The Young Elites (The Young Elites #1)(17)
Author: Marie Lu

I nod. My father had cursed the rise in wine prices, and rumor had it that Estenzia was forced to cull a hundred prized horses because they couldn’t afford to feed them. People starved. The king sent out the Inquisition and killed hundreds during the riots.

Raffaele sighs. “The boy caused that drought by accident, and he could not stop it. He fell into panic and frustration. People blamed malfettos, of course. The temples burned malfettos at the stake in hopes that sacrificing us would lift the drought. The boy started acting strange and erratic, causing a public scene by trying to conjure rain right in the middle of a market square, sneaking off to the harbor at night to try to pull at the waves, and so forth. Enzo was not pleased. Do you see? Someone who cannot learn to control his energy is a danger to us all. We do not operate for free. Keeping you safe here, feeding and clothing and sheltering you, training you . . . this all costs coin and time, but most of all, it costs our name and reputation to those loyal to us. You are an investment and a risk. In other words, you need to prove that you’re worth it.” Raffaele pauses to take my hand. “I don’t like to frighten you. But I will not hide from you how seriously we take our mission. This is no game. We cannot afford a weak link in a country that wants us dead.” His grip tightens. “And I will do everything in my power to make sure you are a strong link.”

He is trying to comfort me, even in his honesty. But there’s something he’s not saying. In the brief, silent spaces between his words, I hear everything else I need to know. They’ll be watching me. I need to prove that I can conjure my powers again, and that I can wield them with precision. If for some reason I can’t control my abilities, they won’t just cast me out of the Dagger Society. I’ve seen their faces, where they stay, and what they do. I know that Kenettra’s crown prince leads them. I know too much. A weak link in a world that wants us dead. That weak link could be me.

If I cannot pass their tests, then they will do to me what they must have done with the boy who could not control the rain. They will kill me.

Raffaele Laurent Bessette

Midnight. The entire Fortunata Court is asleep, and Raffaele sits alone in his bedchamber, turning the delicate pages of a book on the moons and tides. Waiting. Finally, a soft knock sounds at his door. He rises in one smooth motion, his beaded silks glittering in the candlelight, and walks on silent feet to let in the visitor. Enzo enters with a sweep of dark robes, bringing with him the scent of wind, night, and death. Raffaele bows respectfully.

Enzo closes the door behind him. “The Tournament of Storms,” he whispers. “It’s confirmed. The king and queen will make a rare appearance together there. It will be our best chance to strike both of them down.”

Raffaele nods. “Perfect.”

Enzo frowns at him. “You look tired,” he says. “Are you all right?”

Raffaele’s client for the evening had left over an hour ago. “I’m fine,” he decides to reply.

“Did you see Adelina today?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

He tells Enzo about Adelina’s test. How she reacted to each gem. He touches on her alignment with the amber and nightstone, her overwhelming attraction to the twin rocks. As he feared, Enzo narrows his eyes in interest. Raffaele shivers at his expression. He has recruited many Elites for the young prince in the past few years, but none has ever shown Enzo’s same alignment to diamond, such fiery ambition. Being near his energy is intoxicating.

“Fear and Fury,” the prince says thoughtfully. In the candlelight, his eyes gleam. “Well. That’s a first.”

Raffaele takes a deep breath. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

Enzo keeps his gloved hands folded behind his back. “What do you advise?”

“Get rid of her. Now.”

“After all that trouble, you are asking me to kill her?”

Raffaele’s voice is pained, but firm. “Enzo. Every single one of her memories was laced with darkness. It is an infection of the mind. Something is very wrong with her. She should have manifested early, as a child, but only now has she started to find her power. It has built up inside her, and the energy feels twisted in a way that disturbs me. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is ravenous to use it. I don’t know how she’ll respond to our training.”

“You’re afraid of her,” Enzo murmurs, intrigued. “Or perhaps you’re afraid of your fascination with her.”

Raffaele stays silent. No. I’m afraid of your fascination with her.

Enzo’s eyes soften. “You know I trust you. I always have. But getting rid of her would be a waste. Adelina has the potential to be very useful.”

“She will be very useful,” Raffaele agrees. The sapphire strands in his hair catch the light. He casts Enzo a sideways look. “If she’ll obey you.”

“I will take back my throne soon,” Enzo whispers. “And malfettos will no longer live in fear.” Raffaele could feel the threat of fire emanating from Enzo’s body. “Adelina has the potential to get us there, even if that potential lies within darkness. We’ve all seen what she can do. She has no reason to turn on us.”

Raffaele hesitates. “Tread carefully, Reaper. We don’t know the extent of her energy yet.”

“Then train her. Let’s see how she does. If your opinion of her remains, I’ll get rid of her. But until then,” he says, his eyes hardening, “she stays.”

We are making a terrible mistake, Raffaele thinks, but bows anyway. “As you command, Your Highness.” As he does, his hair tumbles forward and exposes his neck. Enzo leans closer. Then he reaches out and gently pushes Raffaele’s collar aside.

Ugly red bruises circle the consort’s lower neck, as if someone has tried to choke him. Only now, as Enzo touches Raffaele’s chin and tilts his face in the direction of the light, does the faint purple bruising at the edges of his lips become noticeable.

Enzo looks Raffaele in the eyes. “Did one of your clients do this to you?”

Raffaele’s eyes stay downcast. He adjusts his collar back into place, then brushes his hair across one shoulder in a glossy rope. He says nothing, knowing that his silence answers Enzo’s question.

“Tell me the name,” Enzo murmurs.

Raffaele doesn’t speak for a moment. Most of his clients are gentle with him, even in their passion. But not all. Memories from earlier in the evening return, memories of rough hands on his neck, shoving him against the wall, striking his face, insults whispered harshly into his ear. It happened on very rare occasions, and he did not like troubling Enzo with the details. Raffaele’s work is important to the Daggers, after all—he might not have the same powers that the others do, but while his power cannot kill, it does hypnotize. Many of his clients fall so feverishly in love with him that they become loyal patrons to the Daggers. Political alliances are made in his bed.