I unravel my illusion again, until Teren is holding my face in his hands, staring into my broken features. He stares at me a moment longer. Gradually, his energy calms as he recognizes me. He bares his teeth, releases me in disgust, and turns away. I’m shaking from how close I was to his rage. He wanted to crush me in his hands. Enzo had said that Teren was madly in love with the queen … but this … this is not love. This is obsession.

“You once said that I belong with you,” I call out. “Instead of with the Daggers.”

Teren pauses to turn his head slightly in my direction. In the waning light, all I can see of his features is an outline of his profile. It reminds me of how I saw him in the very beginning, his profile framed by light on the day of my burning, how he came over to me and threw a burning torch at my feet.

“The only way to get what you want in this world,” I say, “is to do it yourself. No one else will help you in this. The only way is if you are on the Kenettran throne.”

Teren laughs a little. “And why, my dear Adelina, would you want that?” He ignores Magiano and steps toward me. “I almost killed you. I killed your lover.”

An image of Enzo dying on the ground, of me crying over his body, flashes at me. I hate you, Teren, I think as I stare at him. I hate you, and someday I will kill you. But first, I will use you.

“Because,” I say, tilting my head up, “the Daggers also wanted me dead. Because they would have killed me.” I step closer. “How can I love a traitor?” I say, echoing Teren’s words. He raises one eyebrow in surprise. I have unsettled even him. “I would sooner die than see them take the throne.” I raise my hands then, and call the threads around us. The darkness in Teren’s heart feeds my power, giving me the fuel I need.

Flames erupt all around us. They explode from my body, rush along the ground, roar up the walls and the statues of the gods, up to the ceiling, eating up the dim blues and replacing them with searing gold and orange and white, leaving no space untouched except the spots where each of us stand. The entire temple is ablaze. The illusion of heat burns the edges of Teren’s clothes and threatens to peel away his skin.

“The Beldish queen has already sent for her navy,” I call out above the roar of fire. “There will be war. She has been working with the Daggers this entire time.” I nod at Teren. “You were right to suspect Raffaele.”

“How do you know this?” Teren snaps.

“I overheard the Daggers.” I narrow my eye. “And I would like nothing more than to see their plans turn to ash.” Around us, the insides of the temple turn black and charred.

Teren smiles at me. He takes a step closer. “Ah, mi Adelinetta,” he says. His eyes soften in a way that surprises me. “I have missed you. You, more than any other abomination, understand what we truly are.” He shakes his head. “Had I known you when I was a young boy …” He lets that sentence die, leaving me curious.

My hatred for him rises like bile and I grit my teeth, letting my illusion of fire die out, and we’re left to stand in the charred remains of the temple. Then that, too, disappears, returning our surroundings to normal.

Teren’s eyes glow with an unstable light, and I know that I have reached his tipping point, that any doubt he might have for helping me will be overshadowed by his desire to strike back against the Daggers. “What are you planning, little wolf?” he says. “The Daggers have already wedged their way to the queen’s side. She has already sent for them for tomorrow morning.”

My hands tremble at my sides, but I press them harder against my legs. “Then lead us into the palace, Master Santoro. Tomorrow morning.” I look beside me, where Magiano watches with slitted eyes. “And we will destroy the Daggers for you.”

Maeve Jacqueline Kelly Corrigan

The lookout in the crow’s nest is the first to give the signal. He rushes down from the mast to kneel in front of his queen. “Your Majesty,” he says breathlessly before Maeve. “I saw the signal far out at sea. Your ships. They’re here.”

Maeve gathers her furs around her neck and puts a hand on the hilt of her sword. She walks to the edge of the deck. The ocean looks like an expanse of black nothingness from here. But if her lookout is to be believed, he saw two bright flashes out in the midst of that darkness. Her navy has arrived.

She looks to her side. Aside from her brothers, the Daggers are also up on deck. Lucent bows her head, while Raffaele folds his hands into his sleeves. “Messenger,” Maeve calls to him. “You say Giulietta has asked for your audience tomorrow morning?”

Raffaele nods. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he replies.

“And Master Santoro?”

“He should already have left the city, Your Majesty.” Raffaele gives her as level a look as he always has, but underneath it, Maeve senses his distance. He has not forgiven her for what she did to Enzo.

“Good.” The wind whips Maeve’s high braid over her shoulder. Her tiger utters a low growl at her side, and she pats his head absently. “It’s time for us to strike.” She hands Raffaele a tiny vial. At first glance, the vial seems to contain nothing but clear water and a tiny, insignificant pearl. The Daggers draw near for a better look. Maeve gives the bottle a light tap.

The pearl transforms in an instant, shifting from its round shape into a writhing, dozen-legged monster hardly an inch long. Maeve can see its needle-like claws raking against the glass, and the way it swims through the water in a jagged, furious motion. The Daggers back away. Gemma puts a hand over her mouth, while Michel looks sickly pale.