“What’s going on?” Magiano calls out to him, gesturing at the white banners.
The soldier shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s all I can say,” he replies. “Please turn around.” He raises his voice to the rest of the crowd. “Turn around!”
Magiano makes a show of grumbling under his breath, but he puts a hand on Violetta’s shoulder and steers us around. “There is always another door,” he says, quoting The Thief Who Stole the Stars with a smile.
We make our way down the street until we reach a tiny, winding canal. Here, Magiano hands several coins to a boatman, and we hurry quietly on board his cargo boat. We float down the canal, listening to the bustle above, shrouded in shadows.
The strange feeling from earlier in the morning returns. I frown, shaking my head. The world shifts, and the whispers in my mind leap forward, sensing a sudden chance at freedom.
Violetta turns to me. “Are you all right?” she whispers.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
But I’m not. This time, when I close my eye and open it again, the feeling doesn’t go away. The world takes on a strange yellow tint, and the sounds around me turn quiet, as if none of it were quite real. Am I creating an illusion? I glance at Magiano, suddenly suspicious. Is he mimicking my power?
That’s it, the whispers hiss, eager to accuse. All of this is a ruse. What if he’s betraying you, mimicking your illusions so that he can hand you over to the Night King’s men? To the Inquisition? This was all a trick all along.
But Magiano doesn’t seem to be using his power. He isn’t even paying attention to me. His focus is entirely on the direction of the canal, and he has a concentrated frown on his face. Violetta doesn’t seem to sense him doing anything, either. In fact, she’s staring at me with a concerned expression. She takes my hand.
It feels numb and very far away.
“Adelina,” Violetta whispers in my ear, “your energy feels strange. Are you …?”
The rest of her words fade away, so that I can’t understand her anymore. Something else has caught my attention. At the next bend of the canal, a man is sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. He turns when we approach.
It’s my father.
He wears that dark smile that I remember all too well. Suddenly terror seizes my throat so hard that I can barely breathe. He’s here. He’s supposed to be dead.
“Heading the wrong way, Adelina?” he says. As we glide past, he gets up onto his feet and starts to walk the canal’s edge along with us.
“Go away,” I whisper up at him.
He doesn’t respond. As we sail around a corner, he follows us—and even though we should be moving faster than he can walk, he manages to stay right behind us. I grit my teeth and turn around in my seat. Beside me, Violetta looks more alarmed. She calls out something—my name, perhaps—but it doesn’t seem important to answer her. All I can do is stare at my father’s silhouette as it follows us.
“Go away,” I hiss again through my teeth. This time, I say it loud enough for both Violetta and Magiano to turn their heads.
“I beg your pardon?” I can hear Magiano say.
I ignore him. I turn away from my father’s figure and try to catch my breath. I close my eye again. The world presses down on me. “It’s just an illusion,” I say, trying not to panic. An illusion like always. But my fear only fuels it, making it stronger. The lines of reality start to blur. No, no, it’s not an illusion at all. My father has come back from the dead. When he catches up to me, he is going to kill me. I tremble all over.
When I glance behind me, my father is gone.
In his place is Enzo. The Reaper. His dark hood and silver mask cover his face, but I know it’s him, can tell by his tall, lean, lethal shape, the predatory grace of his walk. He holds a dagger in each hand, both blades glowing white hot with heat. For an instant, my heart jumps into my throat. The edges of my vision turn red, and I remember the way he used to train with me, how he’d touch my hand and mold my grip on my daggers to the correct shape. I want to run to him. I want to take his mask off and wrap my arms around him. I want to tell him that I’m sorry. But I don’t. He walks with the stride of a killer. He is hunting me.
The Reaper flicks his wrists.
Lines of fire explode from his hands and rush down the canal toward us. Above, the edges of the canal burst into flames. The roar and heat drown out everything—my skin turns scorching hot. The fire closes in all around us. It licks at the buildings, climbing higher and higher until the flames consume the rooftops. I bury my head in my hands and scream. Somewhere, my sister is calling for me, but I don’t care.