No. My energy suddenly explodes against him, forcing his power back.
His lips leave mine. He forces himself away, pushing back even as our joint energy protests. The darkness leaves his eyes, returning them to normal, and the hunger that had been on his face moments earlier dissipates, leaving confusion. We stare at each other, trying to figure out what just happened. The tether between us still protests, even now, each of our Elite powers whispering and clawing for the other.
“This doesn’t feel right,” Enzo whispers, taking a step back.
It feels horribly wrong, like a slick of oil coating the inside of my stomach. But with the nauseating feeling had come that unimaginable heat. When I look at Enzo’s face, I can tell that he desires it too, even as it unsettles him. He tightens his jaw and turns away from me. When he looks back at me again, his face has settled into something cold, distant, and calculating. The Reaper’s face.
Is it him? I try to force down a shudder of frustration. I’d thought that the darkness pooling in his eyes was something that happened only in the arena, while he was being revived. But here it is again, turning him into something inhuman in the moment that it invades his eyes, in the moment when we touch. There is something very wrong.
The tether between us pulses, disturbed, and I tremble, remembering the way his power had nearly overwhelmed mine, pushing me down and down until I would have been just a tight ball of energy, trapped inside myself. What had truly happened? According to Gemma, whoever Enzo is tied to should be able to control him. But I had not felt in control in that moment. I’d felt threatened, felt him trying to overpower me.
That should not be right. But Enzo is an Elite, reborn—he is something that has never existed before. Perhaps Maeve did not predict the extent of Enzo’s powers as well as she should. I shiver, trying to understand what this means.
You are his link to the living world. You can control him. Try it.
I reach out through the link now, searching for him. My threads seek out his heart as if they have a mind of their own.
Enzo shudders and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, blackness pools into the whites of his eyes. I try to breathe—but I realize that when I hold his heart in my hands like this, I cannot. It’s as if the action of controlling an Elite requires every last bit of my energy. An irrational boldness takes hold of me.
“Paint a wall of fire behind me, Enzo,” I whisper, taking a step toward him. My gaze stays locked on the blackness in his eyes.
Enzo doesn’t say a word. He lifts one hand, then brings it back down in an arc. Heat explodes behind me. I break my stare for an instant to look—and there, exactly as I’d commanded, burns a wall of flames roaring from floor to ceiling, so hot that it threatens to scald my skin. I turn back to Enzo with my lips slightly parted. I’m so surprised by his obedience that I lose my concentration.
Enzo shakes his head violently. Suddenly his power lunges back at me again, taking advantage of my moment of distraction. I stumble once as the force of his energy overwhelms me. An illusion sparks around us, gray mist and rain, only to vanish again. My mind struggles for control, pushing back against his, trying to contain him. It is like pushing against a wall. I grit my teeth, shut my eye, and hurl my energy through our tether.
Finally, he backs down. Enzo shudders as my power forces his away. The flames behind me vanish in a trice, leaving only Enzo pressing a hand against his forehead, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. My energy snaps off from his heart and comes rushing back to me. The room falls back into silence. I’m breathing hard.
This. This is the power that Maeve, Raffaele, and the Daggers had wanted by bringing Enzo back. None of them care about him—they only want to do with him what they once did with me: to use him to get the throne. But even they must not have anticipated this strange phenomenon, that Enzo can fight back against his bonded partner. I blink rapidly as the realization sets in, and it sends a knife through my heart.
Just as I can control him … if I am not careful, he will be able to control me.
“What happened?” Enzo whispers, looking up at me from where he crouches. I realize that he does not remember what he did—when the darkness takes over, he loses himself. My shock at what happened sinks into despair. How can we rule side by side like this, always fighting each other for dominance? How can we return to where we once were?
You will have to crush him, the whispers answer me. Either he will be your slave, or you will be his.
The door bursts open. Both of us jerk our heads to see Magiano standing there, mouth already open to tell us something. He pauses when he sees our faces. His slitted eyes go to Enzo first. He hesitates, then looks back at me. His gaze lingers as I turn a bright red. Hastily I try to weave an illusion to cover up my flush, but it’s too late—suspicion appears on Magiano’s face, along with something else. Fear.
I will tell him later how I was able to call on Enzo’s powers.
Enzo straightens and pulls out one of his daggers. Magiano’s eyes dart back to him. The two glare at each other.
“Who are you?” Enzo says in a low voice.
Magiano blinks, then holds up his lute. “I’m the entertainment,” he replies.
“He is an Elite,” I say, when I see Enzo’s threatening stare. “Magiano, the thief. He’s joined us.”
“Magiano.” At that, Enzo lowers his dagger slightly. He gives him a curious look. “We’d all started to think that you were a myth.”
Magiano gives him a half smile. “I guess I must be real, Your Highness.”
“Why is he here?” Enzo turns back to me. “What are you planning?”