The Rose Society (24 page)

Behind us, Magiano leaps out of their boat to attack the second Inquisitor.

The first Inquisitor clutches his chest and falls to his knees. He reaches for the sword on the ground, but I grab it first. As I move, I catch a glimpse of Violetta’s face. Her lips are set in a grim line. I half expect her to cower in the darkness, or reach out with her powers to stop me, but instead, she stoops down and grabs the Inquisitor’s cloak. She yanks it, forcing him to topple backward. He gasps in pain.

The world around me closes in—for a moment, all I can see is midnight and my victim. I grit my teeth, lift his sword, and plunge it into his chest.

The man trembles on the blade. Blood sprays from his mouth. I glance to my side to see Sergio with his arm wrapped tightly around the second Inquisitor’s throat. Sergio squeezes hard. His Inquisitor’s arms grapple frantically for him, but Sergio hangs grimly on. I breathe in the terror of the struggling man.

The Inquisitor I stabbed stops trembling. I close my eye, lift my head, and take a deep breath. The metallic scent of blood fills the air, mixing with the wetness of the rain—it is all so familiar. When I open my eye again, I’m no longer looking down at the Inquisitor. I’m looking down at my father’s ruined corpse, his ribs smashed in by his horse’s hooves, his blood staining the cobblestones—

And I’m not horrified. I look at it, indulging in the darkness around me, feeding me, strengthening me, and I realize that I’m happy I killed him. Truly happy.

A hand touches my shoulder. My face jerks around to see who it is, and my energy surges, eager to hurt again.

Violetta jumps back. “It’s me,” she says. She holds a palm out, as if that might stop me. Her own power touches mine, and I can feel it pushing me back hesitantly, threatening to take my power away. “It’s me, it’s me.”

The snarl gradually fades from my lips. I look back down at the body before me, now no longer my father but the Inquisitor I killed. Magiano and Sergio hurry to my side, leaving
their Inquisitor lying lifeless in the shadows. Violetta stares at the two dead men. Her expression is numb.

My moment of bloodlust has passed, but the darkness it brought lingers, feeding the little whispers in my head that have suddenly become deafening.
Quiet,
I hiss back at them, until I realize I say the word out loud.

“We’d better move. Now.” Magiano glances over his shoulder, then hops over the Inquisitor’s body to glance down both sides of the canal. “We won’t be alone here for long.”

I pull myself up to my feet. I wash my hands in the rising waters of the canal. Then I hurry after them. Up in the pouring sky, a haunting cry echoes over the city, followed shortly by another. A pair of baliras are passing over the city, although in the night, all I can see are their silhouettes, their massive, translucent wings covering up the sky. If Gemma were with us, she could have gotten us onto their backs—we could have flown over the city and found a way down somewhere. I could have avoided killing those two men. It’s not that I wanted them dead, after all. It’s that we had no other way. I repeat this over and over again to myself. Had it been this easy for me, when I ended Dante’s life? When I killed the Night King? When I watched Enzo die? When I nodded my approval to Sergio to execute the Inquisitors on the ship?

No.
But this time, it was.

I look at my Roses, then step forward so that I lead the way. I start to weave a curtain of invisibility over us again. As
the baliras pass overhead, I turn us in the direction of the Estenzian palace. My thoughts transition from the Inquisitors’ deaths to the task before us. If the Beldish queen makes her move tonight, then I have to find Raffaele before she does.

Already, I’m starting to forget the face of the man I killed.

Raffaele Laurent Bessette

It takes another week before Queen Giulietta sends for him again. This time, when he visits her private chambers, Teren and several of his guard stand outside the doors instead of within. Raffaele looks briefly at him as he walks past. The energy churning in Teren is black with rage and jealousy, and the feeling makes Raffaele dizzy. He turns his eyes back down, but he can still feel the Lead Inquisitor’s stare burning into his back as the chamber doors open and close for him.

Inside the chambers, Inquisitors still line the walls. Queen Giulietta sits at the edge of her bed, her hair down in long, dark waves, her hands folded neatly into her lap. The sheer drapes hanging on each side of the bed are also down tonight, half drawn in anticipation of sleep. She watches him as the soldiers guide him into the center of the chamber, then
leave him to stand there alone. He hesitates, then steps closer and lowers himself into a kneel before her.

For a moment, neither of them says anything.
The queen’s emotions are different tonight,
Raffaele thinks. Calmer, less suspicious, more calculating.
She wants something.

“They say that you were the greatest consort ever to grace the courts of Kenettra,” Giulietta finally says. “You fetched a virgin price that had the courts talking for weeks.” She leans back on her arms and regards him thoughtfully. “I’ve also heard that you are something of a scholar, that your patrons frequently gifted you books and quills.”

Raffaele nods. “I am, Your Majesty.”

Giulietta’s lips curve into a smile. When he looks up at her, she motions for him to rise. “You certainly look and speak as beautifully as they say.” She straightens then, and approaches him. Raffaele stays very still as she draws near. Her fingers go up to the gold string near the collar of his robes, then tugs it loose, exposing a bit of his skin.

Raffaele’s eyes dart to the Inquisitors lining the walls, their crossbows still fixed on him. When Giulietta sits down on the edge of the bed again and pats the spot beside her, he steps closer. “I’ve already told you what I wish for, Your Majesty,” he says in a gentle voice. “Tell me, then, what
you
desire. What can I do for you?”

Giulietta smiles again as she lays her head down on her pillow. “You say that if I grant mercy to all
malfettos
, you and your Daggers will do my bidding as a part of my army.”
Giulietta nods. “I’ve decided I will grant you that, as long as I am satisfied with what you can do. Tomorrow, I will order my Inquisitors to begin bringing our
malfettos
back into the city. In return, I want you to summon your Daggers. And I want you to fulfill your end of the bargain.” Her stare hardens for a moment. “Remember that I can easily bring my wrath down on the
malfettos
of this city if you fail to follow through on your word.”

Raffaele’s smile returns. So, it is as he suspected. Giulietta’s “hatred” for the
malfettos
is not the same as Teren’s. Teren despises
malfettos
because he believes them to be demons. Evil, cursed. But Giulietta … Giulietta despises
malfettos
only when they are in her way. She will use them as much as they can benefit her.
Very good.
He bows his head in a perfect imitation of submission. “Then we are yours to command.”

Giulietta nods at his expression. She stretches out on her bed and looks at him through a halo of dark curls. As beautiful as Enzo was handsome. Raffaele sees for a moment what must have drawn Teren to her. It is hard to believe that, behind the dark lashes and small, sweet, rosy mouth, is a princess who had once tried—even as a child—to poison her brother.

“Well, my consort,” she murmurs. “Prove your reputation to me.”

In the early hours before dawn, Raffaele emerges from the queen’s chambers and into the long shadows of the hall.
Inquisitors still stand guard on either side of the door, and two of them move away to walk alongside him.

“The queen has ordered you moved to more comfortable quarters,” one of the Inquisitors says as they walk.

Raffaele nods, but his eyes stay on the shadows in the hall. Teren is still here—he can feel his Elite energy seething in the darkness, waiting for him to approach. Raffaele slows his walk. Although the shadows cover nearly everything, he can sense that Teren must be standing just a few feet away.

He will attack you.
Raffaele’s instincts suddenly flare up—he knew this would happen. He whirls in the direction of the queen’s chambers, then calls out, “Your Majesty!”

It’s all he manages to say before a blur of white materializes from the shadows and seizes him by the collar of his robe. Raffaele feels himself lifted nearly off his feet—his back slams so hard against the wall that the impact knocks all the breath from his chest. Stars explode across his vision. Somewhere comes the sound of a blade through air, and an instant later, cold metal presses hard against his throat. A hand clamps over his mouth.

Teren’s face comes into focus before him. His pale irises seem to pulse in the darkness. “Pretty little peacock,” he snarls as Raffaele struggles for breath. He gestures for the other two Inquisitors to pin him against the wall. “What lies did you tell the queen this time? What demonic spells are you weaving?”

Raffaele returns Teren’s glare with his own quiet one. “I am no more a demon than you are.”

Teren’s gaze hardens. “Let’s see how often the queen will ask for you after I carve the skin off your face.”

Raffaele smiles back. His smile is sharp, a blade of silk and grace. “You fear me more than I fear you.”

Teren’s eyes flash. He nods to the Inquisitors to hold him tightly, and then he hoists his dagger higher. He smiles in a way that prickles Raffaele’s skin.

“
Stop.
”

The queen’s command rings out sharply down the hall, and Teren freezes. Raffaele turns to see Giulietta heading out of her chambers with soldiers at her back, her face cold and distant. She narrows her eyes at Teren. Immediately, the two Inquisitors pinning Raffaele to the wall release him, and everyone falls into a hurried kneel. Raffaele gulps as pain continues to lance down his back.

“Your solution to everything, Master Santoro,” she says when she reaches them, “is to bite.”

He opens his mouth as she approaches him, but before he can say anything, Giulietta reaches out for the gold clasp holding his Inquisition cloak in place. She flicks the clasp open, then gives the cloak one vicious yank. The cloak falls from his shoulders, pooling at his feet.

The sign of a demotion.

Teren’s eyes snap open in shock. “Your Majesty—” he begins.

Giulietta just gives him an icy look. “I warned you what would happen if you ever ignored my commands again.”

“But I—”

“I ordered Raffaele to be taken back to his new chambers. Why did you disobey me?”

Teren bows his head in what looks like shame. “Your Majesty,” he replies. “I apologize. I—”

“I’ve heard enough of your apologies,” Giulietta interrupts. She folds her arms. “When dawn arrives, you are to take a patrol and report to the southern cities immediately.”

“You …,” Teren says, his words trailing off as realization hits him. “You are sending me away? Out of Estenzia?”

Giulietta arches an eyebrow at him. “You are asking me to repeat myself?” she says.

“Your Majesty, please.” Teren takes a step closer to her. “Everything I do—
everything
I have ever done—is to protect your crown. You are the one true queen. There are times I may act rashly, and I deserve to be punished, but I do it in the name of the crown.”

“I expect you to relinquish your quarters and your armor by tomorrow.” Giulietta gives him a look of disinterest. This, Raffaele thinks, more than anything, makes Teren wince. “You will set out with several patrols by tomorrow evening, to secure my rule in the south. If you truly care for me, you will obey this order. Do you understand?”

Teren’s voice hardens. “Your Majesty,” he says. “I am your best fighter. I am your
champion
.”

“You are useless if you ignore my commands.”

Teren grabs Giulietta’s hands. His voice lowers, turns tender. “Giulietta,” he murmurs. Raffaele watches in fascination. Addressing the queen by name? He has heard plenty
about their affair, but this is the first time he has ever seen it on display. Teren bends down toward her, close enough for his lips to brush her cheek. “You will kill me if you send me away.”

Giulietta turns her face and pulls away, separating herself from him. She tilts her chin up. Her eyes are ice cold. Raffaele watches Teren’s expressions shift on his face. The young Inquisitor is realizing, for the first time, that he may be unable to sway her mind. Teren stares at Raffaele, then turns desperately to Giulietta.

“I
love
you,” he suddenly says, his voice urgent. “I’ve loved you since I was a boy. I would kill a thousand men for you.”

“I don’t need you to kill a thousand men, Master Santoro,” Giulietta says. “I need you to listen to me.” She gives him a look that borders on pity. “But you were always an abomination. You always knew, Master Santoro, that this could never last.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Teren snaps, pointing in Raffaele’s direction. “He has hypnotized you. It is his
power
, don’t you understand?”