The Rose Society

How long ago it was, when I used to crouch along the stair railings in my old home and fantasize about this, of wearing such a crown and looking down from my own throne. I lift my head high and stare out at the chamber. It is empty.

This is what I have fought so hard for, what I sacrificed and bled so much for. This is everything I ever wanted—revenge against my enemies for what they’ve done to me. And I’ve achieved it. My revenge is complete.

I force a smile onto my face. In the silence, I sit alone on my throne and wait eagerly for all the satisfaction and triumph to hit me. I wait, and wait, and wait.

But it doesn’t come.

Magiano just shrugs. He studies me for a brief moment. What does he see? Then he utters a small laugh. “Just point me in the direction of the royal treasury, Your Majesty,” he says, waving a hand in the air. He turns away as he speaks, but not before I catch a hint of sadness on his face. “Then you’ll always know where to find me.”

So I don’t reach out for Magiano’s hand.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” I say instead. “And without Sergio’s.”

Somewhere out there, Enzo calls through our tether, and I shiver at his pull. I want to reach out for Magiano’s hand too, as if he could pull me back

But those thoughts are quickly replaced by the memory of Enzo’s final words to me during the battle. Of his black eyes. I would have killed you myself, if I’d had the chance. He’s right, of course. If I were him, I would have said nothing different. There is no question that we are enemies now. Shields go up over my heart, and my alignment to passion flickers lower, dying. It is the only way to protect myself.

Magiano smiles and, for a moment, the old flame returns to his eyes. He takes a step closer to me. It seems as if he wants to reach out for my hand, but then he decides not to, and lets his arm fall back to his side. It sends a stab of disappointment through me. “A stunning victory,” he murmurs.

“No more need for you to be a thief,” I say.

“Your Majesty,” Magiano says as we enter the room. When I turn to him, he gives me a quick bow. His eyes are still distant. “I’ll leave you to prepare, then. No need for a thief on the royal balcony.”

Enzo inherited a throne. Giulietta relied on her royal blood. Queen Maeve rules Beldain because she was born to it.

But true rulers are not born. We are made.

Fear motivates, more than love or ambition or joy. Fear is more powerful than anything else in the world. I have spent so long yearning for things—for love, for acceptance—that I do not really need. I need nothing except the submission that comes with fear. I do not know why it took me so long to learn this.