The Rose Society (37 page)

Suddenly, a curtain of wind pushes me up out of the water.
Lucent?
No, there is an arm around me, strong and sturdy. It’s Magiano, mimicking her. I see wood debris, then the massive hull of a ship. The queen’s ship. He sends us surging over the side of the ship. His arm wraps tightly around my waist.

We soar over the railing and land hard against the ship’s deck. The impact knocks me down. I roll a few times, then come to a stop. Immediately I try to struggle to my feet. I
fight for air. Nearby, Magiano pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, then leaps to his feet. Soldiers and sailors are everywhere, manning the cannons and firing flaming arrows in the direction of Kenettran ships. My tether trembles. Enzo is already here, crouching on the ship’s deck. Michel is up in the rigging, and Raffaele stands at the bow, his eyes turned right on us.

Another balira soars over our heads. An instant later, Teren lands in a flurry of white armor and robes, his Inquisition cloak fanning all around him in a soaked circle. His eyes glint with the light of insanity, madder than I’ve ever seen.

A curtain of water splashes down on us, and I look up to see Maeve leap from her balira and onto the deck in a graceful crouch. Lucent follows behind her, carried on a curtain of wind.

“Surrender,” Teren shouts at Maeve. “And give your navy the order to retreat.” It is a strange sight, seeing the Inquisition standing with us. Rain drips down Teren’s chin. “Or this bay will be your grave, Your Majesty.”

Maeve laughs. She nods toward the ocean, where Beldish warships continue to push steadily forward. “Does this look like we should surrender, Master Santoro?” she shouts back, her voice raw and harsh. “We’ll sit on your throne by noon.” Then she nods at her youngest brother, and Tristan lunges forward. He moves with terrifying speed. One moment, he is rushing toward us with sword drawn—the next, he has reached Teren and slashes at him with the blade. I’m suddenly reminded of Dante, the Spider, my first kill, and the
memory sends energy rushing through me.
He will cut Teren in half.

But Teren wastes no time. He draws two blades from his belt, lowers his head, and smiles at Tristan. He blocks the prince’s attack—the sound of metal against metal rings out.

Beside me, Magiano whirls and launches into the air. His braids are swept behind his shoulders by gusts of wind, soaked through and glittering with rain and ocean, and in this instant, I do not see a mortal, but the angel of Joy, his wild ecstasy permeating everything around him, his power overwhelming. I can see him taking in a deep breath of air. He is surrounded by Elites. His power has reached its height.

He sends a blast of wind hurtling at Maeve. It knocks her clear off her feet. At the same time, he sends a column of fire racing toward her. Lucent manages to move in time, carrying Maeve on another curtain of wind out of danger—but only barely. Magiano rushes forward at them, daggers drawn, and hurls one at Maeve.

The dagger unwinds before it can ever reach her. It reappears in Michel’s hand.

He sends another dagger hurtling in Raffaele’s direction. This one nearly hits him straight in the throat. Enzo is the one who saves him this time—the prince is a blur of motion, leaping into the path and deflecting the dagger with his own sword. He shoots Magiano a deadly glare. At the same time, Raffaele hurls something in my direction that glints in the darkness. A glass vial. It shatters at my feet.

I jump back just as a creature darts from between the
broken shards. It’s a tiny thing—flesh-colored, with what seems like hundreds of legs. Its jaws seek my feet. I jump again as it lunges forward.

When the creature snaps at me a third time, I stamp on it hard with the heel of my boot. I manage to catch its back half. It writhes, trying to bite me, but I pull out my dagger and stab it, crushing its body against the floorboards.

My energy roars in my ears. The battle all around us has fed me to an uncontrollable level. The color of the ocean around us shifts, turning from dark gray to bright silver and then to a brilliant turquoise, lit from within, the illusions fed by my growing power.

I look up to see Michel, swinging from the rigging toward me. I weave an illusion of pain around him. He shudders for an instant—but then I feel him push back with his own strength.
He is an artist. He taught me illusions.
And now he seems able to see through mine.

“You
monster
!” he shouts at me. And I know from the pain in his voice that he has already learned of Gemma’s death.

Magiano lands near the helm. He points a dagger up at Michel. The rigging rope Michel is swinging from suddenly unwinds, vanishing, only to reappear on the deck’s floor. Michel’s swing turns into a fall. He plunges towards the deck. Lucent catches him at the last second.

In anger, I lash out toward Lucent with all my strength. My gaze flicks to her hurt wrist—I focus on that, weaving an illusion that increases her pain tenfold. Lucent falls, uttering an anguished cry.

Maeve leaps down between us, and my illusion wavers for a moment from the distraction. The queen’s glare is one of ice and fury. She draws her sword and her gaze intensifies. “
Leave her,
” she snaps, then rushes toward me.

Sergio’s blade saves me—he appears from nowhere and meets the queen mid-swing. I stagger backward, then look up at the sky. There, Violetta continues to circle on the balira’s back. She meets my stare for an instant.

The distant boom of cannons distracts all of us. The Beldish warships have drawn closer, and Beldish soldiers have us surrounded. Maeve leaps away from Sergio suddenly and calls down at Teren.

“You are outnumbered!” Her eyes fix on me. “The Beldish do not believe in abominations,” she says to me. “We revere your
malfettos
in the Skylands. You are an Elite, the children of the gods. Just like me. There is no reason for us to fight.”

A long time ago, I might have listened to that. Not an abomination. An Elite. But I am the White Wolf, and I am too powerful to be swayed by the Beldish queen’s words. I look up at her, suddenly disgusted by her olive branch. What a trick. She doesn’t want peace—she nearly killed me. She wants to
win
, and she will take over Kenettra under the disguise of friendship. Not all Elites are the same. Not all Elites can be allies.

I don’t answer her. Instead, I tilt my head in Enzo’s direction. “Enzo,” I shout. My power surges with his.

“He will not bow to you, White Wolf,” Maeve barks at me.
Still, I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “He knows the truth. He is one of the Daggers, one of
us
now.”

Not if I can help it,
I think, clenching my jaw. Through our tether, I reach out with my threads of energy and seek out his heart.
I
will
control you.

Enzo approaches me. Daggers are in both of his gloved hands, and his face is a mask of anger. “You are a traitor, Adelina,” he growls.

My strength wavers under his words. My heart—my bond, I can no longer tell the difference—cries for his nearness, yearns for him. “I kept myself alive,” I call out over the chaos.

“You kept so many lies,” Enzo seethes.

The energy of the tether between Enzo and myself now shifts, pivoting the balance of power. The tendrils of my energy that had been wrapped so securely around Enzo’s heart a moment earlier now start to loosen. Something pushes back against it. I claw for control, but suddenly Enzo’s energy surges back at me, seeking
my
heart. It is the same surge I’d felt when he’d first returned, when we were alone together and his strength overwhelmed mine.

“I
love
you,” I cry out at him. “I didn’t want to see an enemy nation use you for their own gain. They are taking your throne—can you not see that? Your Daggers are traitors!”

I stop when Enzo’s power hits me again through the tether. It makes me cringe in pain. His fists tighten. An anguished expression haunts his face. “You nearly killed Raffaele at the arena,” he shouts back. “You killed Gemma.
Are you not using others for your own gain? Your new Elites? This war, your aim for the throne? Me?” His voice breaks a little, and beneath his rage is a deep pain. “How could you?”

His words stir the whispers in my mind. They are angry now, and so am I. “And who did I learn that from?” I snap. “
Who taught me to use others for my own gain?
”

Enzo’s eyes fill again, pooling with darkness. “I loved you once,” he shouts. “But had I known what you did to Raffaele in the arena—had I known what you’d do to Gemma, I would have killed you myself when I had the chance.”

The words stab me, one by one. I feel a wave of grief, even as my anger continues to beat against my heart. How easily he turns away from me. How quickly he forgives his own Daggers’ betrayals. I grit my teeth through my tears. “
I’d like to see you try!
”

Enzo’s eyes are fully black now. I feel his energy overpowering mine, wrapping me in heat. I try to move my limbs, but I can’t.
No.

He lunges at me.

I fling my illusions at him, wrapping him in a net. He staggers backward for an instant, clawing at his face—he thinks there is a white-hot blade stabbing him in the eyes. But somehow, through our link, Enzo is able to discern which threads are real and which are illusion. He pushes it aside. Then he shakes his head, fixes his eyes on me again, and sends fire searing toward me.

Enzo, no.
I throw my hands up and scream. So, after
everything, this is how I will die—burned alive, the way I should have gone all along.

The flames sear my skin. But then, an instant later, an ice-cold blast of rain strikes me hard, quenching the fire. The force of the wave knocks me to my knees. When I look up, Sergio clings to the back of a balira right over our heads, the creature’s enormous wings spraying water across the deck as it turns in a spiral.

Enzo looks up too. His moment of distraction is all that I need. I take the opportunity to reach out and hurl my threads of energy through our tether. Enzo winces as my claws rake back into place, returning control into my hands. Enzo shudders. He fights me once more, but then stops. I fall to my knees on the deck, breathing hard. Nearby, Enzo crouches onto one knee too. His head is bowed. We are both exhausted.

“You live because
I say so
,” I hiss, my teeth clenched together. My rage builds, filling every corner of my body. I can no longer see the boy I once loved. I can hardly see anything at all. The whispers take over, wrenching away my control over myself. My voice is no longer mine, but theirs. “And you will
do as I command
.”

Once more, I reach through our bond and pull hard.

Set this world on fire, Enzo. With everything you have.

Enzo turns his head to the sky. He takes a deep, ragged gasp of breath.

Raffaele steps forward. “No!” he calls out, but it’s too late.

Fire explodes from Enzo’s hands.

It leaps over the railing of our ship and races across the water in all directions. The closest ring of warships catches fire instantly. From each of them, the flames radiate out, one ring expanding after another, setting alight the honeycomb of ships. Every Elite on board our ship freezes to watch it unfold. Screams echo from the burning ships.

Enzo’s power flows endlessly, engulfing everything in its wake. Explosions deafen us as the fire finds cannons on board the ships. The blasts throw us all to our knees. I can feel the tremor of it through the deck’s wood. Farther and farther burns Enzo’s fire, until all of the Beldish warships are ablaze, connected to one another by lines of fire as far as the eye can see. The flames lick high into the sky. I lift my head and let the rain fall on me, soaking in the feeling of his darkness. I am taken back to the night at the Spring Moons, so long ago, when the Daggers had set the Estenzian harbor on fire.

Finally, Enzo lowers his head. His shoulders hunch, and he falls to his knees. He lets out a moan, and when I look closer, I realize that the horrible burns that have always plagued his hands are now as high as his elbows, his skin destroyed, crisped black. His eyes remain dark pools, and a small ring of fire still encircles him.

All around us, the Beldish warships burn. Maeve looks on, stricken with disbelief. It is the first time I have ever seen her stunned into silence.

Teren motions his Inquisitors forward. A triumphant smile is on his face. It takes me a moment to realize that
perhaps he thinks I did all this
for him
. “I want her head!” he commands, pointing his sword at Maeve.

But the Beldish queen is already on the move. Lucent exchanges a quick look with her, then calls a curtain of wind to send her soaring into the sky. One of her brothers flies by. He reaches out for her arm, grasps it, and then pulls her up onto the back of his balira.

But my eyes are fixed on Raffaele. He walks toward where Enzo stands, the prince’s eyes still liquid dark, his face frozen in fury, the ring of fire burning near his feet. I don’t know why I pause to watch Raffaele. Perhaps I have always done so, so captivated am I by his beauty. Even now, in the midst of death and destruction, he moves with the grace of someone not of this world. His attention is focused entirely on Enzo. The sight breaks my heart, and a small, lost part of me sparks with light.

Raffaele reaches Enzo. Flames still burn on Enzo’s hands, but for some reason, he doesn’t move to attack. Instead, he waits as Raffaele reaches up to curl a hand around the back of his neck, then pulls him close so that their foreheads touch. Tears streak Raffaele’s face. Suddenly I remember how he had looked on the day he turned his back on me, the way he had closed his eyes when I begged him to let me stay. It is the same expression he wears now.

Enzo narrows his eyes. He moves as if to grab Raffaele’s wrist with his burning hands, to burn him alive from the inside out.

“Don’t,” Raffaele whispers to Enzo. And even though
Enzo’s eyes stay black, Raffaele does not flinch away. He remains where he is, surrounded by fire.