The Young Elites (The Young Elites 1)

What if Teren had seen me out there?

“I’m sorry,” I murmur at the ground, hoping he doesn’t hear in my voice all the reasons why.

Enzo makes no indication that he has accepted my apology. His stare feels like it can burn straight through my skin. “This will be the last time you disobey me.” He says it without a single hesitation, and I realize, with a horrible shudder, that he means exactly what he says. If he finds out about Teren, he really will kill me.

“Tomorrow.” His voice is hard as diamond. “Be at the cavern by dawn. Let’s see how fast you can learn.” Then he breaks the stare, steps away from me, and leaves down the hall.

Windwalker lingers for a moment. She gives me a small nudge and a grudging smile, then extends a hand. “I’m Lucent,” she says.

I take her hand, unsure what to say in return. Another barrier between me and the Daggers breaks down. I don’t know whether to feel joy or guilt.

“That’s his way of showing thanks for your help, by the way,” she says before she turns away. “Congratulations. He’s going to train you himself.”

Teren Santoro

Do you have any idea who Lady Gemma is?”

Teren stays bowed before the king. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Do you realize that Baron Salvatore is her father?”

“I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“You’re a damn fool of a Lead Inquisitor. I cannot afford to anger a nobleman like Baron Salvatore. And he is furious. You do not allow your Inquisitors to threaten his daughter in public and make an embarrassment of me. Even if she is a malfetto. Do you understand?”

“But your decree, Your Majesty—”

The king makes a disgusted sound. “Carry out my decree discreetly.” He leans back in his chair. “And the Young Elites attacked the qualifying races. You still haven’t caught a single one.”

Teren clamps down on his rising frustration. “No, Your Majesty.”

“I should throw you in a dungeon cell.”

Teren keeps his eyes cast down at the throne room’s marble floor. His teeth are clenched. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he says, but furious thoughts swarm in his mind. What a fool of a king. He wants the Elites captured, but he’s too cowardly to jeopardize his political relations. He’s too cowardly to wage real war on malfettos. Teren doesn’t mention aloud that his Inquisitors threatened Lady Gemma on purpose. That it had been the queen’s idea. That the game they play is tightening. Turn the king’s nobles against the king, and he weakens.

And as soon as Adelina delivers her information . . .

Beside the king, Queen Giulietta leans over to whisper something in her husband’s ear. The king just waves her off in annoyance. Teren’s temper flares. Giulietta glances briefly at him.

Patience, my Teren, her eyes seem to say. Everything will fall together.

“The next time you embarrass me,” the king goes on, “I will have your head.”

Teren bows lower. “There won’t be a next time, Your Majesty,” he answers loudly.

The king looks smug and satisfied. He has not understood the double meaning in Teren’s words.

I hereby pledge to serve the Dagger Society, to strike fear into

the hearts of those who rule Kenettra, to take by death

what belongs to us, and to make the power of our Elites known

to every man, woman, and child. Should I break my vow,

let the dagger take from me what I took from the dagger.

—The Dagger Society Initiation Pledge, by Enzo Valenciano

Adelina Amouteru

The next morning, when I go to meet Enzo in the cavern, the sky churns with black clouds, and giant raindrops splatter on me as I hurry through the main courtyard toward the secret entrance. I head down the stairs alone, trying not to think about the last time I’d seen a storm like this.

No disguise on me today. My hair has taken on a dark blue-gray sheen under the stormy sky, the strands pulled tightly away from my face, and my lashes are a dull shade. I’ve even left my porcelain mask behind. My clothing is simple Kenettran garb instead of Tamouran silks, deep blue vest over white linen, dark trousers, dark boots lined with silver trim. I shake water from my hair as I go.

By the time I get to the cavern, Enzo’s already waiting for me. The rest of the space is empty.

He’s dressed in a dark doublet, and his Dagger hood is down, revealing his scarlet red hair. The anger that burned in his eyes last night is now replaced with cold sternness. I’m not entirely sure what he expects me to do, so I stop several feet in front of him and bow my head once. Here, alone, I suddenly feel small—I hadn’t realized how much taller he is than I am.

“Good morning,” I say. “You asked for me, Your Highness, so here I am.”

Enzo watches me. I wonder if he’ll comment on how I’d controlled my illusions yesterday. The memory makes me puff up a bit with pride. Surely he must be proud of that, regardless of the way I did it.

“You want a challenge,” he replies after a pause. His voice reverberates in the empty space.

I lift my chin. “Yes.” I make sure my answer sounds firm.

A faint spark of red shines in his eyes. “Does it excite you, feeling fear?”

I don’t answer. But the words remind me of the chaos that had surrounded me at the races yesterday, and I can’t help the rush of power the memory brings.

“What do you want to learn so badly, Adelina?” Enzo asks.

I give him a level stare. “Everything,” I reply, surprised by my calmness.

He holds out his gloved hands. Tendrils of smoke rise from both of his palms. “I am not Raffaele,” he warns. “Brace yourself.”