The Midnight Star (The Young Elites #3)(50)

I take a deep breath. “This will all be over soon,” I say. “And your duty to the gods will be complete.”

Teren puts his plate down. We exchange a long stare.

Finally, he rises from his seat and faces one of the Inquisitors. The man swallows hard as Teren seizes the sheath of his sword and pulls it off the belt. Teren glances at Magiano, then at me. “I’ll need a weapon,” he mutters, hoisting the sword in the air before he steps out of the cabin.

I do not realize how tense his unchained presence made me until he is out of the room; I relax my shoulders in his absence.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Magiano says, walking over and offering his hand for support as I rise. “One heroic act doesn’t make a man trustworthy. What if he decides to turn his blade on you?”

I follow Magiano out of the main cabin and turn down the corridor to our quarters. “You can’t watch me all the time,” I say wearily. “Teren will be better than leaving me at the mercy of any other rebels who might be on board.”

Magiano tightens his lips, but doesn’t argue. His eyes search my face, pausing for a heartbeat on my scars. His braids are tied up in a thick mess, ruffled from exhaustion, and light from the corridor’s lanterns highlights the gold glint in his eyes. “You aren’t well tonight,” he says softly.

Before I can respond, the whispers hiss again, fighting against the herbal tea, and I rub my temples in an attempt to soothe my headache.

Magiano takes my hand and leads me inside my quarters. “Come,” he says. I follow him to the bed, where I gingerly sit down, while he goes to the writing desk, lights a candle, and prepares me another mug of tea. Outside my porthole, a strange wailing echoes across the ocean. I sit still in bed for a while and listen to it. It is a low, lingering sound, like a ghost’s whisper on the wind, and as I continue to listen, I feel it coming from right beneath the waves. My energy trembles at the call, even as something about it sounds familiar, even beckoning, to my ears. This is a sound from the Underworld.

The shadows in the corners of my quarters seem to bend and shift, even as Magiano stands barely a few feet away. I must be hallucinating again, my illusions twisting out of my control. The shadows change into shapes with claws and teeth, tiny empty sockets for eyes, and as I look on, the shapes sharpen until their faces take on the characteristics of people long gone. They struggle to crawl out of the shadows and into the moonlight that paints the floors. I sink deeper into bed, try to ignore the sound outside, and pull my blankets up to my chin. I have to find a way to regain control over the threads of my energy. I practice taking deep breaths—in and out.

The wail outside fades, then strengthens, then fades again. After a while, I can barely hear it anymore. The shadows against the walls lose their threatening shapes, settling into flat darkness.

“Adelina.” Magiano’s whisper. I hadn’t even noticed him approach and sit on the corner of my bed. He holds a mug out to me.

I take it in relief. “Did you hear the wailing?” I ask.

He leans over and carefully peers out of the porthole, his hand supporting his marked side. If the moons were new tonight, the ocean would be a black mass, reflecting nothing but a sky full of stars. But tonight the storm clouds have cleared and the water is brightly lit, and as we look on, I can see the rolls of water pushed up by a pod of baliras swimming by.

“I’ve never heard them wail like that before,” I say as they pass.

“I heard them several nights ago,” Magiano replies. “Raffaele told me he heard it, too, when he came on board our ship. It is the sound of a dying balira, poisoned by this water.”

His words tug at my heart. I look out the porthole again to catch a sight of the last ones swimming by, until nothing but triangles of ripples drift in their wake. Let them die, the whispers say. When it is all done, you can turn your back on them. On everyone. Escape with your powers. You can’t give them up.

Yes, I could do this. I’ll wait until we’ve reached the border of Amadera and Beldain, and begin the trek northward. Then Magiano and I can return to Kenettra. I shake my head, frowning, and sip more of the herbal drink. Would Violetta return with me? Could I leave without her? Will I abandon the others? I stay very still, focusing my thoughts on following through with this plan. I imagine sailing back to my country and returning to my throne. I force myself to be happy about it.

I picture Raffaele and Lucent, who saved my life, and then Teren, who has turned against every belief he holds in order to do what he thinks is right.

Magiano looks at me. His side is pressed against mine, his skin warm and full of life.

“I’m afraid,” I finally whisper to him. “Every day, I wake up wondering whether or not this will be the last day I get to live in reality.” I look at him. “Last night, my nightmare returned. It went on for longer than it ever has. Even now, when you were standing so close by, I could see the shadows in the corner reaching their claws toward me. Even at this very moment, my illusions are growing stronger, evolving completely out of my reach.” I pause as the whispers scold me for speaking against them.

This boy will betray you, just like all the others. He is here for the pouch of gold you give him. He’ll disappear the instant you reach land, gone to search for better companions.

“Good thing we’re going to find a way to fix this, then,” Magiano replies, his eyes turned down at me. His words sound like they should be teasing, but his voice is grave, his face serious. “It won’t be like this forever.”