He nods once, casually. “Perhaps.”

“You create storms.”

He stands a bit straighter. “I do.” He pauses to glance outside the tiny porthole, where the rain is still coming down. “It’s proven useful enough to the Night King, stealing from stray vessels and in turn destroying pirates that try to take from him. Still, storms require time to begin and end. We’ll have rough seas tonight.”

The boy who could control the rain. It must be him. Raffaele had never explicitly told me what happened to him, only that the Daggers refused to keep him. I thought they killed him—but here he is, alive.

“I’ve heard of you,” I say.

He snorts once. “I doubt that.”

“I used to work for the Daggers too.”

He stiffens immediately at the mention of the Daggers. My heart leaps a little. I was right. “You’re the boy who could not control the rain,” I press on.

Sergio takes a step back and regards me with a suspicious look. “Raffaele talked about me?”

“Yes, once.”

“Why?” Sergio’s entire demeanor has changed—all traces of amusement have disappeared from his face, replaced with something cold and hostile.

“He mentioned you as a warning for me to master my power,” I reply. “I thought they killed you.”

Sergio’s jaw tenses as he turns to watch the storm. He doesn’t answer me. A long moment of silence passes before he looks back to me again with a shrug. “Well, I’m here,” he says stiffly. “So you thought wrong.”

A sharp pain pricks my heart. Raffaele might have told Enzo to do the same thing to me. How can someone so gentle be so cold? Perhaps Raffaele was right on my count, at least—Enzo had refused to hurt me, and his decision destroyed him.

“Raffaele wanted me dead, you know,” I say after a while. “In the beginning. He cast me out after … Enzo’s death. I came here to Merroutas in search of other Elites, to put together a team of my own. I want to strike back at the Inquisition for all that they’ve put us through. We could be a team that far outpaces the Daggers. And together we can succeed.”

“Are you saying you want to seize the throne?” Sergio asks.

I weave a brief illusion around me, trying to emphasize my height and stature, making myself as regal as I can. If I’m going to recruit more Elites, I’m going to need to start looking like a leader. “I told you that I could pay ten times what the Night King paid you. Well, this is my proposal. The Kenettran crown’s treasuries would make the Night King’s pale in comparison.”

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.”