The Young Elites series by Marie Lu (Page 81)

Teren steps over the bodies, pushes open the throne room doors, and goes in.

The first person I see is Queen Giulietta.

I have only caught glimpses of her from afar, but I recognize her immediately because of her resemblance to Enzo. On this dark morning, she has shed her long silk robes and replaced them with traveling gear—a heavy cloak drapes from her shoulders, and the hood covers her head, revealing only a sliver of her dark locks and the glint of a thin crown. My eye goes to the balcony. The shadow of an enormous ray-like wing glides past, and I realize that baliras are circling the palace, waiting to take the queen and her personal Inquisition guard out of the palace. They are preparing to escort her out of dangerous territory.

Raffaele is out on the balcony. He has already boarded a balira, and several Inquisitors are climbing upon the creature’s back with him. His eyes dart to me—he is the only one in the room who I know realizes who we really are. I can feel the wave of fear surge from him, and a burst of anxiety. The other Daggers.

Where is Enzo? I search frantically. No. The bond is still too far away. He isn’t here.

Giulietta turns in our direction as Teren strides toward her, Inquisitors trailing in his wake. She focuses her eyes on us menacingly. “What is this?” she says. “Guards.” Even the tenor of her voice, rich and deep and mysterious, reminds me of Enzo’s.

A beat later, her eyes dart to the chamber doors. She catches sight of the dead guards’ blood pooling on the floor. Her stare shifts to me. A faint recognition sparks there. Even though she has never met me, she knows who I am—and I want to drink the trickle of fear that appears over her. “The White Wolf,” she murmurs.

Teren smiles a broken smile at her. “Hello, Your Majesty,” he replies. He stops before her and drops into a deep bow.

Giulietta frowns, then tenses. She glances at me again before turning her attention back to him. “You shouldn’t be here, Master Santoro.”

Teren seems unconcerned with her words. “I live to serve your crown,” he says. He glances behind her—his eyes, gleaming with hatred, settle on Raffaele. “But you turned me away, Your Majesty, and let these other abominations near you.”

Giulietta lifts her head. “You do not serve me by being here,” she snaps. She starts to move in the direction of the balcony, where one of the baliras has slowed its circling to hover outside. She glances at Raffaele. “See to it that your Daggers take care of this.”

But Raffaele doesn’t make a move. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step back and folds his arms into his sleeves. Overhead, several baliras are flying in the balcony’s direction. I recognize the tiny spot of copper hair on one of the riders. It’s Lucent.

Giulietta gives Raffaele a harsh look. She narrows her eyes. Realizes the danger she is now in. She glances at the Inquisitors behind Teren. “Seize him,” she calls out. One of her Inquisitors shouts at her to board a balira, and she starts rushing in its direction.

A tingling begins in my fingers and travels up my arms. My power is so strong now that the edges of my vision are starting to blur, illusions of memories and people flashing in and out of my periphery. I could kill the queen myself, right now. The thought rushes through me with exhilarating speed. Teren and his Inquisitors have gotten us into the palace, and now I stand a mere few feet from the ruler of Kenettra. I could twist her so hard with pain that she could die, writhing, here on the floor. This is what we came here to do. Beside me, Magiano gives me a quick glance. He expects it too.

What are you waiting for, Adelina?

But a better idea occurs to me. I came here for revenge, didn’t I? So, instead, I let Teren move forward. Then I reach out with my threads and coil them around Giulietta’s wrist. I yank hard, weaving.

Giulietta lets out a shocked cry of agony as a sudden, searing pain twists her wrist. She looks down in horror as she sees blood dripping down her hand. I smile, strengthening the illusion. She looks up at me. My illusion wavers as she realizes what I’m doing, but she is not strong enough to see past it.

The Inquisitors behind Teren do not move at Giulietta’s command. For the first time, I sense a flicker of uncertainty in her. Giulietta gathers her strength. “I said, seize him!”

Still, the Inquisitors do not move.

Teren lifts his bowed head to look at Giulietta. I expect him to smile, but instead his eyes are filled with tears. “You sent me away,” he says. “I loved you. Do you know how much I loved you?” His voice trembles. I shudder at the blackness that has started to rise within him.

“You are a fool!” Giulietta retorts back. “Do you still not understand why I sent you away? It is because I am your queen, Master Santoro. You do not disobey your queen.”

“Yes, you are my queen!” Teren shouts. “And yet you no longer act like one! You are supposed to be chosen by the gods. Pure of blood, perfection. But look at whom you surrounded yourself with!” He gestures to Raffaele. “You commanded that abomination to touch you? You accepted the Daggers as part of your army, in exchange for halting the cleansing of malfettos?” Teren’s words turn uglier, his voice harsher and louder. He is entirely oblivious to the hypocrisy of what he is saying.

“And what are you?” Giulietta snaps. “You, my malfetto Inquisitor? Have I not forgiven you for your abomination? You know nothing about how to rule! I would do the same for your fellow malfettos, as long as they recognize their abomination, and serve me as my humble subjects.”

I reach for Teren, feeding his anger with threads of my own darkness. My energy wraps around him, adding to his, weaving an illusion around him. I paint a fleeting image before him of Giulietta wrapped in Raffaele’s embrace, with her head thrown back, Giulietta turning away from Teren and toward Raffaele. Giulietta standing on a balcony, pardoning malfettos of all crimes. I paint all of these images before Teren, flashing them one after another, until he is lost in them.