Sergio sighs at this point. He takes a swig of water from his canteen and regards me with gray eyes. “I don’t know what Raffaele told you. I don’t even know myself all the details of what was said. All I know is that, one evening, Enzo took me aside to train, and cut me with a poison-tipped blade. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the belly of a ship heading south, out of Kenettra. He left a note tucked into my shirt. It was sparse, to say the least.”

In the silence that follows, Magiano sits back and admires his piles of coins before gathering them all up again. “So … what you’re saying is that you wouldn’t be too happy with the idea of the Daggers ruling Kenettra.”

I stare at a spot over Magiano’s head. I’m thinking about Enzo, the way he used to be. The hard look in his eyes as he trained me, and then the vulnerability I saw in him whenever we were alone. I don’t need to push Sergio to know that Raffaele had asked Enzo to kill him, just as he did to me. Enzo had spared us both. He had been such a strong leader, such a natural crown prince. He would have been an admirable king.

But if he does come back, he will be tethered to Raffaele. And based on the little that Gemma said, Raffaele will control him. They will let Beldain use him as a puppet king for Maeve, a shadow of what he would have been. The thought sends a shudder through my chest, awakening the whispers again. No, I will not let it happen.

Magiano gives me a sidelong look. “You’re thinking about him again,” he says. Something flashes in his eyes, narrowing the slits of his pupils. “You think of him a lot, and not just for your political ploys.”

My gaze darts away from the woods and to him.

“The prince, I mean,” Magiano says, when I don’t reply. He pulls the lute off his back and plucks a few sharp notes. “Enzo—”

“He’s not anything of the sort,” I interrupt. The darkness in me flares. Violetta touches my hand, trying to subdue me. I squeeze it back instinctively.

Magiano stops playing his lute to hold his hands up in defense. “Just interested is all, my love,” he says. “There’s still much I don’t know about your past.”

“I’ve known you for the grand total of a week,” I snap back. “You know nothing about me.”

Magiano looks like he’s ready to say something back, but he thinks better of it. Whatever barbed words he meant for me, he now swallows. He smiles a little and goes back to his lute. There’s a strange twist hiding at the corner of his lips, a hint of something unhappy. I stare at him for a while, trying to puzzle it out, but it quickly disappears.

Violetta puts a hand on my shoulder. “Careful,” she murmurs, frowning as she looks me over.

“He’s not,” I say again, softer this time. Violetta shrugs away my response, but as she does, I can tell that she has noticed something I haven’t. She doesn’t say anything, though.

Sergio speaks up again, and this time, his voice holds a grave note. “If they succeed in bringing Enzo back,” he says, “he will not be the same. That’s what the Daggers said in their conversation, isn’t it? It’s what apparently happened to Maeve’s brother. Who knows what kind of monster he may be, with what kind of power?”

A monster, a monster, the whispers in my head chime in, parroting him.

And suddenly, I know what to do.

“They will succeed in bringing him back,” I say. “And perhaps he will come back forever changed, a … monster, with fearsome powers.” I pause here, then look at each of them in turn. “But in order to live, Enzo must be bound to Raffaele.”

Violetta’s eyes open wider as she understands my plan. She starts to smile. “How will Maeve tell the difference between the real Raffaele and a false one?”

Magiano lets out a bark of laughter, while Sergio smiles wide enough to show a glimpse of teeth. “Brilliant!” Magiano exclaims, clapping his hands together once. He leans toward me. “If we can meet them in the arena at the same time they arrive, you can disguise yourself as Raffaele.”

Sergio shakes his head in admiration. “Maeve will tether Enzo to you. And we will have a reborn prince on our side. It is a good plan, Adelina. A very good one.”

I smile at their enthusiasm. But deep down, something still tugs at my conscience. Memories flicker through my thoughts. I am the White Wolf, not a Dagger, and they are no longer my friends. But then I saw Gemma, and the old pull returned. I hadn’t felt it since I left them. No matter how they betrayed me, I still remember Gemma offering me her necklace in friendship. No matter how often my father abused me, I still remember the day he showed me the ships at the harbor. No matter how Violetta abandoned me in childhood, I still protect her. I don’t know why.

You’re so stupid, Adelina, the whispers say with disdain, and I want to agree.

“You’re still loyal to the Daggers,” Magiano murmurs as he studies me, his joy subdued. “You miss the way things used to be. You’re hesitant to break them apart like this.”

My jaw tightens as I stare back at him. I hesitate. There’s no question that I want revenge against the Inquisition. The burning whispers return, their hisses sharp and disapproving. You want the crown, they remind me. It will be your ultimate revenge. It is why your new Elites follow you, and you cannot let them down. So why do you keep protecting the Daggers, Adelina? Do you really think they will accept you again, that they will let you have your throne? Can you not see that they are even willing to use and abuse their own former leader?