Sergio gives me a skeptical look. “The Kenettran crown is guarded by the Inquisition.”

“And I killed the Night King with his own sword.”

Sergio considers my words. The silence ticks by, eclipsed only by the sound of rain and howling wind. He could have worked well with the Windwalker, I find myself thinking. I wonder if Lucent was sad about his absence. I wonder if the other Daggers even know that Sergio is alive. I wonder about his history with the same people I once knew.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally replies.

I nod, but I already know his answer. I can see it in the gleam of his eyes.

Teren Santoro

“You sent for me, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, Master Santoro.” Queen Giulietta sits on her throne and regards him with a calm look. He drinks in her beauty. Today she is in a loose sapphire gown, the train so long that it trails down the top of the stairs. Her hair is pulled high on her head, revealing her slender neck, and her eyes are large and very, very dark, framed by long lashes. Her crown reflects the morning light filtering through the windows, making tiny rainbows on the floor of the throne room.

She says nothing more. She’s angry.

Teren decides to speak first. “I apologize, Your Majesty.”

Giulietta considers him with her chin resting on her hand. “Why?”

“For my public disgrace of the Beldish queen.”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, she rises to her feet. She tucks one of her hands behind her back, and with her other hand, she waves forward one of the Inquisitors waiting along the walls. “You were unhappy with Queen Maeve’s gift to me,” she says as she walks.

Raffaele. Teren suppresses a jolt of anger at the reminder that the malfetto whore is now being held at the palace. “He’s a threat to you,” Teren replies.

Giulietta shrugs. When she reaches him, she looks down at his bowed figure. “Is he?” she says. “I thought you and your Inquisition had him properly chained.”

Teren flushes at that. “We do. He will not escape.”

“Then he’s no threat to me, is he?” Giulietta smiles. “Have you found the rest of the Daggers yet?”

Teren’s whole body tenses. The Daggers were the perpetual thorn in his side. He had cut off the funding of so many of their patrons. He had tortured malfettos affiliated with the Daggers. He had narrowed down their potential location to nearby cities. He knew their names.

But he hadn’t succeeded in capturing them yet. They had scattered to the winds, until yesterday. Teren swallows hard, then bows lower. “I’ve sent additional patrols out to hunt them down—”

Giulietta holds up a hand, stopping him. “A dove came in this morning. Did you hear?”

Teren was too busy this morning with the malfetto slave camps to receive news. “I haven’t yet, Your Majesty,” he says reluctantly.

“The Night King of Merroutas is dead,” Giulietta replies. “Murdered, by an Elite called the White Wolf. Whispers about her have spread everywhere.” She fixes Teren with a stare. “She is Adelina Amouteru, isn’t she? The girl you’ve repeatedly failed to kill.”

Teren stares at a vein in the marble floor. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Teren hears the Inquisitor return, and the telltale sound of metal blades dragging along the ground. “The Night King was our ally in Merroutas,” Giulietta says. “Now there is chaos. My advisers tell me that the city is unstable, and we are vulnerable to a Tamouran attack.”

Adelina. Teren clenches his teeth so hard that he feels like he might break his jaw. So, Adelina is in Merroutas, across the Sacchi Sea … and she had killed the city-state’s ruler. Even as he seethes at the thought of her becoming a real threat, something about her ruthlessness calls to him. Very impressive, my little wolf. “I swear to you, Your Majesty,” he says. “I will send an expedition there immediately—”

Giulietta clears her throat and Teren stops talking. He looks up to see the other Inquisitor approach the queen. He holds a nine-headed whip, each head tipped with a heavy, razor-sharp blade. This is Teren’s custom whip. Teren sighs in relief at the same time that he winces.

He deserves this.

Giulietta folds her hands behind her back and takes a few steps away. “I was told you halved the rations of the malfettos, against my wishes,” she says.

Teren doesn’t ask how she found out. It doesn’t matter.

“Master Santoro, I can be a ruthless queen. But I have no wish to be a cruel one. Cruelty is to hand out unjust punishment. I will not be unjust.”

He keeps his head bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I wanted the camps as a visible punishment that the rest of our citizens can see, but I’ll not have hundreds of rotting corpses outside my walls. I want submission from my people, not revolution. And you are threatening to undo that balance.”

Teren bites his tongue to keep himself from speaking out.

“Remove your armor, Master Santoro,” Giulietta says over her shoulder.

Teren does as she says. His armor clangs, echoing, to the floor. He pulls his tunic over his head. The air hits his bare skin, scarred from countless rounds of punishment. Teren’s pale blue eyes glow in the chamber’s light. He looks at Giulietta.

She gestures at the Inquisitor holding the bladed whip.

He lashes Teren’s back with it. The nine blades strike him, ripping into his skin. Teren chokes down a cry as familiar pain explodes across his body. The edges of his vision flash crimson. His flesh opens before it immediately starts to heal. But the Inquisitor doesn’t wait—he whips the weapon down again as Teren’s skin struggles to stitch itself together.