Slowly, I release my illusions on the soldiers and bring my energy close inside my chest, protecting it against Enzo’s. Several of the soldiers collapse to their knees, still trembling from phantom pain. Then I carefully stretch out both of my hands, so that Raffaele can see. If he is studying the shift of my energy right now, he will know that I’m not about to attack.
But I will not bow to a foreign power. My glare shifts to one of the kings, and I’m satisfied when he returns my stare. I’m tempted to look around at the rest of the chamber again, to meet the eyes of the other two kings, but that would require me turning around on the floor like a beggar. I will do no such thing here. “My fleet,” I say instead, lifting my chin at the king. “My Roses.”
“Choursdaem,” Raffaele says to the king. “Rosaem.”
The king says something to Raffaele in reply. Most of it is completely lost on me, but I do pick out the taunting lilt he adds to my name.
Raffaele bows his head to the king, then turns back to me. “The war rages even as we speak, Queen Adelina,” he translates. “Our armies are sitting at a tenuous stalemate, because your forces know that you are in our captivity. Another of your Roses is also in our hands. Unharmed . . . for now.”
Another captive. It must be Magiano. He was the only one riding with me, after all, and I’d heard his voice earlier. My energy flares again, and Raffaele shoots me a warning look. With great difficulty, I swallow and rein myself in. Magiano’s life depends on how I act.
“It seems you were betrayed by one of your Inquisitors,” Raffaele says.
One of my own. The fact that Raffaele had seen this happen right before his eyes makes me blind with fury. “You planted a rebel in my midst,” I snap. “Did you not?”
“I didn’t need to,” Raffaele replies. “You would have lost this battle.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Raffaele’s expression stays calm. “One of your men, attacking you. Is this uncommon?”
No. It is not uncommon. Previous attempts come blinking back into my memory, even as I try in vain to keep them away. The rebels are everywhere. I grit my teeth. I will have that traitor skinned alive.
The king speaks again as Raffaele translates. “What would you do, in our place?” The ghost of a smile appears on the Tamouran king’s lips. “You would have us beheaded, I’m sure, and hold it up for our armies to see. I’ve heard that’s what you do in other conquered cities. Perhaps we should do the same, dangling your body from the masts of our ships. That should end this war quickly enough.”
My heartbeat quickens, but I refuse to let him see my fear. My mind spins. How will I break free from here? I look at Raffaele again. What deal have the Daggers struck with Tamoura?
And Violetta.
“Where is my sister?” I demand, anger shaking my voice.
Raffaele takes a step toward me. “She’s resting.”
He means she is not doing well. I scowl. “You’re lying. I saw her riding with you in battle.”
“She was in no shape to fight you,” Raffaele answers. “I brought her with me solely so that you could see her.”
Is the reason why Violetta has not yet taken my powers away because . . . she is too weak to do so? “You’ve lied so often, Messenger,” I say with deliberate calm. “Why should you stop now?”
“For the gods’ sakes, she doesn’t deserve this,” Michel mutters from the shadows. He looks different from what I remember—thinner, his cheeks hollow—and his eyes are fixed on me with a burning hatred. “Behead her and send it back to Kenettra. Toss the rest of her in the ocean for the fish. She’s always belonged to the Underworld. Perhaps that will fix everything.”
I frown, taken aback by such harsh words and that they come from the same boy who had once praised my illusion of a rose. He had been so fond of Gemma; any friendship he might have had with me ended the day I sent her falling from the skies. The girl I used to be stirs inside me, pushing past the dark queen to dwell on other memories. I realize I cannot recall the sound of Michel’s laugh.
Raffaele doesn’t take his eyes off me. To my surprise, the three rulers seem to be waiting for him to speak. After another brief moment of silence, he steps forward. “There are a thousand things we could do, with you here in our custody,” he says. “But what we will do is let you go.”
I blink once at him. “Let me go?” I echo, frowning in confusion.
Raffaele nods once.
This is his manipulation at work again. He never means exactly what he says. “What do you really want, Messenger?” I say sharply. “Speak plainly. We are at war. Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you and the Tamourans are releasing me out of the kindness of your hearts.”
In the silence, one of the kings turns to Raffaele and raises a bejeweled hand. “Well, Messenger,” he says, his voice echoing in the chamber. “Sa behaum.” Tell her.
Raffaele walks closer. “Adelina,” he begins slowly, “we are releasing you because we need your help.”
Of everything I thought he might say, it was not this. I can only stare at him in disbelief. Then I start to laugh and the whispers join me. You really must be going mad.
Something about Raffaele’s expression finally makes my laughter subside. “You’re serious,” I say, tilting my head in a mock imitation of his familiar gesture. “You must be desperate to think that I would work with you and the Daggers.”
“You won’t have much choice. Your sister’s life depends on it, as do ours.” He nods at me. “As does yours.”
More lies. “Is this why you told me about her? Why you wanted me to see Violetta with you? So you can use her against me?” I shake my head at him. “Cruel, even for you.”
“I took her in,” Raffaele replies. “What did you do?”
As always, his words strike true. This is what you wanted, Adelina, the whispers coax me. You wanted to find Violetta, for your own reasons. Now you have.
Raffaele continues in the silence. “Your sister once took some documents of mine from the royal Beldish ship. Do you remember what they said?”
He’s referring to the parchments Violetta had shown me on the day she left my side. That all Elites are doomed to die young, destroyed from within by our powers. As always, the thought of his theory chills me. I am reminded of Teren’s stubborn wound, of Sergio’s constant thirst. Of my own illusions, spiraling steadily out of my control. “Yes,” I say. “And what do they have to do with me?”
Raffaele looks to each of the rulers in turn. They nod once in silence, giving him some sort of unspoken permission. As they do, Tamouran soldiers approach me from where they had been standing guard around the edges of the chamber. I stiffen as they draw nearer. Raffaele tilts his head at me, then starts walking to the chamber’s entrance. “Come with me,” he says.
Enzo shifts where he stands, as if he would accompany us too—but he stops as Raffaele shakes his head. “His power affects yours far too much,” Raffaele says to me. “You need to stand alone for this.”
Others follow in his wake. I’m pulled to my feet by soldiers, unchained from the floor, and guided along. We exit the chamber and enter a hallway, then leave the recesses of the palace and head down in the direction of the shoreline. The pressure on my chest eases, and I sag in relief as walls and hills come between the tether binding Enzo to me. It is a dark night; the only light comes from two slivers of moonlight I can see peeking through the clouds. The storm Sergio had raged over the oceans has dispersed by now, but the scent of rain still hangs heavy in the air, and the grasses are wet and glistening. I crane my neck, searching. Somewhere out there on the waves are my ships and Sergio. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder where Magiano has been taken.
We keep going until we finally hit the shoreline. Here, Raffaele comes over to us and murmurs something at the soldiers. They pull me forward toward the water. I have a sudden feeling that they intend to drown me in the ocean—that is what this whole ritual is about. I struggle for a moment, but it’s no use.