Behind us, a few malfettos take up a cry.

The Young Elites!

They’re here!

We dismount when we reach the temple. A horse is already outside, nervously stamping at the ground. Enormous statues stand on either side of the entrance—Laetes, the angel of Joy, and Compasia, the angel of Empathy. I exchange a look with Violetta. “I will go in first,” I whisper to Enzo. “If Teren is here, then I need him to see me alone.”

“Go ahead,” Violetta tells me. She tightens her riding gloves. “I’ll be waiting in the shadows. I won’t let him use his strength against you.”

Enzo turns his horse around and looks toward the horizon, where other malfetto camps have started to burn. Sergio rides up beside him. “My other men are ready to move, should we give the signal,” he says to Enzo.

“No need,” Enzo replies, his eyes still fixed on the rising smoke. “I’ve seen you fight—I trained you myself.” It is the first time he has acknowledged their past. He hoists a blade in one hand, and it gleams in the light. “This will be quick, and quiet.”

Sergio nods in agreement.

Enzo glances at him before he moves. “The Rainmaker,” he says.

Sergio narrows his eyes. “I’ve not forgotten, you know,” he replies. He kicks his horse in its hindquarters. “But we have more important things to settle first.”

Enzo’s eyes flick back to me. He does not ask if I will be okay. His silent approval makes me stand taller. Then he turns away and rides with Sergio toward the smoke in the distance. I turn to Violetta, and together, we head up the steps.

The sun has almost completely set. There are no Inquisitors near the temple, as there is nothing to guard, really, no valuables or jewels—only daily flowers laid at the marble feet of the gods. For once, I have no illusion of invisibility over myself. I walk in plain sight.

The temple is nearly empty. Shafts of evening light penetrate the space from the high windows, painting the air with blue and purple stripes. At the very front of the temple, with his back turned to me, is Teren, crouched low before a statue of Sapientus, the god of Wisdom. I stop at the door, then carefully remove my boots. My bare feet make no sound against the floor.

Teren doesn’t seem to notice my presence. As I draw closer, I can tell that he’s muttering something under his breath. Louder than muttering, actually. He is talking in earnest, his voice angry and rushed. My tether to Enzo hums. I can still feel him nearby. The others must be too. Magiano must be somewhere in the shadows. But if Teren were to move against me right now, would Magiano save me in time? I’m close enough to see the silver lines engraved on his armor. He’s not wearing his Lead Inquisitor cloak.

The last time I saw him, Enzo lay dead at my feet. You don’t belong with them, Teren had said. You belong with me. Perhaps he’s right.

I’m close enough now to hear what he’s saying.

“This is not my mission,” Teren insists. He shakes his head and looks up at the statue. His thin blond tail trails down his upper back, the gold bands on it shining in the light. “You put me in this world for a purpose—I know that purpose, have always known it. But the queen—” Teren pauses. “The Daggers have poisoned her against me. Raffaele—he’s working his demonic magic on her.”

An image appears in my mind of Raffaele seducing the queen. Even Giulietta is no match for his charms.

“I can’t leave her like this,” Teren snaps. His voice echoes through the temple, and I freeze. “She is my superior in every way. I have pledged my entire life to obeying her. But now she wants to send me away, Lord Sapientus. How can I leave her with them?”

He sounds confused now, like he is arguing with himself. His voice changes from grief to confusion, then back to anger. “She’s listening to him. She used to listen to me. She used to hate the malfettos—but now he’s talking her out of our goal. Would she really give up our entire mission of cleansing this country, just to have those abominations fight for her? They are liars and whores, thieves and murderers. They are tricking her, and she is allowing it. Do you know what she said to me when I tried to defend her?” Anger again. “She said I am an abomination, like them.” His voice takes on a frightening tone now, somewhere between the borders of fury and madness. “I am not like them. I know my place.”

Suddenly he stiffens. I hold my breath. The temple is so silent now that I can hear the rustle of my sleeves brushing against the sides of my robes. For an instant, I think he might not have heard me.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Teren whirls from his crouched position, draws his sword, and points it straight at me. His eyes are chilling, his black pupils floating within them like drops of ink on glass. His cheeks are wet, to my surprise.

His eyes widen a little at the sight of me, then narrow again. “You,” he murmurs. Gradually, his grief fades away, hidden behind a shield, until all I can see is the cold, calculating smile I remember, his eyes still dancing with the light of madness. “Adelina,” he says, his voice turning silky smooth. “What’s this?” He takes a step toward me, his sword still pointed at my neck. “Has the White Wolf finally decided to stop hiding? Did the Daggers send you?”

“I am not a Dagger,” I reply. My own voice sounds even colder than I remember. I take a step toward him, forcing my head to stay high. “And it sounds to me like you can’t seem to remove their thorn from your side.”