The Rose Society Read Online Free PDF Page A

before, as it had been a present from a Kenettran noblewoman, the Duchess of Campagnia, several years ago. She’d become so infatuated with Raffaele, in fact, that she threw much of her fortune behind supporting the Daggers. The more powerful his clients, the more they tried to buy his love.
    He wonders whether the duchess is well. After theDaggers fled Kenettra, they sent doves out to contact their patrons. The duchess was one of the patrons who had never responded.
    Raffaele slides on the long robe, covering his body from head to toe. The fabric is heavy and luxurious, pooling at his feet, and shimmers in the light. He runs his fingers through the weight of his long black hair, then pulls it up into an elegant knot on the top of his head. In the cold morning sun, tiny traces of sapphire glimmer in his hair. His hands trace the cool surface of his sleeves.
    He thinks back to the night when Enzo visited his chambers, when he had first warned the prince about Adelina. His fingers pause for a moment, suspended in grief.
    No use dwelling on the past. Raffaele casts a glance back at the fireplace, then exits the chamber on silent feet. His robes pull behind him in a sheet of heavy velvet.
    The corridors smell stale—centuries of old, damp stone and the ash of ancient torches. Gradually, they lighten until they open up to the summer castle’s gardens. The flowers are dusted with a thin layer of snow that would melt by the time afternoon came. From here, Raffaele can see the castle’s lower grounds and, beyond that, the rocky shores of Beldain. A cool gust numbs his cheeks and whips strands of hair across his face.
    His gaze shifts to the main courtyard within the castle’s front gates.
    Normally, the space would be quiet at this hour. But today, malfettos fleeing Estenzia litter the grounds, huddled around small fires and under old blankets. Another shipload of malfettos must have just arrived in the night. Raffaele watches the clusters of people move and shift, then turns back inside the castle to head down.
    Several malfettos recognize Raffaele as he makes his way out into the main courtyard. Their faces light up. “It’s the Daggers’ leader!” one exclaims.
    Other malfettos rush forward, all eager to touch Raffaele’s hands and arms, hoping for a moment of his ability to soothe. It is a daily ritual. Raffaele stands still in the midst of them. So many people, begging for comfort.
    His eyes settle on a bald boy quite a bit taller than himself, his hair taken long ago by the fever. Raffaele had seen him waiting yesterday too. He gestures at the boy to step forward. His eyes widen in surprise, and then he rushes to Raffaele’s side.
    “Good morning,” he says.
    Raffaele looks at him carefully. “Good morning,” he replies.
    The boy lowers his voice. He seems nervous now that he has managed to get Raffaele’s attention before anyone else. “Can you come see my sister?” he asks.
    “Yes,” Raffaele replies without hesitation.
    The bald boy brightens at his answer. Like everyone else, he seems unable to tear his eyes away from Raffaele’s face. He touches the young consort’s arm. “This way,” he says.
    Raffaele follows him through the groups of malfettos . Arough, dark mark sprawled all across a forearm. A scarred ear and dark hair peppered with silver. Mismatched eye colors. Raffaele silently memorizes the markings he sees. Whispers erupt wherever he glides past.
    They reach his sister. She is huddled in a corner of the courtyard, hiding her face behind a shawl. When she sees Raffaele approach, she makes herself even smaller and lowers her eyes.
    The boy leans down to Raffaele as they reach her. “An Inquisitor seized her on the night they broke shop windows in Estenzia,” he murmurs. He bends closer and whispers something in Raffaele’s ear. As Raffaele listens, he studies the girl, noticing a scratch here, a bruise there, black and blue marring the skin of her legs.
    When the boy finishes talking,