gold and silver with thousands of repeating circles and squares. Ornate tapestries hang from balconies in the smoky air. Soldiers pass us by in small clusters, wearing billowing silks instead of heavy armor, a moon-and-crown emblem stitched onto their sleeves. They’re not the Inquisition Axis, but no doubt they’ve heard news of Teren’s orders from across the sea to find us. We steer clear of the soldiers.
I feel as if I were in a haze, the celebrations floating around me. It’s strange, really, to look out at all of this joy. What do I do with it? It doesn’t feed my energy. Instead, I stay silent, letting Violetta guide us through the busy streets, as I return to my dark thoughts.
Since leaving Kenettra three weeks ago, I have woken to whispers at my bedside that fade away seconds later. Other times, the hushed voices talk to me when no one else is around. They are not always there, and I cannot always understand them even when they are speaking to me. But I can always feel their presence lingering in the corners of my mind. There is a blade there, a rotation of sound and silence, a lamp that burns black. A grim, growing fire. This is what they say:
Adelina, why do you blame yourself for Enzo’s death?
I should have had better control over my illusions, I respond quietly to the whispers. I could have saved Enzo’s life. I should have trusted the Daggers sooner.
None of it was your fault, the whispers in my head argue. You didn’t kill him, after all—it was not your weapon that ended his life. So why are you the one cast out? You didn’t have to return to the Daggers—you didn’t need to help them rescue Raffaele. And still they turned on you. Why does everyone forget your good intentions, Adelina?
Why feel guilty for something that isn’t your fault?
Because I loved him. And now he is gone.
It’s better this way, the whispers say. Haven’t you always waited at the top of the stairs, imagining yourself a queen?
“Adelina,” Violetta says. She tugs on my arm and the whispers scatter.
I shake my head and force myself to concentrate. “Are you sure he’s here?” I ask.
“If not him, then another Elite.”
We’ve come to Merroutas to flee the Inquisition’s prying eyes in Kenettra. It is the nearest place outside of Kenettran control, but eventually we’ll make our way south to the Sunlands, far from their reach.
But we also came here for another reason.
If you had heard stories about only one Young Elite, they would have been about a boy named Magiano. Raffaele, the beautiful young consort who was once my friend, mentioned Magiano during my afternoon training sessions with him. Since then, I’ve heard his name on the lips of countless travelers.
Some say he was raised by wolves in the dense forests of the Ember Isles, a tiny chain of islands far east of Kenettra. Others say he was born in the hot Sunland deserts of Domacca, a bastard brought up by wandering nomads. He’s rumored to be a wild boy, almost feral, dressed from head to toe in leaves, with a mind and hands as quicksilver as a midnight fox. He appeared quite suddenly several years ago, and has since avoided arrest by the Inquisition Axis dozens of times, for everything from illegal gambling to stealing the Kenettran queen’s crown jewels. As the stories go, he can lure you straight off a cliff and into the sea with music from his lute. And when he smiles, his teeth shine wickedly bright.
Though we know he is a Young Elite, no one can say for certain what his power is. We can only be sure that he was recently seen here, in Merroutas.
If I were still the same girl from a year ago, before I knew I had powers, I’m not sure I would have the courage to search for such a notorious Elite. But then I killed my father. I joined the Dagger Society. I betrayed them, and they betrayed me. Or perhaps it was the other way around. I can never be sure.
What I do know is that the Daggers are my enemies now. When you’re all alone in a world that hates and fears you, you want to find others like yourself. New friends. Elite friends. Friends who can help you build your own society.
Friends like Magiano.
“Salaam, lovely Tamouran girls!”
We enter another large square near the bay. All along the sides are food stalls with steaming