I have always done the best I could, and yet, somehow, it has never been enough. No one cared what I did. They always turned their backs on me.

Why can’t I be like that? Why can’t I be the father who just shrugs off the love of his daughter? Why can’t I be the Lead Inquisitor who enjoys watching his pleading victims burn at the stake? Why can’t I be the one who befriends a lonely, lost girl and then casts her out? Why can’t I be the one to strike first, to hit so early and with such fury that my enemies cower before they can ever think of turning on me?

What is so great about being good?

One of the mercenaries meets my gaze. “White Wolf,” he whispers, barely able to get the words out.

I stare back into his wide eyes. The fact that he recognizes my power and knows my Elite name would have frightened me, once—some will know that I was here, many will be after me. But I am not afraid, not at all. Let them know who did this, and let word of it get back to Kenettra.

“I can give you more than he ever did,” I reply, nodding once at the Night King’s body.

A whistle sounds out above us. I jerk my head up to see Magiano perched on the top of the wall. He scowls, then throws a rope to us. I just manage to shield my face with my arms before the rope hits me.

“You’re helping us?” Violetta calls up at him from her place by the wall.

Magiano puts something against the edge of the wall, then tightens the rope on top of it. “Help is a strong word for what I’m doing,” he calls, before vanishing over the top. Some of the mercenaries have broken out of their trance—they draw their weapons and lunge for us. I react the only way I know how. I throw invisibility over us, then seize the rope. Violetta grabs hold as well. The instant we do, the rope yanks us up into the air. As the mercenaries pause below us, we fly to the top of the wall and pull ourselves over. Violetta gets her footing first and helps me scramble to the other side. We jump down, tumbling several times before staggering to our feet.

Outside the estate, more soldiers race toward us. I feel the sudden sag of lost energy now, and my curtain over us flickers in and out, leaving us exposed. An arrow sings past my shoulder, nicking my sleeve. We rush toward the shadows of the closest alleyway, but the soldiers pursue us. They’re going to cut us off.

Suddenly, an illusion goes up behind us—a brick wall, as solid in appearance as something real. The soldiers send up bewildered shouts. Violetta glances back, startled, and then looks down at herself. We are invisible. Overhead, Magiano whistles at us again. He is mimicking me, I realize. And he’s protecting us.

As we run through a maze of narrow alleys, Magiano continues to create rapid illusions behind us, slowing the soldiers down until they sound far away. We dash through corridors of smoke and spice sacks, listening to the call of merchants blur into one long note around us. People make startled sounds whenever our invisible figures bump into them. We run for a long time, until we finally turn from the narrow marketplaces onto a quiet street, with nothing but lines of damp clothing hanging above us.

Magiano is nowhere to be seen. I slide down the wall until I’m crouched with my knees to my chin. I lower my head into my hands. Violetta does the same. Sweat beads our foreheads, and our breaths come at rapid speed. I can’t stop shaking. The terror that comes over someone before death is one of the sharpest surges of energy I can feel, and the death of the Night King now catches up to me. I want to lash out at something, anything, but I hold back and try to steady my breathing. Calm down. All I can do is picture the Night King’s shocked expression, the blood pooling around him. The scene plays over and over. My thoughts are a blur.

Violetta’s hand touches my shoulder. She tugs hesitantly at my power, asking permission to take it away if I desire. I shake my head. No, I must become used to this.

“You promised,” she says to me.

I glance up at her in surprise. She has narrowed her eyes, and I can sense a tide of anger in her. “I broke no promises,” I reply.

Violetta takes her hand off my shoulder and tightens her jaw so hard that I think it might break. “You said you wouldn’t kill anyone. That you only wanted to frighten them and show off our powers.”

“I said that you wouldn’t kill anyone,” I snap, wiping sweat from my forehead.

“You didn’t have to do it.” Violetta’s voice sharpens. “Now we will be hunted all throughout Merroutas. They will seal the ports, I’m sure of it. How will we leave? Why do you do this?”

“You think they wouldn’t have hunted us if we just intimidated the Night King and stole his pin? Did you see the way his mercenaries looked at me after it was done?”

Violetta looks sickly pale. “They are going to find us, and kill us for this.”

“Not all of them. Some of them will be impressed by what we’ve done, and join us.”

“This could have been done in a different way.”

I glare at her. “Fine. Next time, you can ask them all nicely. Don’t worry. You still won’t have to dirty your hands with blood.”

Our conversation halts as a figure steps into the alley, a dark silhouette with light from the market at his back. When he draws closer, I recognize the cat eyes looking at us from behind a half veil. A knot of braids sits high on his head.

“You came back,” I whisper.

Magiano leans close. “Okay,” he starts. The veil muffles his voice. “Why did you do that?”

“Because he was charging at us with a sword.”

“But—” Magiano sputters. “You were doing just fine. You could have both run away. That was the other option, you know, aside from murder. You should consider it sometime, because it works splendidly.”