The Rose Society

by Marie Lu

  The Inquisitor standing in front of us looks up and draws his blade. In doing so, he bumps Violetta hard. Violetta stumbles back with a grunt—it is all the Inquisitor needs to look sharply back at us. He narrows his eyes. Then he lifts his sword to chop at the air in the closet. At us.

  Thoughts flash through my mind like lightning. I could just stop this Inquisitor and save Violetta and myself. If we flee this ship without uttering a sound, we could leave Sergio, his crew, and Magiano to handle the Inquisition. When we dock, we could simply sneak off the ship and make our way undetected into the city. Forget about my newfound Elites and protect ourselves.

  But instead, I clench my teeth. Sergio is one of mine now. And if I hope to have allies at my back, I’ll have to stand up for them.

  Violetta shoots me a wide-eyed look as the Inquisitor’s blade flies toward us. That is all the encouragement I need to unleash my energy.

  The Inquisitor suddenly stops his attack in midair. His eyes bulge. He trembles, then opens his mouth into a silent scream as I reach for him and weave around him the illusion of a thousand threads of pain. His sword clatters to the floor as he falls to his knees. I erase our invisibility—I see the shock in his eyes as we suddenly appear before him.

  Violetta crouches down to grab the sword. As she points it at him with shaking hands, I turn my attention to the standoff above us. My energy whips out at the Inquisitors there. The threads latch on to them, painting the illusion of hooks digging deep into their skin, yanking them down into the ground and beyond.

  They scream in unison. Sergio seems stricken for a split second—but then he snaps out of it right away. He hops over their writhing bodies and attacks the closest Inquisitor who has headed down the passageway at him. The clang of blades rings out. Magiano crouches down to the fallen Inquisitors and starts to tie their hands as quickly as he can.

  “Let’s go,” I say through gritted teeth. We step out of our hiding place. The Inquisitor on the ground makes a weak attempt to grab Violetta’s ankles, but she yanks herself out of the way, then turns the sword around in her hands and brings the hilt of it down on the soldier’s jaw. He goes limp.

  “Nicely done,” I say, giving my sister a tight smile. A year ago, I would never have expected her to be bold enough for that. Violetta takes a deep breath and gives me an anxious look.

  We hurry out of the cabin and into the dark corridor, then up the steps leading to the next level. When we finally reach the others, I skid to a halt. Several of the crew are inspecting the Inquisitors tied up on the ground, while Sergio and another man are securing bonds on another one. He looks up at us. There is wariness in his eyes as he regards me.

  “I never witnessed what you did to the Night King,” Sergio says. “But I saw the looks on these Inquisitors’ faces when you attacked them. That was you, wasn’t it? What did you do?”

  I swallow, then explain what my illusion over them had been. My voice is calm and steady.

  The other crewmember helping Sergio now looks at me. “We were all a bit skeptical of you when you first came on board.” He regards me carefully. “I’ve never seen such fright on grown men’s faces.”

  This must be one of Sergio’s fellow mercenaries. I nod, returning his stare, unsure of what it means. Now I notice that several of the others are staring at me too, as if seeing me for the first time. I glance around, searching their expressions, then let myself dwell on the Inquisitors moaning on the ground. If they hadn’t recognized me earlier, they all seem to know who I am now. My gaze shifts from one to the next, settling finally on the one lying closest to me, a young soldier who still has some bewildered innocence left in his eyes. My energy feeds on their fear, strengthening and replenishing itself.

  If the Inquisition is searching Campagnia like this, they must have expanded their efforts out from Estenzia. Does that mean Teren will be here, looking for us too? Does that mean that he is starting to round up all malfettos here?

  “Where’s Magiano?” I finally say.

  Sergio nods to the ladder. He waves for us to follow him. We make our way up the ladder and onto the deck of the ship, where Magiano is waiting for us. The Campagnia harbor draws close, while behind us, the Inquisition’s ship stays where it is, quiet.

  Magiano has his hands tucked into his pockets. When he hears us approach, he leans toward me and gives a casual nod toward land. “We will continue to sail into harbor,” he says, “and leave the Inquisition’s ship to drift at sea. By the time anyone onshore figures out that something has gone wrong, we’ll have long dispersed into the city.”

  “What about the Inquisitors tied up below?” Violetta asks.

  Magiano exchanges a glance with Sergio, then looks at me. His eyes are serious for a moment. “Yes, what should we do about them?” he asks. “No matter what, we’ll undoubtedly bring the Inquisition’s wrath down on us. They’ll hunt us relentlessly.”

  His words ring in my mind, echoing in the wrong way, and the echo awakens the whispers in my mind again. I can feel their little claws against my consciousness, eager to hear my answer. Down below, I can hear some of the Inquisitors still moaning and struggling. It sounds as if they are ready to beg for their lives. Without answering Magiano, I walk back over to the ladder leading down and stare into the shadows.

  At first, I think I’ll spare them.

  But then the whispers say, Why worry about the Inquisition’s wrath? You came back to this country to exact your revenge on them. You shouldn’t be the one to fear them anymore. They should fear you.

  There is a moment of heavy silence. Magiano watches me with an unreadable expression. I think back to the Inquisitors’ faces. Some of them had cringed away from me, while others had tears streaking their cheeks. Their white uniforms all blend into one in my thoughts. All I can see are the same men who had once so unceremoniously tied me to the stake and thrown fire at my feet. How many have they killed? How many will they go on to kill?

  Strike first.

  And with that, a dark cloud starts to fill my insides again, and my heart hardens. I look at Magiano. “I’m not afraid of the Inquisition,” I say. Then I nod at Sergio. “Tell your men to kill them. Make it quick and clean.” Violetta shoots me a sharp glance. I wait, perhaps defiantly, for her to say something against my decision . . . but she doesn’t. She swallows hard and looks down. After a while, she nods her agreement. As I talk, I can hear the whispers saying the words with me, so we are in chorus. Their voices remind me of my father’s.

  “Let the youngest one live,” I finish. “When the Inquisition finds him, he can tell them who did this, and how I made them feel.”

  Magiano’s eyes slit a little at me. There’s something admiring in his gaze that mingles with something . . . unsettled. I can’t quite figure out the expression. He glances back at the nearing harbor. He lets out a sigh, then leaves us to walk toward the bow.

  Sergio is still smiling. “In that case, we’d better be careful in Campagnia. You have taken on a challenging adversary.”

  “And are you and your men going to help us take on that adversary?” I ask.

  It’s the question that has been lingering between us since we stepped on board this ship. Sergio looks at me, then around at some of the other crew on deck. Finally, he leans over. “We help whoever can get us the most gold,” he whispers. “And right now, that’s you, isn’t it?”

  That is a yes. Something soars in my chest. I don’t want to ask what happens if we fail to take the throne and overthrow the Inquisition. Instead, I decide to revel in his words. I turn my back as Sergio walks over to the ladder and shouts a command down to the other mercenaries. The Inquisitors below let out muffled sobs behind their bonds. Their fear bubbles up to the deck in a thick cloud. It makes me tremble.

  Then, the sound of blades against skin, the gush of blood.

  The whispers cheer in my head. I keep my mind on the burning stake, the ma
lfettos I’ve seen suffering right in front of Inquisitors who turn a bored eye, the breaking glass and screaming people. I should feel some sense of disgust, some recoil or horror at the thought of the carnage down below. But I don’t, not for those Inquisitors.

  I strike first from now on.

  We watch in silence as the harbor approaches, until our hull bumps dully against the piers and a worker on the ground ties us in. He casts a glance over at the quiet Inquisition ship behind us, but he doesn’t act on it. Instead, our crew prepares the gangplank, and we gather near the railing. Down on the harbor’s main street, clusters of Inquisitors cut lines through bustling crowds. I wonder how long they will take before they investigate the floating ship.

  As the crew haul crates down the gangplank and hook up thick ropes to hoist larger cargo, we follow Magiano and Sergio off the ship. “This is exactly why I left this forsaken country in the first place,” Magiano mutters to me as we go. He still seems like he is in an odd mood. “Damn Inquisition, always swarming about. Come on. And keep your face disguised.”

  I straighten my head wrap and check Violetta’s, then strengthen the illusion over my face. It’s not hard to blend in with the throngs wandering the harbor. I keep a steady illusion over my face, and my hair stays hidden inside its wrap. Behind us, several other crewmembers also make their way off the ship and scatter into the crowds. I watch them go. I recognize a few of their faces now, men I saw tying up the Inquisitors on the ship. I also see the man who had spoken briefly to me on board. All mercenaries. All loyal to me. For now.

  Dead men belowdecks, sightless eyes, bloody chests. The whispers excitedly remind me of what had happened on the ship. Dead men, dead men.

  Violetta makes a small sound, breaking my stream of thoughts. When I look at her, her brow has tensed. She starts to drag her feet, as if something had caught her interest. I frown, then look into the crowd.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Violetta just nods silently into the milling people.

  It takes me another second to spot what she’s noticed. Not far from us, walking along the edge of the street, is a girl I recognize. She seems like she’s in a hurry. Still, even in her rush, she pauses to smile and pet a stray dog. The dog starts to follow her.

  “Gemma?” I whisper to myself.

  The Daggers are here.

  And so they huddled together, waiting, hoping for a savior that would never come.

  —Tides of a Midwinter War, by Constanze De Witte

  Adelina Amouteru

  Already, I’m starting to lose her in the crowded street. A traveling cloak hides the top half of her face, and her figure is almost lost amid the horses and wagons.

  “That girl,” I murmur to Magiano. I tilt my head in Gemma’s direction. “She’s one of the Daggers. I know it.”

  “Are you sure?” Magiano gives me a skeptical look.

  “Adelina’s right,” Sergio interrupts, his eyes following Gemma down the street. We look on as she stops to talk to one of the sailors from a ship. “That’s the Star Thief.”

  I start to move. “If they’re here, I want to know what they’re up to. I’m going to follow her. Don’t let her know we’re here.”

  Ahead of us, Gemma reaches the end of the harbor and turns onto a winding street. Sergio leans close to us, his eyes fixed on her as if she’d vanish any second. “We’ll trail her,” he says to me in a low voice. “I’d like to see what those Daggers are up to here.” I expect him to start pushing his way through the crowd without hearing my reply—but to my surprise, he looks at me expectantly.

  It takes me a moment to realize that he’s waiting for my approval. “Yes,” I reply, stumbling over the word.

  It is all he needs to hear. He exchanges glances with a couple of the other crew from the ship, those who must be his fellow mercenaries.

  “Count me as curious too,” Magiano mutters, then nods once at me before vanishing into the crowd.

  Violetta leans over to me. “Look,” she says, subtly motioning to the general direction where Gemma is heading. “The sailor we just saw her talking to. He’s heading that way as well.”

  My sister’s right. I pick out the back of his head among the people. He smiles and laughs at a few children that cross his path, but there’s no doubt about it—he must be following Gemma too.

  I touch Violetta’s arm. “Don’t stay too close,” I say as I start walking. I weave a subtle illusion over her face, changing her features enough to make her unrecognizable should Gemma ever look back.

  Off in the crowd, Magiano flickers in and out of sight. When I look to my right, Sergio’s hair peeks out from the throngs. We move together, unorganized yet coordinated. I’m reminded of the first time I ever saw the Daggers go on a mission—and a ripple of excitement runs down my spine.

  We head down the same street that Gemma entered. As we do, I see her turn around to look down at the dog still trailing faithfully behind her. She smiles, bends down, and rubs its ears. Even though I know her power, I’m somehow still surprised to see the dog turn obediently around, as if led by an invisible hand, and walk away from her without another backward glance. I slide between two clusters of people and look on, awed for a moment. There is something quiet and warm about this tiny, temporary bond between the girl and the dog. What must it feel like to harness joy and love, instead of fear and hate? What kind of light does that cast?

  I lose her a few times in the thick of the crowds. She makes her way out of the busy sections of the port, then heads up a small hill to what looks like a tiny tavern at the end of a street. I look behind me, wondering where Magiano and Sergio are. Violetta walks several paces behind me, stopping now and then to weave her way through pockets of people.

  Finally, up ahead, Gemma turns where the tavern’s main entrance is. She doesn’t try to go through the front—instead, she steps into a side street and disappears from view. I hurry along, trying to stay in the shadows along the edges of the buildings. Not many people wander here. No Inquisitors to be seen. I wait until I’m fairly alone on the street, and then I wrap myself in threads of energy. I blend into the shadows, and then I become the shadows, until no one notices my invisible figure heading up to the tavern.

  I turn onto the street where I saw Gemma go, then stop at the corner to watch.

  She’s standing at a back entrance of the tavern with several others, a space so narrow and shadowed that no one would think to turn back here. I recognize Lucent immediately—her copper curls are tied back into a bushy tail, and she has a frown on her face. Michel is there, but Raffaele is not, and a bald boy I don’t recognize is talking in low voices with Gemma. The sailor we saw down at the pier is here too, along with a couple of others. Are these new Dagger recruits? It seems as if everyone has gathered here to wait for Gemma. I make sure my invisibility is intact, and then I walk forward. I keep going until their voices drift to me and I can understand what they’re saying.

  Gemma’s voice comes to me first. She’s arguing with Lucent. “At least Raffaele is safely there,” she says.

  Lucent lifts a brow and shakes her head, as if this were the first time she’s hearing the news. “He’s going to get himself killed,” Lucent replies, “the instant they leave him alone with Teren. Why couldn’t we have just asked for an audience directly with the queen?”

  I hold my breath. Raffaele is back in the Estenzian palace, by his own choice? What are they planning now?

  “Giulietta would never hold an audience with us and risk her life,” Gemma says. “Trust your queen, Lucent—Maeve knows what she’s doing. Giulietta will be forced to dine with her and celebrate her arrival, which should give Raffaele time to deliver what he wants to say.”

  Maeve. Queen. I think back, remembering after a moment that Lucent is originally from Beldain. If Maeve is her queen, then Maeve must be the Queen of Beldain. Beldain is working with the Daggers.


  “Maeve will act in three nights’ time,” Gemma now says. “That’s when the festivities will end in a night of raucous performances. It will help to hide what we’re doing.”

  “She will make her way to the arena at midnight,” Lucent says to the others whom I don’t recognize. “She needs to be in the exact place where he died. During the process, she will be entirely defenseless. We have to make sure she is safe and untouched.”

  Lucent’s words send a prickle down my spine. The exact place where he died. What is she talking about?

  “We’ll ensure it,” the men reply. I wonder whether they are Queen Maeve’s own soldiers in disguise.

  “And Raffaele must be there, yes?” asks another.

  Gemma nods. “Yes. The dead cannot exist in this world on their own. Enzo must be bound to someone in order to have the strength to live again. Maeve already has her brother bound to her. She will bind Enzo to Raffaele.”

  Enzo.

  Suddenly, I can’t seem to catch my breath. The world shifts around me, and my invisibility is in danger of flickering out. I struggle to hang on to it, then stumble back until I hit the edge of the tavern wall. I must not have heard Gemma say the name correctly—this must be some misunderstanding, a different name. It cannot be Prince Enzo. My Enzo.

  The bald boy shakes his head and gives Gemma an apologetic look. “I don’t understand. Raffaele never informed me of this. Why are we bringing him back?”

  Lucent shoots him an annoyed glare, but Gemma gives him a pat on his shoulder. “You are a new Dagger,” she replies. “You’ll be brought up to speed soon enough. Kenettra lost a leader when Prince Enzo died at the hands of the Lead Inquisitor. Maeve had counted on him to be the one to bring trade and prosperity flowing again between our two nations. When she brought her little brother back from the Underworld, he returned with strength unheard of in mortal men. If she can also bring back Enzo—an Elite—he may return with his powers strengthened in ways we cannot even fathom. She can place him back on the throne, where he belongs, as her Kenettran ambassador.”