I should. A part of me thrills at the thought of seeing the betrayal on Raffaele’s face. But instead, I lead them onward to the palace and down toward the dungeons. As we near Teren’s chamber, Raffaele seems to slow in his steps, as if the very air around us exhausts him. He must be able to sense Teren’s dark whirlwind of energy, and its effect is weighing him down.
Beside him is Violetta. She seems tired from the time spent on the deck last night, because she cannot stand on her own this morning. Sergio carries her. He does so without much effort, while Violetta clings to him as if she might fall apart. At least she’s awake. I force myself to look away from her.
When we reach the door to Teren’s dungeon, Sergio waves away the guards posted on either side. “No,” he tells them when they start to follow us in, as they normally would. “We’ll go alone.” The guards exchange a hesitant look, but Sergio just gives them a grim nod. They bow their heads and don’t challenge him.
We enter the chamber.
Sergio had sent word ahead of us that the Inquisitors posted inside the dungeon should leave today. So the chamber is empty, the sounds of the moat’s water amplified by their absence. The only figure in here sits crouched in the center of the rocky island, his tattered prison robes spread around him in a circle. He looks up when we enter. The dark shadows under his eyes seem even deeper than I remember, giving him a haunted look. Dried blood covers his wrists in a ring, and when I look closer, I can see the brighter, wetter appearance of fresh blood as well.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Magiano asks as we gather at the edge of the moat. “You can talk to him from here, can’t you?”
“I can,” I reply, even though both of us know the real answer. “But we cannot travel with someone who must be separated from us by chains and a moat.”
Magiano doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives my hand a subtle squeeze. His touch sends a spark of warmth through me.
Raffaele glances at Violetta. I look at my sister resting against Sergio’s shoulders. She stirs, her face ashen pale, then lets Sergio help her step gingerly down. Her energy lurches as she draws closer to me, and a cloud of fear hovers over her. I can’t tell whether her fear is because of Teren or me—or us both. Still, she doesn’t back away. She turns her attention to Teren’s direction, closes her hand into a fist, and pulls.
Teren’s eyes widen. He lets out a sharp gasp, then hunches over, his hands clawing at the rock beneath him. I recoil even as I watch this. I know the feeling well—it’s as if the air has suddenly been sucked out of my lungs, and the threads that make up my body are pulled taut until they threaten to snap. Teren lets out a soft groan, then looks at us again with hatred in his eyes.
Violetta puts her arm down and takes a deep breath. She’s shaking slightly; the lantern light in here highlights the trembling of her robes. Does she even have enough strength to use her power? “He’s ready,” she whispers.
Sergio affixes the rope bridge that will take us across the moat. Teren watches our approach, his eyes first on me, then on Raffaele. His stare lingers on Raffaele’s face. I glance back at Raffaele, searching his expression for a reaction—but true to his consort training, he has resumed a calm state, his fear now a subtle undercurrent beneath a veil of steel. He meets Teren’s gaze with his own level one. If he has noticed Teren’s wrist wounds, it doesn’t show.
“Well, Your Majesty,” Teren says in his usual taunting tone, addressing me without withdrawing his eyes from Raffaele’s face. A small smile plays on his lips, sending a chill down my spine. “You’ve brought a mutual enemy with you this time. Your tastes in torture seem to have evolved.”
“He’s even friendlier than I remember,” Magiano mutters from the other side of the moat.
I say nothing. Instead, I wait until we have gathered a few feet away from him, settling at the safe distance that Teren can’t reach in his chains.
Teren’s eyes find me again. “Why is he here?” he asks in a low voice.
I turn back to Sergio and nod. “Unchain him.”
Surprise flickers across Teren’s face. He stiffens as Sergio walks over, one hand resting on his sword hilt, and bends down to Teren’s wrists. Sergio twists a key in the shackles. They clatter one by one to the ground.
I brace myself. Teren lunged for me the last time I visited him in the dungeons—he may do so again now, even with his powers taken away. But instead, he just pushes himself to his feet and stares at me.
“What do you want now, little wolf?” he says.
At the shore across the moat, Magiano shifts. I can sense his unease, and my energy reaches for it. I let it strengthen me. I have lied to Teren before; I can do it again. “Haven’t you always hated the existence of the Elites, Teren?” I ask. “Haven’t you always hoped to see us destroyed, taken to the Underworld?”
Teren doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to, of course—everyone knows his answers to these questions.
“Well,” I reply, “I think the gods may grant your wish after all.”
Teren’s eerie smile vanishes. “Do not play games with the gods, Adelina,” he says.
“Do you want to hear more?”
Teren sneers at me. He takes a step closer, close enough that if he wanted to, he could reach out and seize my throat. “Do I have a choice?”
“We can leave, of course. You can go back into your shackles. You can crouch here for all of eternity, never again seeing the light of day, never dying. That is a part of your power too, isn’t it? Too strong, too invincible to die and end your own misery? What irony.” I tilt my head at him. “So. Do you want to hear more?”