The Midnight Star (The Young Elites #3)

You’re wasting your time here, say the whispers.

A loud thud shakes the floorboards. I startle and look back at the door. It sounded like it came not from above deck, but from our corridor. I wait to hear the passing of Inquisition boots, of a group of voices—but instead, the ship falls back into silence again.

I frown. For a moment, I want to ignore it, but then I rise and leave Violetta’s side. I step back into the hall of swinging lanterns.

No one else is in the corridor.

I clutch my head and steady myself against the wall. Everything around me seems to be moving, and despite my attempts to concentrate, the walls blur into the floor and the floor blurs into the air, the lantern lights smearing together into faces and shapes. The whispers turn into screams. I press a hand against one ear, as if that might shut them out, but it only makes it worse, blocking out the sound of the crashing ocean and emphasizing my illusions gone mad.

Think of Magiano. I remember his hand on my wrist in that dark hallway at the palace, the light reflected against his skin in the bathhouse. Then I force my breathing to steady. One, two, three. The hooked claws in my mind still, if only for a moment, and the floor and walls sharpen again. The sound of waves and shouts of men return from above deck.

Then, another thud.

It comes from the deck below. Where we are keeping Teren.

A sense of dread creeps into my stomach. Something has happened—I can feel it. I hesitate for an instant, wondering if my illusions will spiral out of control again. The world seems steady enough, though, and the whispers have lowered into a rumble. I make my way toward the lower-deck ladder, then start heading down. The ship pitches violently, making me trip on the last rung. A muffled thunderclap sounds outside. The storm is quickly worsening.

The end of the corridor is pitch-black, and as the ship rolls, an extinguished lantern tumbles along the planks, its glass broken. I reach out tentatively with my power. There’s fear here, the fear that comes with pain. As I walk closer, I realize that there are two shapes lying on the floor, one of them motionless, the other moaning softly. The guards stationed to watch Teren.

Teren’s door is swung wide open.

My heart leaps into my throat in terror. He is loose, I think, right as a deafening clap of thunder shakes the ship. I whirl around and hurry toward the ladder. The back of my neck tingles, panic rising as I wonder whether Teren is hiding in the shadows. But I know he’s no longer down here.

I climb up the ladder in a rush and run along the corridor of our other quarters. “Violetta?” I shout as I go. “Magiano! Teren is gone!”

No one answers. As the ship careens, making the lanterns along the walls swing wildly, I rush to the ladder leading to the deck and start climbing. Where would Teren go, in a storm like this? We can’t lose him. We need him on this journey. We—

I hear the whoosh of a blade through the air before I even see it. Something—fate, my instincts—saves me, and I duck at the last instant. A dagger buries deep into the wood of the ladder. I look back to see one of my Inquisitors charging at me, teeth bared. A rebel.

I throw my arms up and fling an illusion of invisibility over myself. I vanish from sight and dart out of his way. The Inquisitor stabs down at empty air, then blinks in confusion and whirls around. He is afraid now too, and his terror feeds my strength. “Show yourself, demon!” he shouts.

My heart pounds against my ribs. So—another rebel—just like the one who had attacked me during our battle. I grit my teeth and throw an illusion of pain at him. But my concentration flickers, and I shudder into existence for a fraction of an instant. It is enough for the Inquisitor to see me. He swings another dagger at me again, even as he howls in pain at my illusion.

I scramble past him and start climbing up the ladder. Had he been one of the guards I’d placed outside Teren’s door? Had he released him, thinking Teren would kill me? Had he been loyal to Teren during his Lead Inquisitor days?

The man swings at me again. I react blindly, grabbing the dagger embedded in the wood, and then I whirl around and lash out at him. My blade strikes flesh. The man’s eyes bulge, and his mouth drops open. He stares at my scarred face for an instant, then collapses at my feet.

Another assassination attempt.

I clutch the dagger in one hand and struggle to the top deck. An icy wind blasts me with rain. I freeze and look up at the sky to see clouds hovering so low that they seem like they might touch the crow’s nest, clouds so black and ominous that it feels like I am peering up into the gaping mouth of Death herself.

“Adelina!” a drenched Magiano shouts from near the bow of the ship, where he hangs on desperately to the rigging of the sails. He’s pointing in the direction where Raffaele’s ship must be. Frantic, I glance around the deck. It all looks like a blur—a mass of gray crew fighting the tempest, water everywhere. I whirl around, as if my would-be assassin is behind me.

“Teren!” I shout back at Magiano. “He’s gone! He’s—”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I spot him. Under the glow of a streak of lightning, I see Teren making his way toward Magiano. Teren’s wrists are still bound in chains, and as he moves, they clatter noisily. A gasp escapes me. No. I shout again and prepare to strike with my energy, but a huge wave smacks the side of the ship and I stumble at the impact. A rope snaps loose from somewhere and hits Magiano viciously in his side—on his never-healing marking.

Magiano doubles over in agony and loses his footing. His hands grab for the rigging. I leap onto the deck right as Teren reaches it. Teren is going to kill him. The thought speeds through me like lightning—and my powers well up, roaring to the surface as I face Teren.

But Teren seizes the rope—and swings it toward Magiano with all his strength. Despite his pain, Magiano manages to catch it. He swings back toward the mast and hits the spar with a soft thud—narrowly avoiding going overboard. He crumples on the deck, clutching his side.

I wipe water from my vision. Did Teren just save Magiano’s life?

At the same time, another wave crashes against the deck, flooding it. It washes one of my Inquisitors into the sea. I stumble and fall on my knees. Before me, Teren loses his footing and tumbles. I rush forward. Somewhere in the gale, Magiano calls out to me. “Adelina—don’t!” he yells.

The water sweeps Teren overboard. We need him is all I can think. We need Teren if we want to live. I reach the railing and look down to see Teren clinging to the side of the ship. His chains clack in the wind. He glances up and catches sight of me.

Let him drown, the whispers say. Let the Underworld take him. Let him sink. He deserves it.

I hesitate, trembling from the effort of listening to the voices. He does deserve it. For a moment, the thought crowds my mind and the whispers crow as if they’ve won. Teren’s face shifts and moves, rippling with an illusion out of my control, shifting from a human face to that of an unrecognizable demon, the monster underneath his skin.

Then I remember why we are here. I reach down, close my hand tightly around his wrist, and pull as hard as I can. Teren climbs slowly, making his way up one step at a time. His eyes reflect the lightning and the torrential rain. When he is back on board, I think, we will need to secure his quarters more strictly.

“Look out!” someone shouts. I glance up just in time to see Magiano leap in my direction. But it’s too late—an instant later, a wave hits the side of the ship like a battering ram and I’m flung free of the railing. All I see is a rush of black sky and ocean. Magiano is still standing along the deck, his arm outstretched toward me. Then he vanishes from sight as rain and ocean spray streak past. I look down to see the dark ocean rushing up at me.

The Underworld has come to claim you, the whispers scream.

Then I hit the water. And the ocean consumes me.