manages to say before a blur of white materializes from the shadows and seizes him by the collar of his robe. Raffaele feels himself lifted nearly off his feet—his back slams so hard against the wall that the impact knocks all the breath from his chest. Stars explode across his vision. Somewhere comes the sound of a blade through air, and an instant later, cold metal presses hard against his throat. A hand clamps over his mouth.
Teren’s face comes into focus before him. His pale irises seem to pulse in the darkness. “Pretty little peacock,” he snarls as Raffaele struggles for breath. He gestures for the other two Inquisitors to pin him against the wall. “What lies did you tell the queen this time? What demonic spells are you weaving?”
Raffaele returns Teren’s glare with his own quiet one. “I am no more a demon than you are.”
Teren’s gaze hardens. “Let’s see how often the queen will ask for you after I carve the skin off your face.”
Raffaele smiles back. His smile is sharp, a blade of silk and grace. “You fear me more than I fear you.”
Teren’s eyes flash. He nods to the Inquisitors to hold him tightly, and then he hoists his dagger higher. He smiles in a way that prickles Raffaele’s skin.
“Stop.”
The queen’s command rings out sharply down the hall, and Teren freezes. Raffaele turns to see Giulietta heading out of her chambers with soldiers at her back, her face cold and distant. She narrows her eyes at Teren. Immediately, the two Inquisitors pinning Raffaele to the wall release him, and everyone falls into a hurried kneel. Raffaele gulps as pain continues to lance down his back.
“Your solution to everything, Master Santoro,” she says when she reaches them, “is to bite.”
He opens his mouth as she approaches him, but before he can say anything, Giulietta reaches out for the gold clasp holding his Inquisition cloak in place. She flicks the clasp open, then gives the cloak one vicious yank. The cloak falls from his shoulders, pooling at his feet.
The sign of a demotion.
Teren’s eyes snap open in shock. “Your Majesty—” he begins.
Giulietta just gives him an icy look. “I warned you what would happen if you ever ignored my commands again.”
“But I—”
“I ordered Raffaele to be taken back to his new chambers. Why did you disobey me?”
Teren bows his head in what looks like shame. “Your Majesty,” he replies. “I apologize. I—”
“I’ve heard enough of your apologies,” Giulietta interrupts. She folds her arms. “When dawn arrives, you are to take a patrol and report to the southern cities immediately.”
“You …,” Teren says, his words trailing off as realization hits him. “You are sending me away? Out of Estenzia?”
Giulietta arches an eyebrow at him. “You are asking me to repeat myself?” she says.
“Your Majesty, please.” Teren takes a step closer to her. “Everything I do—everything I have ever done—is to protect your crown. You are the one true queen. There are times I may act rashly, and I deserve to be punished, but I do it in the name of the crown.”
“I expect you to relinquish your quarters and your armor by tomorrow.” Giulietta gives him a look of disinterest. This, Raffaele thinks, more than anything, makes Teren wince. “You will set out with several patrols by tomorrow evening, to secure my rule in the south. If you truly care for me, you will obey this order. Do you understand?”
Teren’s voice hardens. “Your Majesty,” he says. “I am your best fighter. I am your champion.”
“You are useless if you ignore my commands.”
Teren grabs Giulietta’s hands. His voice lowers, turns tender. “Giulietta,” he murmurs. Raffaele watches in fascination. Addressing the queen by name? He has heard plenty about their affair, but this is the first time he has ever seen it on display. Teren bends down toward her, close enough for his lips to brush her cheek. “You will kill me if you send me away.”
Giulietta turns her face and pulls away, separating herself from him. She tilts her chin up. Her eyes are ice cold. Raffaele watches Teren’s expressions shift on his face. The young Inquisitor is realizing, for the first time, that he may be unable to sway her mind. Teren stares at Raffaele, then turns desperately to Giulietta.
“I love you,” he suddenly says, his voice urgent. “I’ve loved you since I was a boy. I would kill a thousand men for you.”
“I don’t need you to kill a thousand men, Master Santoro,” Giulietta says. “I need you