The Young Elites (The Young Elites 1)

His kiss goes on and on—I have trouble keeping my thoughts straight now. My hand slides from the back of his neck to the part of his throat exposed by his shirt. I push the linen farther aside, revealing bare skin, then the smooth line of his collarbone, then the curve of his brown shoulder. My fingers run across a scar there. He takes my hand, pulls it away from his skin, and pins it firmly to the wall over my head. His kisses wander down to my neck. Heat ripples in rings across my skin each time his lips make contact. My toes curl. I’m going to fall, I’m sure of it—but he holds me steady. The edges of my skirts are sliding higher, leaving wet streaks on my legs. His gloved hands. Soft leather against my skin. Then another wave of liquid fire bubbles through my body, and I can think of nothing else. The tiny raindrops landing on my lips and skin are pinpricks of ice against the heat coursing through me. I delight in the contrast. When I squint into the drizzle, I see the steam of my breath curling up into the night sky. A strange tingle runs through my toes. I cannot think—I’m losing control over my powers. Threads of my energy start to snake out of my chest, searching for Enzo’s heart, wrapping its strings around his own, clouding them with darkness.

This is dangerous. A small light of warning flashes inside me, and with all my strength, I force my illusions back under control. “Stop,” I whisper, pushing away.

He pulls back immediately, taking the heat of his energy with him. My body cools. He looks confused, as if he can’t quite remember what’s just happened. His eyes search my face. The moment ends, and all of my dark thoughts return in a rush, leaving me weak and nauseous. My skin tingles. What had my energy been trying to do? I can still feel the remnants of its dark threads, still eager to seek out Enzo, to overwhelm him.

“I’m not seventeen yet,” I decide to say. “I cannot give myself away.”

Enzo nods. “Of course.” He suddenly seems to recognize me again, the familiarity returning to his eyes, and the expression puzzles me. He gives me a small smile that seems tinged with apology. “Let’s not anger the gods, then.”

He guides us out of the courtyard and back into the hall. We walk in silence, my heartbeat keeping time with our footsteps. Finally, we reach my chamber door. Enzo doesn’t linger. Instead, he gives me a courteous bow and bids me good night. I watch him go until he turns a corner and disappears. Then I enter my chamber.

The room is dark, the reflections of rain on the windows painting moving shadows against the walls. I stand against the door for a while, replaying our kiss in my mind. My cheeks stay hot. Long minutes drag by, until I have no idea how long I’ve been here like this. Had I run my hand along the naked skin of his throat, the line of his collarbone, his exposed shoulder? Had my energy surged out of control, seeking to wrap itself around him?

I have to tell him.

I’m an official Elite now; I should be able to tell the Daggers everything. Enzo had confided in me that he had some sort of history with Teren—if I should tell anyone about what Teren whispered to me, I should be able to tell him. Suddenly, I find myself moving toward the door again. I step out, then follow the corridor the way I’d come. I will never have another chance like this.

The sky is completely dark by the time I make my way back down the corridor, the candles lining the hall are already lit, and the sound of rain beats steadily against the roofs. I head down to the cavern. Laughter and conversation drift from the space. Everyone must still be down here, and by the sound of it, the wine’s still flowing freely. My hands tremble as I walk.

I reach the hall leading into the cavern, then pause behind the final pillar that overlooks the room. Here and there, I catch a glimpse of Enzo’s crimson hair. The sight of him sends my heart pounding. I’m one of them now. They are my friends and allies. They deserve to know. I start to step out.

Then I stop.

Dante has pulled Enzo aside. They exchange a few words, and then Dante nods toward my hallway. They walk in my direction, seeking out the corridor for a private chat. I tense. They’ll discover me here. For some reason, fear or curiosity or suspicion, I shrink back into the shadows and conjure a curtain of invisibility around myself. I paint the illusion of an empty hall over me, blending myself in with the shadows of the wall and pillar. Then I hold my breath.

What are they talking about? Beside me, my father’s ghost appears without warning, his shattered chest heaving, his mouth twisted into a dark smile. He places a skeletal hand on my shoulder and points at their approaching figures. Do you see that? he whispers in my ear, turning my insides to ice. Let’s listen to what your enemy has to say to your love.

I want to ignore his voice, but when Enzo and Dante finally reach the hall and come to a stop barely a dozen feet away from me, I catch their conversation. They’re talking about me.

And Moritas rose out of the Underworld with such fury in her eyes that all who saw her fell to their knees, and all wept,

begging her forgiveness. But Moritas had no desire to forgive.

She called on the earth, the earth trembled, and the mountains

buried the village in ash and stone.

—An account of the destruction of Teaza Island, by Captain Ikazara Terune

Adelina Amouteru

My heart hammers loudly against my ribs. I pray to the gods that they can’t hear it.

“—but the point is, she was recognized,” Dante says. The mere sound of his voice sends a tremor of anger through me, bringing back with it the memory of his threats during my training. “And not only was she recognized, I saw them talking to each other.” He scowls. “Has she told you what words she exchanged with him?”