The Young Elites (The Young Elites #1)(27)
Author: Marie Lu

Tides of fear and anger rise in my chest, fusing into one, filling my mind with whispers. “What do you know of what I care about?” I murmur harshly.

“Have you already forgotten your little sister? What a cold heart.”

Violetta. An icy claw grips my heart. Suddenly I’m back in my nightmare, putting my arm around my frail sister as a thunderstorm rages outside, then turning her around to find that she is not there at all.

No. He’s just trying to bait you. “What could you possibly know about my sister?” I snap.

“Plenty enough. On the morning of your burning, she came to me to beg for your life. Did you know that? Now it’s your turn to return her favor.”

He’s lying.

“You don’t have her,” I mutter.

Teren’s reply is one full of amusement. “Do you really want to play that game with me?”

My resolve quivers. She had gone to him? What if Teren is telling the truth—what if she did, and he kept her? Whispers swirl in my mind, their words incomprehensible, filling me with the buzz of terror. And I thought she had moved on, perhaps promised to marry some wealthy man. What if she’d instead been with the Inquisition for weeks?

Why would you do that for me, Violetta?

“I don’t believe you,” I whisper.

Teren doesn’t answer, and for a long moment, we just listen to the drums. Just when I think he might have left altogether, he replies, “I have your sister, whether you want to believe it or not. And I will happily torture her until you can hear her screams from the Fortunata Court’s beautiful balconies.”

He is lying. He is lying. He must be. I imagine Violetta’s terrified face, tears streaking her cheeks. I imagine blood.

“Give me time,” I finally whisper. I don’t know what else to say.

“Of course,” Teren answers soothingly. “We are on the same side. You’ll soon realize you’re fighting for the right cause.” His tone turns strangely reverential. Serious and grave. “You can help me fix this world, Adelina.”

I’m caught in the middle of a tightening web.

“Next week,” he whispers. “I want to see you at the Inquisition Tower. Bring me some information that I’ll find useful.”

“How do I know you won’t simply seize me once I arrive?”

“Stupid girl,” Teren snaps. “If I wanted you arrested, I’d do it right now. Why would I seize you when you can be my little helper?” He draws very close, his breath hot against my ear. “If I like what you tell me when you arrive at the Tower, your sister gets to be pampered and fed until the next time I see you. If you don’t come to me . . .” He pauses. I can see his subtle shrug out of the corner of my vision. “Then I don’t keep up my end of the bargain.”

Then he will kill her. I have no choice. I simply nod.

No answer. The brush of his breath against my ear vanishes, and cool air prickles my skin. The drumbeats finally come to a stop. Up on the platform, Raffaele and the other two consorts bow to the crowd. The roomful of clients leap to their feet, roaring their enthusiasm, their applause thunderous. In the midst of the chaos, I look around me in a frantic attempt to find Teren’s face.

But he’s already disappeared into the sea of masked faces, as if he were never there. Only his words remain, echoing in my mind, haunting me.

I have been turned into a spy against my will.

Let it be known, so the gods help me. I am not a traitor. I am not a spy.

—Inscription etched in stone on the wall of an Estenzian prison cell, by an unnamed prisoner

Adelina Amouteru

I retreat to my bedchamber that night without saying a word to anyone. Raffaele frowns at me as I leave, his eyes following my figure from across the main court, but I force a quick smile at him and hurry away. It isn’t until he catches up with me in the secret halls that I finally turn around to face him.

Raffaele seems genuinely concerned for me, an emotion that tugs at my heart. He brushes my cheek with a brief touch of his fingers. His eyes are still bold with gold powder, his lashes long and black. “You seemed frightened during the performance,” he murmurs. “Are you all right?”

I force back a smile and try to keep distance between us. The last thing I need is for him to sense how much I’m trembling. “Yes, I was,” I lie, hoping he can’t tell. “I felt too exposed in the audience tonight. Perhaps just my nerves.” I try to smile. “I’ve never seen you perform.”

Raffaele watches me carefully. I try to comfort myself with the fact that he can only feel the shift of my energy, not read my actual thoughts. If he thinks I’m acting strange, let him think it’s because of his performance, or from being out in public.

Or I could tell him what happened. I could let him know that Teren has hunted me down, confess the task he gave me. After all, Enzo saved my life. Didn’t he?

But Raffaele’s warning during my gemstone test haunts me. What if the Daggers kill me? They haven’t known me long enough to trust me. What if this is enough to convince them that I am far too risky to keep around? No. I can’t tell them. I might be dead by tomorrow if I do. And Violetta will stay in the Inquisition’s clutches.

Finally, Raffaele decides to give in. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Rest well tonight,” he says. He kisses my cheeks in reassurance, then turns to leave down the hall.

I watch him go. Whether or not he actually believes me, I have no idea.

That night, I stare sleeplessly at the ceiling. I try to picture my sister shivering in the same dark Inquisition cell I stayed in. Had she really begged for my life? Am I willing to risk myself to save her? How do I even know he has her? Do I dare doubt him?

Next week. What am I going to do? How am I even going to sneak away?

The following day, when Raffaele asks me how I’m feeling, I only say that I feel much better. He gives me a sidelong glance, but doesn’t force me to say more.

Another day passes. My initial panic settles into a steady undercurrent of unease. Maybe I had dreamed the whole thing, and Teren never came in the first place. This thought is so tempting that I almost let myself believe it.

By the third day, I’m able to think. In order to survive, I must play this game. And I must play it well.

Five days after the masquerade.

Raffaele and I are back in the cavern. He observes me as I study Enzo sparring with the Spider, trying to figure out how their energy works. Teren’s words linger in my mind, reminders of what he expects from me. My week is almost up. How will I ever be able to sneak off to the Inquisition Tower?