I should have heeded Sergio’s warning.
“Adelina.” Magiano is calling my name. He’s standing over the unconscious man, dagger still drawn, giving me a questioning look.
“Get him out of the street,” I command. My voice comes out weak and hoarse. “And have him sent to the Inquisition Tower.”
Magiano doesn’t hesitate. He drags the protestor to the side of the street, out of the way of the carriage, and then waves a hand at the two nearest Inquisitors. “You heard the queen,” he calls out. As he passes my window, I overhear him mutter something to one of the Inquisition soldiers behind my carriage. “Keep a better eye on our path,” he says, “or I’ll make sure you are all tried for treason.”
What if some of my own men are starting to slack on their responsibilities too? What if they want me dead? I turn back to the scene outside, refusing to show even a hint of insecurity, daring them to challenge me.
“That’s better.” Magiano’s voice drifts over again from outside, and an instant later he’s hopped through the window and seated himself right beside me in the carriage, bringing with him the scent of the wind. “I don’t remember protests happening quite this often,” he adds. His tone is lighthearted, but I recognize it as the one he takes on when he’s concerned.
My side is pressed against his, and I find myself hoping that he stays in here with me for the rest of the ride. “When we reach the palace,” I say softly, “have the Inquisitors brought to the tower for questioning. I don’t want a rat in my midst, plotting behind my back.”
Magiano watches me carefully. “It will be impossible to catch all the rats, my love,” he says. His hand brushes against mine. “Sooner or later, one will squeeze through the cracks. You need to be more careful.”
What a funny thing to say. Perhaps he is the rat. The whispers dissolve into laughter.
“In good time,” I reply, “we won’t have to use violence to get our way. The people will eventually realize that the marked are here now, that we will remain in power. Then we can live in peace.”
“Peace,” Magiano replies, still lighthearted. He hops back up and crouches on the seat. “Of course.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “No one is forcing you to stay here, of course, in service to me. You are free to come and go as you wish. You’re an Elite, after all. The greatest of mankind.”
Magiano frowns. “No,” he agrees. “No one is forcing me to stay.”
There’s another emotion buried in his words. I blush. I’m about to add something, but then he nods politely and hops through the window again. “Happy ride, Your Majesty,” he calls. “I’ll be in the baths, soaking off the dirt of this journey.”
I’m tempted to get out of the carriage with him, and let him take us both away to the baths—but instead I slump back in my seat. There is a tightness in my chest now that I work to unknot. I’ll find Magiano later, apologize to him for dismissing his companionship so carelessly, thank him for always watching me from a distance.
Perhaps it’s not you he’s protecting, the whispers taunt, but his own fortune. Why hurt the queen who holds the strings of his purse? Why else does he stay?
Maybe they’re right. The whispers burrow into my mind, digging their little claws in deeper, and the rest of the ride passes in silence. Finally, we reach the gates at the back of the palace, and the carriages roll into the royal grounds.
I have been the Queen of Kenettra for a year. And yet, entering the palace grounds still feels strange and surreal. This had once been where Enzo, as a child, had dueled with a young Teren in the courtyards, where Teren had watched the princess Giulietta from his hiding place in the trees. Enzo’s steps had graced these paths, had been pointed at the throne room where he was meant to sit, what I had once wanted to help him achieve. Now he is gone, an abomination somewhere on the other side of the ocean. Even his sister has long passed into the Underworld, and Teren is my prisoner.
I am the one sitting in the throne room.
Alone. Just the way you like it. I have to force away the image of my sister’s face, the tears I’d seen on her cheeks as she turned her back on me for the last time. I push aside a vision of Enzo and his look of utter hatred as we faced each other on the deck of Queen Maeve’s ship. As if in response, the tether between us pulls taut for a moment, making me gasp.
Sometimes I wonder if it is Enzo trying to reach out through the miles separating us, attempting to control me. I do the same back. But he is too far away.
Sergio opens my carriage door, offering me his arm as I step down. Several Inquisitors are waiting to greet us, and when they see me, they lower their heads. I pause for a moment before we enter the palace to look at each of them. “We’ve won a stunning victory. Go bathe, drink, and rest. I will tell your captains to clear your training schedules for today. Remember, you are a part of my personal guard now, and you will be afforded every luxury. If anyone fails to meet your expectations, report them to me, and I will see to their immediate removal.”
Their eyes light up at that. I leave them before they can respond. Let them know me as their benefactor, the one who gave them everything they could ever desire. It should keep them loyal.
As the Inquisitors scatter, I walk with Sergio toward a small side entrance. He waves two of his former mercenaries over to follow me. We pass the front of the procession, and as we go, I see Magiano lounging near the back entrance of the palace, dressed as if ready to head for the baths, while one of the royal maids hands him his cloak. She’s a girl I’ve seen talking to him on several occasions. Today, something she says is making him laugh. Magiano smiles and shakes his head at her before heading off in the direction of the baths.
They’re mocking you behind your back, the whispers say. You heard them laughing, didn’t you? What makes you think your precious thief will stay by your side? As they talk, the scene I’d just witnessed morphs in my memory so that, instead, I imagine seeing the maid run her hand through Magiano’s braids, kissing his lips, and him responding by squeezing her arm, murmuring a secret in her ear. My chest burns, filling with fire and pain.
Perhaps you should show them what you’re capable of. They won’t make a fool of you again.
“It’s not real,” I say under my breath. “It’s not real.” Gradually, the illusion fades, and the true scene replaces it again. My heart hammers in my chest as the whispers retreat, chuckling at me.
“The dungeon keeper tells me that they’ve prepared Teren for your visit today,” Sergio says, jerking me out of my thoughts. I turn to him in relief. Based on his expression, he’s saying this for the second time. “He’s been cleaned, beard shaved off, given a new set of clothes.”
“Good,” I answer. Teren had killed several Inquisition guards over the past few months, those who had not been careful in his presence. Now they approach him very rarely, leaving him unkempt. “How is he now?”
“Calm,” Sergio says. He pats the hilt at his side. “Weak.”
Weak? We fall into silence again as we enter the palace and make our way down a poorly lit corridor. The ground slopes slightly until we reach a set of stairs winding into darkness, and here, Sergio takes the lead. I follow him, while other soldiers trail me. Our steps echo down into the depths.
“Rumor has it that the Daggers may be hiding in the Skylands,” Sergio says after a while.
I look at him, but his eyes avoid mine. “Beldain?” I ask. “Is Queen Maeve planning to strike us again?”