The Midnight Star (The Young Elites #3)(19)

Other people pass me by, unaware of my presence. Their faces look like ruined paintings. I try to push past the blurriness, but a dull headache creeps in, and suddenly I feel exhausted. A patrol of my white-cloaked Inquisitors march by, their eyes searching for unmarked people who might be breaking my new laws. Their armor looks like an undulating wave in my vision. I grimace, clutching my head, and decide to return to the palace. The rain has soaked through my own cloak, and a warm bath sounds enticing.

By the time I arrive at the steps leading up to the bathhouse, the drizzle has turned into a steady rain. My bare feet create a faint slapping sound against the marble floor as I go inside. There, I finally drop my invisibility. Usually, two maidens are trailing behind me when I come here, but I just want to sink myself into warm waters and let my mind wander away.

As I approach the bath hall, I hear a pair of voices drifting out from within. My steps slow for a moment. The bathhouse isn’t empty, as I had thought. I should’ve sent a servant ahead of me to clear the halls. I hesitate a moment longer, then decide to continue on. After all, I am queen—I can always order whoever they are to leave.

The pool stretches out in a long rectangle from where I stand to the other side of the hall. A fog of warmth hangs in the air, and I can smell the moisture. At the other end of the pool come the voices I’d heard a moment earlier. As I slip off my damp robes and dip my toes into the warm water, I hear a low rumble of laughter that makes me pause. Suddenly, I recognize who it is—Magiano. He did say he was going to be at the baths.

He has his back turned to me, and it’s difficult to see him clearly through the warm mist in the air. But it’s unmistakably him. His brown back is bare and slick, his muscles gleaming, and his braids are piled high on his head in a knot. He leans casually over the edge of the pool, and standing nearby on the stones is the same maiden I’d seen with him by the palace. She is kneeling down, her hair falling over one shoulder, a shy smile on her face as she hands him a glass of spiced wine.

Ah, the whispers say, stirring. And here we thought he was your plaything.

Again, bitterness rises in my chest—and my illusions weave an image before me once more. The maiden, no longer dressed, bathing with Magiano, water glistening on her skin, him reaching for her, running his hands along the outline of her body. Illusion. I close my eye, take a deep breath, and count in my head, trying to still my thoughts. It takes so much more effort than it once did. I feel a violent urge to get out of the pool, throw my clothes back on, and rush to my chambers, to leave them here to whatever they want to do. But I also feel an overwhelming need to hurt the maiden. My pride pushes back. You are the Kenettran queen. No one should force you to leave. So instead, I lift my chin and wade into the water, letting the warmth envelop my body.

At the sound of my approach, the maiden glances in my direction. Then she freezes as she recognizes me. I can tell that her gaze goes immediately to the scarred side of my face. A surge of fear comes from her, and I have to push down my desire to frighten her even more, to taunt her with my power. Instead, I just smile. She jumps to her feet and drops into a bow.

“Your Majesty,” she calls out.

At that, Magiano shifts slightly in my direction. He must have sensed my energy the instant I entered the hall, I realize—he must have known I was here. But he pretends to be surprised. “Your Majesty,” he says, echoing the maiden. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you enter.”

I flick one hand at the maiden. She needs no second urging. She scurries off toward the closest door, not daring to bid Magiano farewell.

Magiano watches her go, then turns to me. His gaze goes from my face to the water lapping around my bare shoulders.

“Do you wish to bathe alone, Your Majesty?” he asks. He makes a move to get out, and as he does, he rises halfway out of the pool. Water runs down his taut stomach.

I have never seen Magiano undressed before. My cheeks warm. I also notice, for the first time, his marking fully exposed. It’s a dark red patch that runs along the length of his side, where Sunland priests had so long ago tried to cut off his marking, an attempt to fix him. The first time I saw a glimpse of that old scar, it was the night we sat together by the campfire, when Violetta was still with me. I remember Magiano’s lips on mine, the silence surrounding the crackle of the fire.

“Stay,” I reply. “I could use some company.”

Magiano smiles, but there is a certain wariness in his eyes. “Just some company?” he teases. “Or mine?”

I shake my head once, trying to keep the smile off my own face as we both move to the edge of the pool. “Well,” I say. “You’re certainly better company than Teren.”

“And how is our favorite madman doing?”

“He’s . . . not healing like he used to. There are chafes on his wrists that are constantly bleeding.”

At that, Magiano’s carefree attitude shifts. “Are you sure?”

“I saw it myself.”

Magiano is silent, even though I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Raffaele’s prediction for us all.

“And how have you felt lately?” Magiano asks me quietly. “Your illusions?”

The whispers in my head murmur amongst themselves. We aren’t a weakness, Adelina. We are your strength. You shouldn’t resist us so much. I look away and concentrate on the water lapping around us. “I’m fine,” I reply. “We will sail for Tamoura in a few weeks’ time, and as always, I want you at my side.”