by Marie Lu
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.
Enzo’s eyes flicker. He blinks at Raffaele, confused, and then lowers his face toward him. Raffaele leans forward, closes his eyes, and rests his head against Enzo’s shoulder. I do not need to touch them to know that Raffaele’s energy is coursing through Enzo now, healing and soothing, calming, pushing against the fury of his own.
For a moment, Raffaele looks at me. His jewel-toned eyes are breathtaking in the light of the fire.
“Don’t,” he says again, this time to me.
Teren snarls. He steps forward now, ready to lunge for Raffaele.
“Violetta!” I scream. And up in the air, she answers. She reaches out and pulls.
Teren lets out a shriek as his power vanishes and Violetta takes over. I pull grimly. The threads of darkness tighten around him, strangling his nerves and making them scream. I pull as hard as I can, trying to redo what I did to Dante. To someone who deserves to die. The whispers take full control. “You do not command me,” I snap. Teren shudders on the floor of the ship as the battle rages on behind us.
My attention turns to Raffaele for a moment. There is no fear in him for what I could do. Not even after the way I’d tortured him at the arena. All I feel from him is sadness and, beneath it, a firm resolve.
“If justice is what you seek, Adelina,” he says, “you will not find it like this.”
I feel my own resolve waver. How can I find in my heart the coldness that I need for all else, but I cannot bring myself to move against Raffaele? Against the other Daggers? How does he soften my heart, after all he has done to me? I realize that I am crying now, too, and I don’t bother to wipe my tears away. As Teren writhes on the floor beside me, Raffaele takes Enzo’s hand and pulls him toward a balira. I don’t have the strength to reach out and stop them. All I can do is look on.
Teren struggles to his feet on the deck. I’m forced to tear my gaze away from Raffaele and Enzo. Violetta continues to hold Teren’s powers at bay, but he still manages to give me a glare full of hatred. “I’m going to cut you open, little wolf,” he snarls.
He attacks me. I barely manage to avoid his sword—he swings past my shoulder by a hair, then whirls in midair to send the blade cutting back toward me. I dart away. My hands clench into fists, and with my powers heightened, I fling an illusion across the entire harbor, making the water churn as if boiling. Then I look back at him and tighten my threads of energy as harshly as I can.
At this level of pain, Dante had already turned delirious. But Teren is still able to look at me. I blink, taken aback for a moment by how much he can withstand—even without his powers.
“Kill her,” he chokes to his Inquisitors. “Now!”
The Inquisition draws swords against me, but I am not afraid of them anymore. They are done being useful to me. Sergio steps forward, taking over the scene. He whips out two daggers at his belt and throws them with punishing speed. Each lodges in the chest of a soldier. Magiano mimics Enzo’s power, sending tall lines of flames surging toward a dozen others. They alight like fresh tinder in a fire. The men scream as their armor heats instantly from the flames, burning them alive. I watch the scene, letting my revenge happen.
“Stop!” I command.
Dead Inquisitors litter the deck. Those who are still alive cower as I approach. Teren stays where he is. Violetta has released his powers already, but he is still recovering from the pain I wrought upon him. I look on as he coughs, pushing weakly against the floor in an attempt to sit up. Then I glance at the surviving Inquisitors.
“You have hunted me and tortured me,” I say to the soldiers. “Now you have seen what I can do. And you have seen the power of my Elites. I have mercenaries at my back, seizing control of the palace. I have power that you cannot hope to defeat. I can be your enemy, and look on as you die.” I raise my arms at them. “Or, I can be your ruler, and bring you glory you could never have imagined.”
Silence. The Inquisitors look warily at me, and for the first time, I see expressions on their faces—reminders that behind their fearsome armor and white cloaks are just men, still capable of being terrified and conquered. I blink, startled by this realization. I have spent my entire life thinking of the Inquisitors as things, soulless creatures. But they are just men. Men can be swayed, and I have the power to do it.
“Why are you fighting me now?” I say. “Because your Lead Inquisitor tells you to? He is no better than an abomination himself.” I smile bitterly at them. “More importantly, he has met his match.”
The Inquisitors shift, hesitant and fearful, exhausted.
“Follow me,
” I continue, “and I will lead you to Beldain. We will take their country and have our revenge. We can seize Tamoura, in the Sunlands, and far beyond. We will expand our empire in ways no one could have imagined. Give up this pointless campaign against malfettos. You fear our powers. And I know you want to live. If you follow me, I will shower you with everything you’ve ever desired.” My expression hardens. “It is that, or death. You don’t have much time.” I nod at Magiano, and he twirls a dagger in one hand. “So. What will it be, my Inquisitors?”
They do not move against me. And I know, in this moment, that I have their answer.
I gesture to Teren. “Chain him well,” I command. “He is no longer your Lead Inquisitor. He is not your king.” I lift my head. “I am.”
For a moment, I think they will ignore me. I’m so used to it.
But then, they move. And they—the Inquisition, the white cloaks, the enemies of all malfettos—obey me and move against Teren.
Teren seizes the cloak of the first Inquisitor in his fist, but he is still too weak to stop him. They pull his hands roughly behind his back. “What are you doing?” he spits at them as they tie him down. “You cowards, you believe her—you fools.” He snarls a string of curses at them, but they ignore their former leader. I smile at the sight.
Fear motivates, more than love or ambition or joy. Fear is more powerful than anything else in the world. I have spent so long yearning for things—for love, for acceptance—that I do not really need. I need nothing except the submission that comes with fear. I do not know why it took me so long to learn this.
Inquisitors drag Teren to his feet. Even now, in his pain and exhaustion and heavy chains, he pulls and strains against them, causing the multiple iron shackles binding his limbs to pull taut. To my surprise, he smiles at me. It is a bitter, anguished smile, full of heartbreak. His cheeks are wet with tears and rain. His eyes still shine with madness, and now I realize that the madness is because of Giulietta’s death.
“Why don’t you kill me, my little wolf?” he says. His voice is strangely calm now, hoarse with a sorrow I have not heard before.
“Yes, I suppose I could.”
“Then do it,” he snaps. “And end this.”
I just watch him. Why don’t I? My eye wanders back to where Raffaele had been beside Enzo only moments earlier. He is already gone. So are the other Daggers. I search the sky for them, but I no longer see them anywhere. They are retreating with what is left of the Beldish navy.
I walk over to Teren, then bend down so that my gaze meets his. I watch the rain pour down his face. When was the first time I saw this face? When I was chained to the stake, of course, and he had come over to bend down before me. How poised he had been, then, with his handsome, chiseled face and his mad, pulsing eyes. I smile, realizing that we have switched places now.
I bend close to his ear, in the same way he had once done to me. “No,” I say. “I will keep you, until the day I choose not to. You have destroyed and harmed all that is dear to me. In return, I want you to know what that feels like. I will not kill you. I will keep you alive. I will torture you.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Until your soul is dead.”
Teren can only stare back at me. I cannot describe the expression in his eyes.
The strength of battle finally leaves me. I stand on the deck, letting the rain continue to soak me. All around us, Beldish warships burn low in the stormy waters. Magiano, Sergio, and Violetta look on in silence. Inquisitors stand still, waiting for my next move. The Daggers are defeated, and Teren is my captive.
Enzo inherited a throne. Giulietta relied on her royal blood. Queen Maeve rules Beldain because she was born to it.
But true rulers are not born. We are made.
A cruel queen does not mean an unsuccessful one. Under her guidance, Kenettra changed from a glittering gem into a clouded stone, and her empire became one to rule all others, a darkness that stretched from sun, to sea, to sky.
—The Empire of the Wolf, translation by Tarsa Mehani
Adelina Amouteru
The first time I met an Inquisitor, he dragged me out of the hay in a barn and arrested me for the death of my father. They threw me into their dungeons for three weeks, and then shackled me to an iron stake. They have hunted me for months, chased me between the borders of nations, murdered those I love.
How strange that they now see me and keep their swords sheathed. As I walk down the halls of the palace with Violetta beside me, they step aside and lower their eyes. I keep my head high, but I still stiffen at the sight of so many white cloaks. My mercenaries wander the halls, their blades drawn in loyalty to me. Behind us walk Magiano and Sergio. When I glance over my shoulder, I see Magiano staring out the windows toward the burning harbor, his gaze distant. Sergio stops to talk to one of the mercenaries. I tighten my jaw and remind myself that with them as my allies, I shouldn’t fear the Inquisition as much as I still do.
Their queen is dead. Their Lead Inquisitor is in chains, unconscious. Their palace is overrun, and, most of all, they are afraid of what I can do to them. I can sense the fear in their hearts. Word had spread of how Enzo lifted his hands and set fire to the entire Beldish navy. Even now, they whisper of the way I made Teren crumple in agony. The way my Roses hunted down a Dagger riding on the back of her balira, how a lightning strike had killed her.
I sense their fear, and use it to build my strength back up.
Thousands have gathered around the palace. As morning arrives in earnest, sunlight slicing through black clouds in thin patches, lighting up the rain, we make our way to the royal chambers. I need to address my people, and I need to look the part. I will walk out onto the balcony with my head held high, fulfilling the fantasy I’d had as a little girl in my father’s home.
You all live in a new era now. From this day forth, ill treatment of any malfetto shall be punishable by death. None shall live in fear, as long as loyalty is sworn to this crown. I will be your queen, and I will restore Kenettra to glory.
“Your Majesty,” Magiano says as we enter the room. When I turn to him, he gives me a quick bow. His eyes are still distant. “I’ll leave you to prepare, then. No need for a thief on the royal balcony.”
“No more need for you to be a thief,” I say.
Magiano smiles and, for a moment, the old flame returns to his eyes. He takes a step closer to me. It seems as if he wants to reach out for my hand, but then he decides not to, and lets his arm fall back to his side. It sends a stab of disappointment through me. “A stunning victory,” he murmurs.
I can see a reflection in his eyes of the final moments of battle, can hear in his voice an echo of his shouts from when we were on board Queen Maeve’s ship. Somewhere out there, Enzo calls through our tether, and I shiver at his pull. I want to reach out for Magiano’s hand too, as if he could pull me back.
But those thoughts are quickly replaced by the memory of Enzo’s final words to me during the battle. Of his black eyes. I would have killed you myself, if I’d had the chance. He’s right, of course. If I were him, I would have said nothing different. There is no question that we are enemies now. Shields go up over my heart, and my alignment to passion flickers lower, dying. It is the only way to protect myself.
So I don’t reach out for Magiano’s hand.
“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” I say instead. “And without Sergio’s.”
Magiano just shrugs. He studies me for a brief moment. What does he see? Then he utters a small laugh. “Just point me in the direction of the royal treasury, Your Majesty,” he says, waving a hand in the air. He turns away as he speaks, but not before I catch a hint of sadness on his face. “Then you’ll always know where to find me.”
I return his smile with my own bittersweet one. I nod at an Inquisitor to show him, and the soldier gives me a nervous bow. Magiano follows, but pauses for a moment to look back at me. His smile wavers
.
“Adelina,” he says. “Be careful.”
Then he leaves us, and I miss him instantly.
Once he’s completely disappeared down the hall, I dismiss everyone except for Violetta and order the doors closed. The Inquisitors don’t dare hesitate at my command. How strange, to be able to say something and watch them obey. It almost makes me laugh. The room falls into silence, and all we can hear now is the roar of people outside.
We are quiet for a long moment.
“How are you feeling?” Violetta finally asks in a quiet voice.
What can I say? I feel everything. Satisfaction. Emptiness. I feel confused, unsure of where I am and how I arrived here. I take a shuddering breath. “I’m fine,” I reply.
“He cares for you, you know.” Violetta turns her head briefly in the direction of the closed doors. “Magiano. I’ve seen him standing guard outside your door, making sure you aren’t having another nightmare or an illusion.”
Her words sink in, and I find myself looking at the closed doors too. I wish I hadn’t sent him away to the treasury. I would have asked him why he told me to be careful, what he sees when he looks at me. Why his expression had seemed so sad.
“I know,” I say.
“Do you care for him?”
“I don’t know how to,” I reply.
Violetta gives me a sidelong look. I know she can hear in my voice the evidence that he means more to me than I’m revealing. She sighs, then waves for me as she walks toward the steps leading up to the throne. Our footsteps echo in unison. She sits down on the bottom step, and I join her.
“Let him in,” she says. “I know you’re holding back.” She stares out at the long, empty expanse of the chamber. “Keep him close. His love is light, and it calls out the light in you.” Her eyes come to settle on me.
Something whispers in irritation at the back of my mind, resisting the advice. “You’re telling me this because you think I love him?”
“I’m telling you this because he calms you,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically sharp and biting. “You’re going to need it.”
