bolted shut.
Giulietta’s words ring in Teren’s head over and over again, becoming a cacophony of betrayal. You are no longer my Lead Inquisitor. He pledged his entire life to her, but she no longer wants it.
He remembers the way he used to make her smile, how she would let him unpin her hair and it would tumble down past her shoulders. He imagines kissing her again, wrapping her in his arms, waking up in her bed.
How could she push him aside in favor of the Daggers? Teren shakes his head. No, this is not the princess he grew up knowing. This is not the queen he pledged to serve. He had made a promise before the gods that he would cleanse this land of abominations, and he’d thought that the queen wanted the same thing.
And now she wants to free the malfettos, after all the hard work he has done?
“Light the torches,” Teren commands, and his men rush to do his bidding.
No, he cannot allow the Daggers to win like this. If he has to leave the city, he is going to take the malfettos down first.
He pauses at the end of the row, then turns to face the longhouses again. He takes a torch from one of his men, walks up to the first longhouse, and holds it up to the thatched roof. It catches fire.
As the smoke builds, and the people trapped inside begin to panic, Teren walks to the next longhouse, shouting a command over his shoulder. “Burn them all.”
It is better to have an enemy who will fight you in an open field than a lover who will kill you in your sleep.
—Kenettra and Beldain: An Ancient Rivalry, various authors
Adelina Amouteru
I sense what’s happened in the malfetto camps before we even arrive there. An aura of terror and pain hovers over the entire area, blanketing the land as surely as the smoke fills the air. I shiver at the feeling.
Violetta rides with me. Behind us, Enzo flanks our left, his face masked behind a cloth veil in case Teren sees us, and Sergio flanks our right, one hand on his horse’s reins and the other on the hilt of his sword. Somewhere nearby, Magiano watches us. I imagine his eyes narrowed, focused on me as we go.
By the time we reach the edge of the camps, the smoke is thick. Screams fill the air. The longhouses used to house the malfettos are on fire, the flames licking at the roofs, crackling and roaring, red splinters floating through the air. Malfettos are trapped inside. Their terror feeds my darkness so much that I can barely see. I lean over in my saddle, struggling to keep my own fear at bay. The screams coming from the longhouses are familiar to me. They remind me of my own. Where are the Inquisitors? The paths are empty, the soldiers having long since passed through and moved on to the other camps in the area.
The fires closest to us flicker—as if a great wind had just whipped past—and then they vanish into curls of black smoke. I glance to my side, where Enzo gallops. He gives me a single nod, his eyes the only part of his face that are exposed, and then urges his horse onward. He raises another hand. Other fires along the path flicker out. Each time he uses his energy, the tether between us vibrates, sending shudders through my chest. Tendrils of his power seep into me, the threads scalding my insides. I try to keep it under control.
Screams continue from inside the longhouses. The whispers in me jump, excited by their overwhelming fear. I grit my teeth as we reach the first of the houses. I jump down from my saddle and rush to the closest door. Even though fire has eaten away at it, and the wood is charred black, I can’t seem to pull the wood apart. I yank at the metal lock. The sudden rush of helplessness angers me. I am the White Wolf, capable of creating the most powerful illusions in the world—but they are just that. Illusions. I cannot even break a lock with my own hands.
Enzo appears beside me. His gloved hand closes on my frantic ones. “Allow me.” He wraps his fist around the lock. The metal turns bright red, then white, and the wood around it chars. It bursts apart in a shower of splinters. The lock comes free.
We pull the door open, and a plume of smoke