The Rose Society (The Young Elites #2)(90)

Then I see the flicker of fire and light overhead, and turn my face in its direction. I kick out as hard as I can. The sky draws closer.

I break through the surface of the sea. The muted sounds around me turn deafening. I turn my face up to the sky to witness the terrifying illusion I’ve painted across the stormy night—a monstrous creature made of ocean and storm grows, covering nearly the entire expanse of sky, its eyes burning crimson, its fanged mouth so wide that it stretches from one end of its face all the way to the other. It lets out an earthshaking shriek. I feel the call from deep in my bones. On board the ships closest to me, Inquisitors and Beldish soldiers alike drop to their knees, shielding their faces in horror.

Suddenly, a curtain of wind pushes me up out of the water. Lucent? No, there is an arm around me, strong and sturdy. It’s Magiano, mimicking her. I see wood debris, then the massive hull of a ship. The queen’s ship. He sends us surging over the side of the ship. His arm wraps tightly around my waist.

We soar over the railing and land hard against the ship’s deck. The impact knocks me down. I roll a few times, then come to a stop. Immediately I try to struggle to my feet. I fight for air. Nearby, Magiano pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, then leaps to his feet. Soldiers and sailors are everywhere, manning the cannons and firing flaming arrows in the direction of Kenettran ships. My tether trembles. Enzo is already here, crouching on the ship’s deck. Michel is up in the rigging, and Raffaele stands at the bow, his eyes turned right on us.

Another balira soars over our heads. An instant later, Teren lands in a flurry of white armor and robes, his Inquisition cloak fanning all around him in a soaked circle. His eyes glint with the light of insanity, madder than I’ve ever seen.

A curtain of water splashes down on us, and I look up to see Maeve leap from her balira and onto the deck in a graceful crouch. Lucent follows behind her, carried on a curtain of wind.

“Surrender,” Teren shouts at Maeve. “And give your navy the order to retreat.” It is a strange sight, seeing the Inquisition standing with us. Rain drips down Teren’s chin. “Or this bay will be your grave, Your Majesty.”

Maeve laughs. She nods toward the ocean, where Beldish warships continue to push steadily forward. “Does this look like we should surrender, Master Santoro?” she shouts back, her voice raw and harsh. “We’ll sit on your throne by noon.” Then she nods at her youngest brother, and Tristan lunges forward. He moves with terrifying speed. One moment, he is rushing toward us with sword drawn—the next, he has reached Teren and slashes at him with the blade. I’m suddenly reminded of Dante, the Spider, my first kill, and the memory sends energy rushing through me. He will cut Teren in half.

But Teren wastes no time. He draws two blades from his belt, lowers his head, and smiles at Tristan. He blocks the prince’s attack—the sound of metal against metal rings out.

Beside me, Magiano whirls and launches into the air. His braids are swept behind his shoulders by gusts of wind, soaked through and glittering with rain and ocean, and in this instant, I do not see a mortal, but the angel of Joy, his wild ecstasy permeating everything around him, his power overwhelming. I can see him taking in a deep breath of air. He is surrounded by Elites. His power has reached its height.

He sends a blast of wind hurtling at Maeve. It knocks her clear off her feet. At the same time, he sends a column of fire racing toward her. Lucent manages to move in time, carrying Maeve on another curtain of wind out of danger—but only barely. Magiano rushes forward at them, daggers drawn, and hurls one at Maeve.

The dagger unwinds before it can ever reach her. It reappears in Michel’s hand.

He sends another dagger hurtling in Raffaele’s direction. This one nearly hits him straight in the throat. Enzo is the one who saves him this time—the prince is a blur of motion, leaping into the path and deflecting the dagger with his own sword. He shoots Magiano a deadly glare. At the same time, Raffaele hurls something in my direction that glints in the darkness. A glass vial. It shatters at my feet.

I jump back just as a creature darts from between the broken shards. It’s a tiny thing—flesh-colored, with what seems like hundreds of legs. Its jaws seek my feet. I jump again as it lunges forward.

When the creature snaps at me a third time, I stamp on it hard with the heel of my boot. I manage to catch its back half. It writhes, trying to bite me, but I pull out my dagger and stab it, crushing its body against the floorboards.

My energy roars in my ears. The battle all around us has fed me to an uncontrollable level. The color of the ocean around us shifts, turning from dark gray to bright silver and then to a brilliant turquoise, lit from within, the illusions fed by my growing power.

I look up to see Michel, swinging from the rigging toward me. I weave an illusion of pain around him. He shudders for an instant—but then I feel him push back with his own strength. He is an artist. He taught me illusions. And now he seems able to see through mine.

“You monster!” he shouts at me. And I know from the pain in his voice that he has already learned of Gemma’s death.

Magiano lands near the helm. He points a dagger up at Michel. The rigging rope Michel is swinging from suddenly unwinds, vanishing, only to reappear on the deck’s floor. Michel’s swing turns into a fall. He plunges towards the deck. Lucent catches him at the last second.

In anger, I lash out toward Lucent with all my strength. My gaze flicks to her hurt wrist—I focus on that, weaving an illusion that increases her pain tenfold. Lucent falls, uttering an anguished cry.