The Young Elites (The Young Elites #1)(59)
Author: Marie Lu

“I’m glad you killed him,” she adds quietly. There is something hard about her expression now. “Father, I mean. I’m glad you did it.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I never thought I would hear such a thing from my sister’s lips. It is this that softens the tight knot in my chest. I try to remember that she went to Teren to beg for my life. That she risked everything. I try to remember the way she used to braid my hair, the way she’d sleep in my chambers during a thunderstorm.

I can only nod.

The sound of commotion in the streets above us breaks through my thoughts. The bells at the Inquisition Tower are tolling. Teren must be getting ready to deliver a speech. We both listen for a while, trying to catch words from aboveground, but we can’t hear anything properly. Only the bells and the sounds of hundreds of muffled footsteps.

“Something big is happening,” I say. Then I motion for us to get up. We have to get to higher ground if we want to find out what’s going on. “This way.”

I lead us farther down the catacomb tunnel, until it branches off into three narrow corridors. I pick the left one. When we’ve walked fifteen paces, I stop and search for the small door embedded into the stone. My hand finds the rough gem in the wood. My energy activates it, and the door opens. We make our way up a tiny flight of stairs, until finally we find ourselves emerging through the wall that borders a dark alley at the edge of the main market square. We wander until the alley meets a side street, then peer out from the shadows at where the main square begins.

The square is crowded with people. Inquisitors line the streets, funneling the people down, and in the canals, gondolas sit idle. No water traffic allowed this morning.

“What’s happening?” Violetta asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply as I look from the crowd to the Inquisitors. We’ll have to wait—with my powers sapped, we can’t be out in the open with so many people around and risk being recognized by a guard. I hold my breath as a group of Inquisitors march past our narrow street. My back is pressed so hard against the wall that I feel like I can melt into it.

They pass by without noticing us. I let out my breath again.

I grab Violetta’s hand and pull us through the shadows. We make our way forward, slowly and laboriously, through winding streets until we finally reach the space where the main square opens up. Here, we crouch in the shadows of a canal bridge entrance and look on as more people file into the square.

The space is crowded this morning, as if it were a market day, but the people are all eerily quiet, waiting in fearful anticipation for an announcement from the Inquisition Tower. My eye wanders up to the rooftops, where statues of the gods line the ledges. They are crowded with Inquisitors today, but even now—somehow, hidden behind tile and chimney, the Daggers must be waiting in silence.

I’m still weak, but the square’s energy crackles with fear, vibrant and dark, and it feeds me.

A faint flicker of movement appears on the Inquisition Tower’s main balcony. A flash of gold robes flanked by white, the glimmer of a leader walking among his men. I tense. Moments later, Teren appears.

He wears formal robes, a shining coat of white armor under a flowing robe of swirling white and gold patterns. A heavy cloak is pinned over his shoulders and drapes behind him in a long train. The slant of morning light hits the balcony just right—a part of the palace’s intentional design—and illuminates him in brightness.

Then I notice that he brought a prisoner with him. “Oh,” I breathe, my heart seizing.

Two Inquisitors appear, dragging between them a boy with long dark hair, his slender frame weighed down with chains, his head tilted high as Teren now presses a sword against his throat. The boy’s rich scarlet robes are torn and dirty. His face is solemn, but I recognize him immediately.

It’s Raffaele.

It is my fault he’s here.

Teren raises his free arm. “Citizens of Estenzia,” he calls out. “It is with a heavy heart that I deliver this news.” He pauses. “The king is dead. In his place, Her Majesty, Queen Giulietta, will rule. Tomorrow evening, the king’s funeral will take place at the Estenzia arena. You are required to attend.”

He pauses before continuing. “There will be changes to how we deal with traitors and abominations. Her Majesty does not tolerate crimes against the crown.”

If Enzo had succeeded, he would have killed his sister, the queen, too. His nobles would have made their move, offering their support. He could be making his move now. But he won’t. Not with Raffaele held hostage like this. And I realize, suddenly, that this is why Teren, not Giulietta, is addressing the crowd. She knows she has to protect herself.

The king’s death begins to look more and more clear to me.

I look on as Teren tightens his grip on Raffaele. Raffaele winces as the sword digs into the flesh of his neck.

“Kneel,” Teren commands him.

Raffaele does as he’s told. His scarlet robes spill around him in a circle. The energy in my chest lurches painfully.

Teren nods at the crowd. “From this day forth,” he says, “all malfettos are banned from the city. They will be moved to the city’s outskirts and separated from society.”

The crowd’s silence breaks. Gasps. Mumbles. Then, shouts. Violetta and I just look on, our hands joined in fear. What will the Inquisition do to them, once they’re banished to the outskirts?

Teren raises his voice over the chaos. “Anyone who turns in defiant malfettos to the Inquisition will be rewarded with gold. Anyone resisting this order, or found sheltering malfettos, will be executed.”

Can I reach Raffaele? Can any of us? I study the square. It’s impossible to get close enough without drawing attention, and with Teren holding Raffaele’s life by the throat, we can’t afford to slip up. Too many Inquisitors surround the square for me to get anywhere close, especially in my weakened state. We can’t save him here.

Violetta turns her head. A strange, thoughtful expression appears on her face. “There are other Elites out there,” she whispers.

It takes me a moment to remember that her power means she can also do what Raffaele does—she can tell when another Elite is nearby. I glance abruptly at her. “Aside from Teren?”

She nods.

“How many?”

Violetta concentrates for a moment, counting. Finally, she replies, “Four.”

Four. The others are here. Enzo is watching.

Teren scans the crowd as his voice continues to ring out across the square. “Malfettos are a scourge upon our population. They are lower than dogs. Unworthy.” Teren bends down to grab Raffaele by his hair, yanks him back up on his feet, and presses his sword harder against Raffaele’s throat. “People like this are a curse on our country. They are the reason why your lives are miserable. The more malfettos we get rid of, the better off our country will be. The better off you’ll be.” His voice rises. “Do you see this, Reaper?”