The Young Elites (The Young Elites, #1)(41)

The Inquisitors glance up at the roofs. The sword falls away from Gemma.

“The Elites!” several in the crowd shriek, pointing up at my illusion. “They’re here!”

The crowd bursts into screams. The horses startle. Gemma hops to her feet, her eyes wide, and seizes the moment to scamper back into the crowd. The rush of darkness through me is intoxicating and irresistible, and I find myself embracing it, letting it cover my insides like ink. Such power over these little masses. I love it.

I’m not strong enough to hold the illusion in place. The silhouettes scatter into nothingness as soon as I pull them back below the roofline. I shove my way frantically out of the square with the others. My sudden burst of bravado is replaced with anger at myself. Now Enzo will know for certain that I was here—they might find out why I was really in the streets. They might find out about my meeting with Teren, and what I told him. Nausea churns in me. I have to leave here.

All around me, people try to flood out of the square. Some Inquisitors are blocking the exits, but there are too many of us and not enough of them. I’m careful to stay close to the walls of the buildings as people shove past me. All around me is a blur of chaos and colors, masked faces and the sensation of others’ fear. Threads of energy glitter in the air.

Then, out of nowhere—an arrow comes flying from the sky and hits an Inquisitor in the chest. It hits him so hard that it knocks him off his horse.

The people near him shriek, scattering in all directions. Another arrow comes flying, and then another. The Inquisitors turn their attention to their invisible attackers—and as they do, the people finally break past the blocked paths and free themselves from the square. My heart hammers in my chest at the sight of blood.

The Daggers.

I stumble out of the square, then retrace my steps as I rush along with others. Behind me, I hear Inquisitors shouting for order—the sounds of scuffles tell me that they’re making arrests as they go. I rush on. Energy courses through me in relentless waves, feeding me even as I try to ignore the flood of power in my veins. In spite of everything, I feel a strange sense of glee.

All this chaos is of my own creation.

By the time I reach the court, I’m soaked in sweat. My breaths come hard. I round a corner to the side wall of the court facing a narrow street, then climb on the ivy and hoist myself over the low ledge. I collapse inside the courtyard. Then I pick myself up, dust off my hands, and pull open a side gate that leads to the inner chambers. Finally, I reach the secret wall. I push on it, step through, and rush toward my room. There. I’ve made it back before the others. I’ll head to my room and—

But someone’s already waiting for me in the hall. It’s Enzo.

The sudden sight of him catches me by surprise. Any hope of being spared his wrath is dashed when I see the expression on his face. His eyes are alight, the scarlet in them brighter than usual.

“You were to stay here,” he says. His voice is deadly quiet. “Why did you leave?”

Panic rises in my throat. He knows.

Something stirs behind him. I glance over his shoulder to see Windwalker, her mask off. Spider lurks farther down the hall, his arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He looks smug, eager to see me punished. “Huh,” he says. “Little lamb’s in trouble.”

I keep my focus on Enzo and try to think of some clever comeback. Anything to protect myself.

“I—” I start to say. “I wanted to help—”

“You caused a riot out there,” Spider interrupts me. “Ever stop to think of what might happen if you lost control of your powers?”

“I stepped in for Gemma,” I reply, suddenly angry. “I wasn’t about to wait around and see her killed.”

Spider’s lips curl up. “Maybe it’s time you keep your words locked inside that pretty little mouth, where they belong.”

My voice flattens. “Careful. Lest I hurt you.” I don’t even know where the words come from until they’ve already left me.

Enzo hushes us both with a shake of his head. “Dante,” he says, without bothering to glance over his shoulder. It takes me a second to realize that Enzo has revealed the Spider’s real name to me. “You’re dismissed.”

The boy’s rage changes to disbelief—at the use of his name in front of me, or at his dismissal, maybe both. “You’ll let this girl have her way?” he spits out. “She could have gotten one of us killed. She could have ruined the entire mission—”

“The Inquisition ruined the mission,” Enzo interrupts. His eyes stay on me, and I feel the familiar shudder pulse through my heart. “You’re dismissed. Do not make me say it again.”

Dante hesitates for a moment. Then he pushes away from the wall. “Watch your back, little lamb,” he snaps at me before stalking off down the hall. Windwalker watches him go, shrugs, and regards me with a suspicious look.

“Now what, Reaper?” she says. “A whole new plan for the Tournament of Storms?”

“No need.”

She snorts. “But they’ve disqualified Gemma,” she says. “She can’t get close to the royals if she won’t be able to race.”

Enzo studies me with a gaze so intense that it leaves my cheeks red. “Not if someone disguises her,” he replies.

I blink, my mind spinning with the new information they’re feeding me. First, Spider’s real name. Now, this. Is he . . . pleased with me? Permitting me to participate in the Daggers’ plans? I could learn to disguise Gemma. I could disguise any one of them to ride in the race.