The Rose Society (The Young Elites #2)(27)

Violetta looks sickly pale. “They are going to find us, and kill us for this.”

“Not all of them. Some of them will be impressed by what we’ve done, and join us.”

“This could have been done in a different way.”

I glare at her. “Fine. Next time, you can ask them all nicely. Don’t worry. You still won’t have to dirty your hands with blood.”

Our conversation halts as a figure steps into the alley, a dark silhouette with light from the market at his back. When he draws closer, I recognize the cat eyes looking at us from behind a half veil. A knot of braids sits high on his head.

“You came back,” I whisper.

Magiano leans close. “Okay,” he starts. The veil muffles his voice. “Why did you do that?”

“Because he was charging at us with a sword.”

“But—” Magiano sputters. “You were doing just fine. You could have both run away. That was the other option, you know, aside from murder. You should consider it sometime, because it works splendidly.”

“Did you even make sure that you got your diamond pin?” I ask. Before he can give us a haughty smile and reach into his pocket, I nod at Violetta, who takes out the real diamond pin from within her silks.

Magiano blinks. His brow furrows. Then he digs in his pocket for the false pin he thought he had stored safely away. As expected, his hands come up empty. He glances quickly back at us. A quiet moment passes.

“We win,” I say, flashing the pin. My hand is still shaking from what happened, but I hope he doesn’t notice.

“You have not told me of all your powers,” he says. He glances at Violetta again, and I imagine that he must be reaching out, trying to mimic her power. His eyes open wider as she pulls on his energy. He can’t, I realize. “You took my power away,” he whispers. His eyes dart back to me. “No wonder I couldn’t sense your illusions during your dance. You tricked me.”

“Only for a moment,” Violetta admits. “I can’t hold it back for long.”

I expect Magiano to be furious, or at least indignant. Instead, his pupils turn round, and a small grin plays underneath the fabric of his veil. “You tricked me,” he says again.

I’m silent. Everything seemed so crystal clear in the middle of the action. Now that we are here, and my body is weak and spent, I’m having trouble remembering all that took place. The same dizziness washes over me that I’d felt after Dante’s death, and Enzo’s. I close my eye and lean against the wall, trying not to think about the Night King’s blood spilling across the ground. If I’m not careful, I will conjure the illusion of him right here, his snarling face still pointed up at me.

After a while, Magiano folds his arms. “The Night King has ruled here for decades. I don’t think you understand the true weight of what you’ve done.” He pauses and lifts the veil to look more closely at us. “Or perhaps you do understand. By morning, every person in Merroutas will have heard your name. They will wonder and whisper over the White Wolf. They will fear you.” He shakes his head again, and this time, it is in admiration. “You may have just earned yourself an army of mercenaries.”

My heart starts to pound. No look of disgust from Magiano for what I did. No pitying gaze or wary expression. Admiration. After I killed a man. I don’t know how to feel. A sense of horror? Pride?

Violetta hands him the diamond pin. “Take it. You’re the one who wanted it.”

Magiano turns the pin over in his hands with a look of reverence.

“Why did you come back to help us?” I ask. “Does that mean …” I can’t quite bring myself to say it without hearing it first from him.

Magiano leans back against the wall and pulls his veil down. He gives us a wry look. “Do you know how much more notorious I could have been, if you were always close enough for me to mimic your power? Do you know what I could do, if we traveled together? And your sister, with her ability to take away an Elite’s power?” He looks curiously at her, and she coughs uncomfortably under his gaze. “Very interesting,” he murmurs. “Very interesting, indeed.”

I stand there and listen, still lost in a haze. I find myself wondering what he aligns with. Ambition. Greed. Something wicked, perhaps, like me. Again, I find myself wondering what’s going through his thoughts.

If you were able to kill a king, then perhaps you really can strike back against the Inquisition.

“Are you going to join us?” I ask.

He studies my face. Then he holds out a hand to me.





Raffaele Laurent Bessette


Raffaele sits atop a horse and enters the Estenzian gates behind Queen Maeve. With them are three of her brothers. Two of them, Augustine and Kester, ride beside her. Kester is an Elite, although Raffaele has yet to see his power in action. And the third brother is the youngest, the prince with the eerie energy, Tristan. Maeve’s white tiger prowls in front of her horse.

Raffaele keeps his head high and eyes level. A long blue cape trails behind him and spills down the hindquarters of his steed. Gold shackles adorn his wrists and neck. Inquisitors have fenced off a wide path for Maeve and her companions. People have turned out in droves to see her. They bow their heads, but with Inquisitors lining the path, they seem too afraid to cheer or applaud the malfetto queen. When they do dare to look up, they take in the sight of her enormous white cat with awe.