Teren stops mid-attack. He lets out a terrible gasp, then stumbles backward and clutches his chest. It takes him an instant to catch his breath. He lets out a weak laugh, then points his sword at me again. In the shadows, I see a glimpse of Violetta moving. “I knew your sister must be here somewhere,” he says. “She seems to have grown bolder since last we met. Fine, let’s play. I could slit your throat even without my strength.”
He lunges at me again. Old lessons from Enzo flash through my mind—I sidestep, then lash out at him with an illusion of pain. The threads wrap tightly around his arm. I pull, and he shrieks as he thinks his arm is being ripped clean of his body. But almost immediately, he recovers and slashes his sword at me.
“Stop,” I call out. “I’ve come to talk with you.”
“All an illusion with you,” he shouts through gritted teeth. I can feel him pushing back against my power. If he doesn’t believe me, I can’t hurt him.
I concentrate, throwing all my strength into my pain illusion. This time, the threads slice deep into his belly—when I pull, I conjure the illusion that I am ripping apart his organs, that I am cutting him from the inside out. Teren screams. Still, he comes at me. His sword catches my skin this time. It slashes a scarlet mark on my upper arm.
Something flickers in the darkness—and an instant later, Magiano appears before me, drawn out by the sight of my blood. His pupils become slits as he looks at Teren. “Keep your filthy blades off her,” he snaps. “It’s rude.”
Teren’s eyes widen again, surprised by Magiano’s sudden appearance—but then he strikes at Magiano with his blade, cutting deep across his chest. Instinctively, I reach out to protect him.
Magiano stumbles backward. Before our eyes, the bloody cut on his chest heals almost immediately, stitched together by invisible threads. He laughs at Teren. “I believe she told you to stop, so that we can all talk,” he says, crossing his arms. “Don’t you like talking? You seemed to be doing a great deal of it a moment ago.”
Teren can only stare at Magiano’s healed chest in disbelief.
“Don’t fight me,” I shout as the Inquisitor whirls, his blade aimed at me again. I barely avoid it in time. “I know what you’re really up against.”
Teren laughs. “Brave little wolf,” he taunts. “The queen wants your head, and I shall give it to her.”
“Raffaele has taken your place at the palace,” I say, toying with Teren’s temper. “And he has also cast me out of the Daggers.” I nod at Magiano. “Not that it has stopped me from finding allies.”
“You’ve been busy,” Teren says with an icy smile. His pale eyes cut me to the bone, then shift to Magiano, who gives him a winning grin.
“Do you really believe Queen Giulietta deserves the throne, now that she has thrown you away?” I ask. “Now that she is willing to have other Elites in her army?”
Teren watches me carefully. I can feel his darkness rising again. “What do you want, mi Adelinetta?” he says.
Suddenly, I stop where I am. I weave an illusion over my entire face … transforming myself into Giulietta. Same rosy cheeks, same heart-shaped face and tiny, puckered lips, same deep, dark eyes so reminiscent of Enzo’s.
Teren stops so quickly that he loses his grip on his sword. The weapon clatters to the ground. Even though he must know that it’s just an illusion, he cannot seem to control his reaction. “Your Majesty,” he whispers, staring at my face in wonder.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” I murmur, stepping closer to him.
Teren stares at me. This time, he falls completely for the illusion—he has forgotten about me. Instead, he takes a step forward and holds my face in his hands. He is surprisingly gentle.
“Giulietta,” he whispers. “Oh, my love. It’s you.” He kisses each of my cheeks. “How could you send me away?”
Then, his hands tighten on my cheeks, grabbing at the flesh. “You sent me away,” he says again, harder this time. A spark of fear jumps in me. Something in his voice reminds me of my father, that hard-hearted fury. “I did everything for you, and you sent me away.”
I decide to play along. “I am the Queen of Kenettra,” I say. “Pure of blood. If I want, I’ll send you away. If I wish, I’ll kill you. Shouldn’t I?”
“But you are taking counsel from a Dagger,” Teren spits out. His grip hardens against my face until it hurts. “You are letting a malfetto tell you it’s not worth it to cleanse this country.”
I force down my fear. “I have no interest in destroying malfettos. I never have. Why should I? It’s useless.”