shouldn’t execute you right here. What do you want, Messenger? Or did you really become so incompetent as to be captured like this? Why did the Beldish queen bring you here?”
Raffaele stays silent for a moment. “I let myself get captured,” he says, “because I knew you would never agree to an audience with me otherwise. You are too clever a queen to meet Elites out in the open. This is the only way to talk to you and make you feel safe in the process.”
Giulietta raises an eyebrow. “How considerate of you. And what do you need to tell me that is worth risking your life?”
“I came to ask your mercy for the malfettos in Kenettra.”
Teren stiffens at that. Raffaele can feel the surge of his temper. This is a good test. How will Giulietta react to his request? What will Teren do?
Giulietta gives Raffaele an amused smile. “Malfettos were traitors to my crown. They tried to put my brother on my throne.”
“But now your brother is dead,” Raffaele replies. He moves closer to Giulietta and leans toward her, letting his lips brush her cheek. His eyes dart briefly to Teren. “And the leader of your Inquisition is an abomination. You are a practical queen, Your Majesty, not a radical one. I can see this quite plainly.”
Giulietta searches his face, looking for evidence that Raffaele feels pain at talking about Enzo’s death. She doesn’t find it.
“The Daggers have always fought for security,” he continues. “For survival. It is the same thing you fight for.” His eyes harden for a moment. “Your husband was the one that the Daggers wanted gone. He was a fool—we all knew this. If you show mercy to malfettos in your kingdom, then what reason would we have to fight you?”
“Mercy,” Giulietta muses. “Do you know what I do to those who betray me?”
“I have seen it, yes.”
“So, what makes you think I will grant the Daggers or the malfettos mercy?”
“Because, Your Majesty,” Raffaele replies, “the Dagger Society is a group of powerful Elites. We can bend the wind to our will, can control the beasts, can create and destroy.” He doesn’t take his eyes off her. “Wouldn’t you like to have that power at your command?”
Giulietta laughs once. “And why would I trust you to pledge me your powers?”
“Because you can give us the one thing we want, the only thing we have ever fought for,” Raffaele replies. “Spare your malfettos. Let them live peacefully, and you may gain for yourself a society of Elites.”
Giulietta looks serious now. She studies Raffaele, as if searching to see whether or not he’s lying. A long silence passes. Behind them, Teren’s energy churns, a dark blanket across the room. He stares at Raffaele with eyes full of hate.
“This whore is a liar,” Teren says in a low voice. “They will turn on you the instant—”
Giulietta holds up a lazy hand to stop him. “You told me you would find the White Wolf and bring me her head,” she says over her shoulder. “And yet, I received word this morning that Adelina Amouteru overpowered a ship of my Inquisitors in Campagnia. Left them dead. Rumor has it that she has gathered supporters, that she is sending us a message of her approach. So, does that not also make you a liar, Master Santoro?”
Teren flushes a dark scarlet at the same time Raffaele frowns. For a moment, Raffaele’s careful demeanor cracks. “Adelina is here?” he whispers.
Giulietta looks at him. “What do you know of the White Wolf?”
A hundred memories flash through Raffaele’s mind. Adelina, scared and furious at the burning stake, uncertain during her testing, timid and sweet in their afternoon training sessions … cold and hateful in their final farewell. What is she doing back in Kenettra, and what does she want? “Only that she has betrayed enough of us,” he replies. He hides the twinge of guilt in his heart. And that I once betrayed her too.