The Midnight Star (The Young Elites #3)(53)

Raffaele claims that Maeve will meet us here, but there is still no sign of the Beldish queen and her men. As we unload some of our supplies onto a waiting horse, I gradually weave differences into my appearance—lightening my skin, dotting the bridge of my nose with freckles, curling my hair, hiding my scars. Snapping at Raffaele doesn’t mean I don’t take his words to heart. If the Saccorists are here, then they will find a way to seek us out in town. When I finish with myself, I work on altering the appearances of Magiano, Raffaele, and Violetta.

“Leave the others,” Magiano says quietly to me as we prepare to leave the piers behind. He subtly gestures to where our Inquisitors and Tamouran soldiers wait. “We’ll go on from here to find Queen Maeve.”

He’s right, of course—having a patrol of soldiers behind us attracts far too much attention, even at a bustling port city. I nod my agreement. “We go alone,” I reply.

But as we move forward with the Daggers, I find myself fearing the open air at my back. The whispers only feed my paranoia, sending black silhouettes flickering in and out of the crowd. You are hunted here, little wolf. What does it feel like to be prey? Only the knowledge that Teren walks next to me reminds me that he is, at least, ready to defend me. Magiano is close too.

I grit my teeth and follow Raffaele. Let them come. I have slit throats before, and I can do it again.

Violetta is too weak to walk for long, so the first stop we make is to purchase a horse for her. She rests against its back with her eyes closed. I lighten her hair until the illusion of it looks red. She is sickly enough now that her skin is almost as pale as a Skylander’s. She doesn’t stir as we make our way deeper into the city.

Magiano sniffs the air as we pass tall buildings of limestone, their windows tiny and shrouded with curtains. “Do you smell that?” he says.

I do. It smells like cooking eggs, as well as something tangy and sour, like a shredded plant I’d once eaten at the ports in Dalia, Kenettra. My stomach rumbles. Suddenly I’m tired of the weeks of dried meat and stale bread on board the ship. “It smells like breakfast,” I reply, turning in the direction of the scents. “Something we could use a bit more of.”

Magiano smiles at me. As he does, his face suddenly changes into a different one—it is my father’s, dark and grinning, the harsh lines of his wrinkles deep and prominent. I gasp, then turn away and shut my eye. Not now, I scold myself as my energy flares in fear. I cannot lose control of my illusions in the middle of this crowded street.

“Are you all right?” Magiano whispers. When I gather the courage to look at him again, he has returned to being himself.

My heart beats weakly within my chest. I straighten my shoulders and try to forget the images. “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m just impatient to find the Beldish.”

Nearby, Violetta frowns in concern, but she doesn’t say anything. Raffaele slows to fall into step beside me. He nods in the direction where the city eventually ends. “Your illusions,” he says. “Disguising us. It is exhausting you, isn’t it?”

The energy in my chest strains as we continue to move through the city. I wish there were not so many people here; the constant shifts of their movement and colors and shapes make it difficult for me to keep the illusion over myself and the others. “I’ll be fine,” I mutter at Raffaele.

“We are close enough to the origin that I can feel its slight pull. Remember, everything is connected to everything else.” He shakes his head and frowns. “Its energy will disturb all of ours. Be careful.”

Only now do I see that there is a certain strain in Raffaele’s face too, as if he were drained from more than just our journey. I look around, wondering who else is feeling the effects. Magiano seems to be doing well enough, aside from his sour mood, but Violetta’s face looks exhausted, and Lucent is uncharacteristically silent.

As we go, I continue to blink away bits and pieces of illusions. The sky seems to darken, and a weight hangs over the city. Masked faces appear and vanish from narrow alleys that we pass, the glint of silver reminding me of how the Daggers once looked. The whispers stir, appearing in the corners of the streets and the shadows of overhangings.

Why don’t you abandon this journey, Adelina? they say. Return to Kenettra. Go back and rule your empire.

I look away and try to keep my concentration ahead of me. It is a good idea. I shake the thought from my mind. We are all tired, and the sooner we can have a good night’s rest, the stronger we will feel in the morning. Perhaps Maeve will meet us by then.

But what if she doesn’t meet us at all? What if she sends troops to attack us instead? What if she has no interest in joining us on this journey? Raffaele must believe her on good faith, that she will come because she loves Lucent, but that is all. I look to my side, where Lucent walks in silence. What if this is Maeve’s way of seeking revenge for what I did to her navy, to withdraw herself, making our journey worthless?

This is what I would do, if I were her. So why doesn’t she choose it too?

We turn off the main road and down a narrow path with steps, heading around the side of a hill toward the tavern. As we pass by a small intersecting alley, the masked faces appear and vanish. Beside me, Magiano frowns, stiffens, and cranes his neck down the alley for another look.

“Did you see something?” I ask.

Magiano nods, his eyes still lingering on the alley we passed. “A flash of silver,” he says after a moment. “Like a mask.” He meets my stare. My stomach twists.