The Midnight Star (The Young Elites #3)(24)

His absence cuts through the rising tide of darkness in my chest, leaving me exhausted—in this moment, all I want is to get away from here and find him. I weave an illusion of invisibility around myself while the crowd tries to resume celebrating. Only Sergio realizes that I’ve gone, although he doesn’t call out to stop me.

I shake my head in disgust as I walk. All this dwelling on Violetta has turned me soft tonight.

I make my way out of the gardens and into a dark hall. There are crowds of new nobility here too, marked people to whom I’d handed aristocratic titles after stripping them from their unmarked masters. I push through them. One of the nobles spills her wine as I shove by. I rush down the hall until I come to a winding staircase guarded by Inquisitors, and then I head up to an empty floor. Finally, peace.

I stop and lean my head against the wall. The whispers whirl in a cloud around me, and their fury adds to the dizziness in my head. I try to steady myself. “Magiano,” I call out, wondering if he might be nearby, but my voice just echoes down the hall.

You shouldn’t have let them go, the whispers say. They always respond when no one else does.

“Why not?” I retort through gritted teeth.

The harmless grow up to become the bringers of wrath. You know this better than anyone, you fool.

“An old couple and a pair of children,” I murmur with a sneer. “They can’t hurt me.” I close my eye, and in the darkness, the whispers lurch forward, flashing their naked grins at me.

Oh? How arrogant you’ve grown, little wolf. My anger flares at their use of my old nickname, and in response, the whispers clap in delight. Yes. That makes you furious, doesn’t it? You are arrogant, my queen. Why, look. The boy has already come back for you.

I open my eye again and glance around. There, standing in the hall right before me, is the boy with his grave eyes. He looks at me without a word.

My anger ignites again, and the ghosts of illusions flicker in the corner of my consciousness. “I thought I told you to get out.”

The boy doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a step closer. Are those tears of blood coming from his eyes? The blood fever. My anger shifts to uncertainty. Then the boy emits a shriek and lunges at me with a knife.

I scream, stumble backward, and throw my arms instinctively across my face. Through my haze of thoughts, I see the boy vanish. He is replaced by a hulking beast. Black boils cover his hunched back, and his long claws click against the floor. He jerks toward me, his fangs stretching all the way around his head. The incarnation of my whispers.

What’s the matter, Your Majesty? Afraid of your own halls?

He charges at me with arms outstretched, mouth extended. He is an illusion, just an illusion. He’s not really there. Raffaele’s note has distracted me, disturbing my energy, so I’ve lost control again. That’s all this is. If only I stand still, he will disappear in a cloud of dust when he reaches me. He cannot hurt me.

But I can’t make myself stop. I am in danger. I need to run. So I do. I run as the monster pursues me, his claws tearing up the floor’s stone. I can feel his hot breath on my back. The hall stretches endlessly before me, like a gaping mouth, and when I blink, arms tear out from each of the corridor’s walls, reaching for me.

Wake up, I scream at myself as I run. Wake up. Wake up!

I stumble. I try to catch myself, but instead I fall to my hands and knees. The monster reaches me and I look up at him in horror.

But he is no longer a beast. I see my father’s face, contorted into a picture of rage. He seizes my wrist and yanks me forward, dragging me along the floor. “Where have you put your sister, mi Adelinetta?” he asks in his eerie, quiet voice even as I try to pull free. “What have you done with her?”

She left me. It wasn’t my fault. She left me behind, of her own free will.

“What did I do to end up with a daughter like you?” My father shakes his head. We round the corner and enter the cavernous space of our old family home’s kitchen. Here, my father seizes a butcher knife from the counter. No, don’t, please. “You open your mouth, and out spill lies. Who did you learn that from, hmm, Adelina? Was it from one of our stable boys? Or were you born this way?”

“I’m sorry.” Tears spill down my cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m not lying. I don’t know where Violetta is—” I know I am not a child trapped in my old home. I am in the Estenzian palace, and I am the queen. I want to return to the festivities. Why can’t I wake up?

My father glances down at me. He yanks my arm straight and slams my hand down on the floor. I’m crying so hard that I nearly choke. He positions the butcher knife over my wrist, then brings it back high over his head. I squeeze my eye shut and wait for the blow.

Please let me wake up now, I beg.

The whispers chuckle at my plea. As you wish, Your Majesty.

“Your Majesty? Adelina.”

The hand clutching my arm suddenly loosens its grip. I look up to see that it belongs to Magiano. The kitchen is gone, and I am lying on the floor of the palace’s hall again. Magiano pulls me to him as I continue to sob—even though his expression is concerned, he seems relieved to finally make eye contact with me. I hug him close and cling tightly. My body trembles against him.

“How do you always manage to find the worst hallway to lie down in?” Magiano says, his teasing only halfhearted. He brings his face down to my ear and murmurs something I can barely understand, over and over, until the whispers in my head fade into the shadows.