Free The Young Elites by Marie Lu Page B

was the one who nurtured it. I shiver, remembering the horrible illusions that have answered my call. In the corner of the room, my father’s ghost lurks, partially hidden behind the ivy wall.
He’s not really there, he’s an illusion, he’s dead.
But there’s no mistaking it—I can see his silhouette waiting for me, his presence cold and haunting.
    I look away from him, lest Raffaele think that I’m losing my mind. “What . . . ,” I begin, then clear my throat. “What does it mean?”
    Raffaele just gives me a sympathetic nod. He seems reluctant to discuss it any further, and I find myself eager to move on as well.
    “We’ll see how Enzo feels about this, and what this means for your training,” he goes on in a more hesitant tone. He frowns. “It may take some time before you’ll be considered a member of the Dagger Society.”
    “Wait,” I say. “I don’t understand. Am I not already one of you?”
    Raffaele crosses his arms and looks at me. “No, not yet. The Dagger Society is made up of Young Elites who have proven themselves capable of calling upon their powers whenever needed. They can
control
their talents with a level of precision that you cannot yet grasp. Do you remember how Enzo saved you, the way he controlled fire? You need to be your ability’s master. You will arrive there, I’m sure, but you’re not there yet.”
    The way Raffaele says all this stirs a warning in me. “If I’m not a Dagger yet, then what am I? What happens next?”
    “You’re an apprentice. We need to see if we can train you to qualify.”
    “And what happens if I don’t qualify?”
    Raffaele’s eyes, so warm and sweet earlier, now seem dark and frightening. “A couple of years ago,” he says gently, “I recruited a boy into our society who could call the rain. He seemed promising at the time—we had high hopes for him. A year passed. He could not learn to master his abilities. Did you hear about the drought that hit northern Kenettra back then?”
    I nod. My father had cursed the rise in wine prices, and rumor had it that Estenzia was forced to cull a hundred prized horses because they couldn’t afford to feed them. People starved. The king sent out the Inquisition and killed hundreds during the riots.
    Raffaele sighs. “The boy caused that drought by accident, and he could not stop it. He fell into panic and frustration. People blamed
malfettos,
of course. The temples burned
malfettos
at the stake in hopes that sacrificing us would lift the drought. The boy started acting strange and erratic, causing a public scene by trying to conjure rain right in the middle of a market square, sneaking off to the harbor at night to try to pull at the waves, and so forth. Enzo was
not
pleased. Do you see? Someone who cannot learn to control his energy is a danger to us all. We do not operate for free. Keeping you safe here, feeding and clothing and sheltering you, training you . . . this all costs coin and time, but most of all, it costs our name and reputation to those loyal to us. You are an investment and a risk. In other words, you need to
prove
that you’re worth it.” Raffaele pauses to take my hand. “I don’t like to frighten you. But I will not hide from you how seriously we take our mission. This is no game. We cannot afford a weak link in a country that wants us dead.” His grip tightens. “And I will do everything in my power to make sure you are a strong link.”
    He is trying to comfort me, even in his honesty. But there’s something he’s not saying. In the brief, silent spaces between his words, I hear everything else I need to know. They’ll be watching me. I need to prove that I can conjure my powers again, and that I can wield them with precision. If for some reason I can’t control my abilities, they won’t just cast me out of the Dagger Society. I’ve seen their faces, where they stay, and what they do. I know that Kenettra’s crown prince leads them. I know too much.
A weak link