The Young Elites (The Young Elites, #1)(82)

Tears prickle the corner of my eye. I know what path Raffaele’s words are going down.

Raffaele lowers his jewel-toned eyes. “I was wrong. Passion is bright and warm . . . but passion has a dark side too. It links with fear. Our hearts fill with terror at the thought of harm coming to our loved ones, don’t they? You cannot have love without fear. The two coexist. In you, your alignment with passion instead fed your fear and fury. It made you darker. The more you love someone, the more unsteady your powers become. Your growing passion for Enzo made you volatile. It led to you losing control over your powers, powers that had grown to dangerous strengths. That, coupled with your anger and bitterness, has made you incredibly unpredictable.”

“What are you saying?” I whisper through my tears.

Raffaele continues to pull on my energy, and his gentle touch sends waves of sadness washing over me. He feels guilty, I realize. “Adelina,” he murmurs. Oh. I gasp in sudden pain. I’m surprised that this is what finally breaks my heart. He has never, ever called me just Adelina before, not even when we first met. He is breaking his affectionate ties with me. “I advised Enzo from the very beginning to kill you. He refused.”

I begin to cry. A memory comes to me of my afternoon with Raffaele, when we sat together along the golden waters of Estenzia’s canals and watched the gondolas go by, when he sang me my mother’s lullaby. Dante was right. Raffaele, kind, beautiful, sensual Raffaele, whom I cared about with all my heart, the only person in the world I thought I could trust entirely, the person I returned to the Daggers to help save, had never trusted me in return. Kindness with strings attached. He was the last thread suspending me in the light. Without him, I can feel myself spiraling downward, falling to a place where I can no longer pull myself back up.

“Even you,” I whisper through my tears. “How could you?” I don’t need to ask to know that Raffaele must have also suggested that Enzo kill the boy who couldn’t control the rains. In some ways, Raffaele had always been the Daggers’ leader. “Were we ever friends?” I say in a small voice. “Did you ever care about me?”

Raffaele winces. I can tell it pains him to tell me this truth, that even as he yearns to give me some comfort, he holds back and hardens his heart. “I stand by my advice to him. I trained you slowly because I didn’t want you to embrace your full powers. I knew, early on, that it could bring all of us suffering—including you.”

Who will ever want you, Adelina? Did you honestly think you could escape who you are? You will never fit in anywhere. My father’s ghost materializes beside me, his breath heavy and cold against my skin, his familiar voice hissing in my ear. No one else reacts to his presence, though. He is an illusion that tortures only me.

“We can fix it,” I say. My hand clenches harder around Raffaele’s. One last, frantic attempt. “You told me once that there were rumors of an Elite who could bring the dead back to life. Right?”

Raffaele shakes his head. “You’re deluding yourself, Adelina,” he says gently, and I know that he isn’t talking about the impossibility of bringing Enzo back. He’s talking about Enzo’s love for me.

He cared. He risked his life for me. In desperation, I reach out with my energy and conjure an illusion of emotions around Raffaele, trying to convince him that Enzo loved me, if even briefly, if even in a moment of weakness—trying to convince him that he cares for me. My words come faster. “I’ll learn how to rein in my powers—I promise, I can do it next time. Just give me one more chance.”

Raffaele closes his eyes. I feel him resisting the illusion being woven around him. “Don’t,” he whispers.

“Please,” I whisper back in a breaking voice. “You’ve always been kind to me. Don’t leave me behind, I beg you. I will be lost without you. What will I do? How will I learn?”

When Raffaele opens his eyes again, they look glossy with unshed tears. He reaches out to smooth hair away from the ruined side of my face. “You have goodness in your heart,” he says. “But your darkness overwhelms it all; your desire to hurt, destroy, and avenge is more powerful than your desire to love, help, and light the way. I have reached the limits of my knowledge. I don’t know how to train you.”

Beauty and pain go hand in hand, my father always said. For an instant, I fantasize about making Raffaele feel the pain that he’s giving to me, forcing him to cower before me in agony. How satisfying that would be. My energy swells in anticipation. Then I recoil in horror at the spark of joy I felt at such a depraved act. He’s right about me. He’s always been right.

Raffaele tightens his lips. Tears no longer shine in his eyes. Maybe I imagined them all along. “You can stay the night here,” he says. “But in the morning, you and your sister need to leave. It is my job to protect the Daggers, and I no longer feel that we can be safe with you among us. I’m sorry.”

He’s casting me out. I’m no longer one of them.

Darkness swirls within me, washing at the shores of my consciousness. I see all the times I trained with Enzo, how he saved my life and took me in, how we kissed, the glow of his silhouette in the darkness, the way his hair would fall, loose and unruly, over his shoulders, his gentle expression. Then I see the stormy night when my father made a deal to sell me, the first time I called on my illusions in the middle of pouring rain, the real reason why Enzo chose to save me on my execution day, all the times I was hurt and abused, left behind and abandoned, the iron stake and the fire and the people chanting below, wishing me dead and gone, Teren’s pale eyes staring back at me, the Daggers, my training, Dante’s sneering face, Raffaele’s betrayal. The ambition churning in me reaches its peak, displacing my sorrow, fusing with my anger and hate and fear, my passion and curiosity. The whispers that lurk in the back of my mind now claw their way out into the open, their fingers long and bony, gleeful for the freedom I’m giving them. Are the Daggers any different from your father, who wanted to sell you to settle his debts? they hiss at me. From Teren, who wanted to use you to get to the Daggers? Even the training cavern, hidden underground, was not a far stretch from the Inquisition’s dungeons.