The fires closest to us flicker—as if a great wind had just whipped past—and then they vanish into curls of black smoke. I glance to my side, where Enzo gallops. He gives me a single nod, his eyes the only part of his face that are exposed, and then urges his horse onward. He raises another hand. Other fires along the path flicker out. Each time he uses his energy, the tether between us vibrates, sending shudders through my chest. Tendrils of his power seep into me, the threads scalding my insides. I try to keep it under control.
Screams continue from inside the longhouses. The whispers in me jump, excited by their overwhelming fear. I grit my teeth as we reach the first of the houses. I jump down from my saddle and rush to the closest door. Even though fire has eaten away at it, and the wood is charred black, I can’t seem to pull the wood apart. I yank at the metal lock. The sudden rush of helplessness angers me. I am the White Wolf, capable of creating the most powerful illusions in the world—but they are just that. Illusions. I cannot even break a lock with my own hands.
Enzo appears beside me. His gloved hand closes on my frantic ones. “Allow me.” He wraps his fist around the lock. The metal turns bright red, then white, and the wood around it chars. It bursts apart in a shower of splinters. The lock comes free.
We pull the door open, and a plume of smoke rushes out.
I don’t wait to see how many survivors are inside. Instead, as Violetta and Sergio call for people to get out of the house, I move on to the next door. One by one, we break open each locked house.
A few Inquisitors run straight into us right as we turn a corner. They startle at the sight of us—and Enzo is on them before they can even react. He whips out a blade and stabs the first, then puts his hands around the collar of the second. The soldier’s eyes bulge as they burn from within. He falls without a sound, his mouth still open, smoke pouring out. Enzo steps over him in one stride, then lunges at the third. Flames alight beneath his feet with each step that he takes. He throws him roughly to the ground before the Inquisitor can even properly draw a weapon, then pins him down. I blink at the sight. Enzo had attacked all three in a blur of motion. I have not even seen the full extent of his new power, but I can feel it burning under his skin and through our tether.
The Inquisitor on the ground whimpers beneath Enzo’s grip. “Teren Santoro,” Enzo says, tightening his hand around the man’s neck. “Where is he?”
The Inquisitor waves one arm frantically against the ground, pointing in the direction of his head. My stare travels down the burning camps, then settles on one of the temples lining Estenzia’s outer walls.
In the short time that I knew Teren, I learned several things about him. He is in love with the queen because she is pure of blood and wants the malfettos destroyed as well. But one thing he honors more than the queen: his duty to the gods. If Teren has lost her love, then he may have turned to the gods for comfort.
Farther down the path behind us, Sergio throws knives into the throats of two other Inquisitors who happen upon us. They fall from their steeds, gurgling. Sergio swings down from his horse and joins us, while Violetta rides up behind him. He notices my line of sight. He nods, then mounts his horse again and taps the creature’s hindquarters with his heels. Enzo has already returned to his own steed. He holds a hand down to me, and I take it, swinging up behind him.
Behind us, a few malfettos take up a cry.
The Young Elites!
They’re here!
We dismount when we reach the temple. A horse is already outside, nervously stamping at the ground. Enormous statues stand on either side of the entrance—Laetes, the angel of Joy, and Compasia, the angel of Empathy. I exchange a look with Violetta. “I will go in first,” I whisper to Enzo. “If Teren is here, then I need him to see me alone.”
“Go ahead,” Violetta tells me. She tightens her riding gloves. “I’ll be waiting in the shadows. I won’t let him use his strength against you.”
Enzo turns his horse around and looks toward the horizon, where other malfetto camps have started to burn. Sergio rides up beside him. “My other men are ready to move, should we give the signal,” he says to Enzo.
“No need,” Enzo replies, his eyes still fixed on the rising smoke. “I’ve seen you fight—I trained you myself.” It is the first time he has acknowledged their past. He hoists a blade in one hand, and it gleams in the light. “This will be quick, and quiet.”
Sergio nods in agreement.
Enzo glances at him before he moves. “The Rainmaker,” he says.
Sergio narrows his eyes. “I’ve not forgotten, you know,” he replies. He kicks his horse in its hindquarters. “But we have more important things to settle first.”
Enzo’s eyes flick back to me. He does not ask if I will be okay. His silent approval makes me stand taller. Then he turns away and rides with Sergio toward the smoke in the distance. I turn to Violetta, and together, we head up the steps.
The sun has almost completely set. There are no Inquisitors near the temple, as there is nothing to guard, really, no valuables or jewels—only daily flowers laid at the marble feet of the gods. For once, I have no illusion of invisibility over myself. I walk in plain sight.
The temple is nearly empty. Shafts of evening light penetrate the space from the high windows, painting the air with blue and purple stripes. At the very front of the temple, with his back turned to me, is Teren, crouched low before a statue of Sapientus, the god of Wisdom. I stop at the door, then carefully remove my boots. My bare feet make no sound against the floor.