The Midnight Star (9 page)

“I see the Windwalker!” Magiano calls out to me. When I lift my head to look, he points at a balira that rushes past, coming close enough for me to see the coppery-blond curls streaming behind its rider. Lucent has someone else with her, and her posture is hunched, as if she is exhausted. But it doesn't stop her from glancing in our direction, and as she does, another blast of wind strikes us.

The impact hurls me off my feet. I collapse as another wave pummels the side of our ship, then stagger upright, blinking water from my vision. Magiano grabs my arm again and the world clears a little. Lucent's stunt has scattered all
my concentration, and now my cloak of invisibility has vanished entirely, leaving my ships fully exposed. I force back my frustration, reach out again, and weave.

Gradually, the ships disappear again into the storm. Off in the distance, Tamouran riders head in the direction of our second fleet as they close in on the capital's western border. My invisibility has thrown off the Tamouran line of ships defending the main bay, and as we look on, several of ours make it around the line, firing their cannons into the vulnerable sides of the closest enemy vessels.

Magiano guides us over to the side of the ship. He waves furiously at one of our passing baliras. “Ours!” he shouts at the soldier riding it.

The balira turns in our direction. It flies lower as it nears the ship, then dives to the surface of the water with an enormous splash. The wave rocks us. Magiano climbs on top of the nest's railing, steadies himself, and I follow him. As the balira swims right up next to the ship, we jump over the edge and onto its back. The original rider gets off, diving into the water and climbing up along the side of the hull.

Magiano pulls me to him on the balira's back. It is slick with rain, and I'm grateful for the strappings that give us secure footholds against its flesh. The balira stirs restlessly in the water. It turns sharply, then surges forward in preparation to fly.

As it does, a wave of ocean water soaks my legs. I suck in my breath.

Sergio had mentioned earlier that something in the water
seemed to be making the baliras sick. Now I know what he means. The ocean feels
wrong
. There is a poisonous presence here, a darkness that seems at once familiar and sickening. I shiver at the feeling and frown, trying to pinpoint what it is. I have sensed this darkness before in my nightmares. I know it. The whispers in my head stir, excited.

My thoughts scatter as the tether between Enzo and me suddenly pulls taut. I gasp. At the same time, Magiano yanks back on the balira's harness and launches us into the sky. He veers us sharply to the right, one of his arms locked tightly around my waist. I'm about to cry out when a burst of fire hits the space where we had been just a moment ago.

Enzo appears in the sky a short distance from us. His dark hair whips back from the wind and rain, soaked through, and I'm reminded instantly of the last battle between us, when I'd stared into the void of his eyes. My heart aches, even as I find myself hating him. I gasp again as his power pushes hard against mine, digging its claws in. The whispers snap at the threads as they threaten to turn me into a puppet.

Then Magiano strikes back at Enzo. He mimics the Reaper's energy, and I see strings of sparks flash from Magiano's hands and whip toward Enzo, bursting into lines of fire on impact. Enzo's balira jerks its head away from the flames, taking him farther from us, and the pressure against my energy lightens. I breathe again. Then I lash out at him.

Enzo cannot kill you without killing himself. He only wants to defeat you.
I keep this thought close to me, and it gives me strength.

I pull us sharply around to face him. At the same time, I grasp our tether and flood it with my darkness, my threads hooking into his heart, drowning his energy. He shudders visibly, his eyes squeezing shut—he tugs hard on his own balira's reins, and the creature veers away from me. He begins to dive. His energy shoves against mine, hot and scorching, the fire burning at my blackness. I flinch. We fly lower and lower, until Enzo skims across the water. Rain beats down on my face, and I wipe desperately at my eye to clear my sight.

Through the tether, Enzo's energy rushes at me. The edges of my vision turn hazy, dimming for a moment, and a flash of shadowy silhouettes creep forward.
No.
I cannot afford to succumb to my illusions right now. Amid the chaos, I can sense Enzo's voice as if he were speaking directly to me.

You don't belong here, Adelina. Turn back.

His words send a surge of anger through me, and I push us to go faster. We are very close to the shore now, and several of our ships have broken through the Tamouran defense. The thought of victory dances in my mind.
I belong wherever I want. And I will take Tamoura, just as I took Kenettra from you.

But Enzo's fire scorches my insides, wrapping around my own heart, closing it in a fist of his threads. Another layer of sweat breaks out all over me as my vision blurs even more. I can see myself reaching out and beginning to weave something in the air.
No. I cannot let him control me.

You are mine, Adelina,
Enzo growls.
Turn your powers against your own fleet.

I cannot stop him. My hands lift, ready to do his bidding. Then I feel the world rip through me, and I toss my head back in agony. A cloak of invisibility snaps over the Tamouran fleet, hiding them from my own. At the same time, I cast a veil of imaginary pain and hurl it at my own riders in the air.

They shriek. I look on helplessly, unable to breathe through my surge of power, as my riders fall from their baliras. I struggle for air. The world becomes hazy. I force myself to focus on the tether. It is as if Enzo's own hands were tight around my heart, squeezing and squeezing until I am ready to burst.
I have to break his hold.

A clear voice calls out above us. “Adelina! Stop!” Even before I can lift my head and see him, I know that it is Raffaele.

But he is not alone. In front of him on the balira's back is a small, delicate figure lying limply against the giant creature's hide. It's Violetta, her hair a dark streak of silk in the wind. Raffaele's arms are wrapped securely around her.

She
is
here. With them.

For a moment, everything around me disappears. All I can do is look on as Raffaele turns in my direction and opens his mouth to say something.

Something streaks past my vision. A white cloak.
One of my Inquisitors.
I have time only to glance to my side before I see one of my own soldiers on a balira, barreling toward us with a club raised. I don't have time to think—or even throw my arms up in defense. No one does. The Inquisitor swings his club and it catches me hard on the shoulder, the
force lifting me clear off my balira. The whispers in my head shriek. The world closes in, growing darker and darker, until I see nothing and hear only Magiano's shouts coming from somewhere far away.

Then, everything goes black.

Thus we agree, should the day ever come, my troops,
the Aristans, shall take possession of eastern Amadera to the
river's mouth, and your troops, the Salans, shall take possession
of western Amadera to the same. No blood will be shed.

—
Treaty between the Aristans and Salans before Amadera's Second Civil War, 770–776

I
wake at the sound of clinking chains. It takes me another moment to realize that the chains are on my wrists. The world sharpens and blurs over and over again, so I can only tell that my surroundings are dark gray and silver, that the stone beneath me is cold and damp. For an instant, I am back in the Inquisition Tower's dungeons; my father has just died, and I am destined to burn at the stake. I can even hear his chuckle in the corner of the room, see a hazy mirage of him leaning against the wall there, the gash in his chest torn open and bleeding, his mouth twisted in a smile.

I try to shrink away from him, but my chains keep me from moving too far. A few mutters echo from a distance above me.

“She's waking up.”

“Take her before the Triad. Be careful—those chains. Where's the Messenger? We need his help . . .”

They are speaking Tamouran; I can't understand the rest of what they're saying. The voices fade away, and a moment later, I feel the sensation of being lifted. The world lurches. I try to focus on something, anything, but my mind is too hazy. The whispers fill my head with nonsense, then scatter.

There is a hallway and stairs and the cool breeze of night. Nearby, a voice that I know all too well. Magiano. I turn, yearning for him, but I can't seem to pinpoint where he is. He sounds angry. His voice floats near and then far, until I don't hear him at all.
They're going to hurt him.
The thought sends every ounce of my energy roaring to the surface, and I snarl, lashing out blindly.
I will kill them if they do.
But my attack feels weak and uncoordinated. Shouts ring out around me, and the bonds on my arms tighten painfully. My strength dissolves again.

Where is everyone else?
The thought comes to me and I try to hang on to it. Where is Sergio? My fleet? Where am I?
Am I lost in another of my nightmares?

My memory of the battle comes crawling back, piece by piece. Enzo's power had overwhelmed mine. I was attacked by one of my own Inquisitors. This much I remember. The thought feels fuzzy, but it lingers long enough for me to process.
The Saccorists, the rebellion against me.

A rat,
the whispers say.
They always sneak through the cracks.

The night changes to stairs again. We are outside, and soldiers—
enemy
soldiers—are leading me up steps. I lift my
head weakly. The stairs stretch endlessly to either side of us and seem to lead to the heavens. Towers loom above, candles burning gold at windowsills, and in front of us, a series of enormous archways soar across the stairs. I look higher to where the stairs give way to a grand, elaborately carved entrance, framed by pillars and covered with thousands of repeating circles and squares. There are words carved into six of the tallest pillars.

LOYALTY. LOVE. KNOWL
EDGE. DILIGENCE. SACRI
FICE. PIETY.

The words are Tamouran, but I recognize them. They are the famed six pillars of Tamoura.

Then I stumble on the steps, and someone hoists me higher. My head slumps.

The next time I wake, I am lying in the center of a vast, circular chamber. A low rumble of voices echoes all around me. Rows of candles line the edges of the room, and light comes from somewhere above me, enough to illuminate the entire space. A terrible pressure pushes against my chest—the familiar tether between Enzo and me feels tight, the energy in it pulsing and trembling. He must be in the room. My hands are still shackled and my head throbs, but this time the world sharpens enough for me to think straight. I push myself up to a sitting position.

I am in the middle of a circle drawn into the floor, the edges embellished by smaller circles. Three thrones sit along the perimeter, an equal distance from each other, all of them pointed in my direction. In each throne sits a tall figure dressed in the finest gold silks, his hair hidden behind
Tamouran wraps.
The Golden Triad.
I am in the Tamouran throne room, seated before their triplet kings.

I blink away the remnants of my hazy mind and glance quickly around the room. Soldiers stir and shift warily at my movement. Immediately, instinctively, I reach for my energy—the threads of fear and uncertainty in the chamber now call to me—and I lash out with a web of illusions. The chamber falls into sudden darkness, screams fill the air, and a whip of agony coils itself around the Tamouran soldiers closest to me. Several of them cry out. I bare my teeth, aiming next for the kings.

“Stay still, Adelina.” It's Raffaele's voice.

I turn against the ground, until my chains don't let me move any farther, and search for him. He's standing next to one of the thrones, his hands folded into his sleeves. He looks grave, but his expression takes nothing away from his beauty. His hair is loose and straight tonight, black with sapphire strands that catch the candlelight. Just as I remember him. He returns my look calmly. The colors of his eyes shift in the light.

Beside him stand several archers, their crossbows pointed at me.

“Release your illusions,” Raffaele says. “You are here at the mercy of King Valar, King Ema, and King Joza, the rulers of the great empire of Tamoura. Rise, withhold your powers, and address Their Majesties.”

My temper surges, even though I know Raffaele is right. My powers are still only illusions—I will not be able to lunge
fast enough to keep those crossbows from hitting their target. I'll be dead within seconds. Thoughts flash through my mind. Why did Raffaele bring me here? Why hasn't he killed me yet? He could have let them unleash their arrows without warning me.

And the most pressing thought: If Violetta is here in Tamoura, why did he not use her ability against me? Why haven't they taken away my powers?

But what really stops me from attacking again is a shadowy figure standing several feet away from Raffaele, his eyes trained on me and his hands resting on the dagger hilts at his waist. When I meet Enzo's stare, the tether between us pulls so hard, I gasp. I have never felt our connection so strong, so
vicious
. He seems to feel it too—even from here, I can sense the tightening of his jaw, the shift of his muscles.

Enzo's eyes are as dark as I've ever seen them. They do not glitter with the sheen of life that eyes are meant to have. They are dull and deep, devoid of the scarlet fire that once used to fill them, hard with emptiness. He stares as if he hardly knows me. He doesn't say a word. I wince again as our tether pulls tighter, goes slack, and pulls again. Just like during our battle in the skies, he is trying to overwhelm my power. But I feel the pain in the tether too, intertwined with my own energy. Enzo was injured in battle, and I can tell.

I tense in anger.
How dare you try to control me.

Slowly, I release my illusions on the soldiers and bring my energy close inside my chest, protecting it against Enzo's. Several of the soldiers collapse to their knees, still trembling
from phantom pain. Then I carefully stretch out both of my hands, so that Raffaele can see. If he is studying the shift of my energy right now, he will know that I'm not about to attack.

But I will not bow to a foreign power.
My glare shifts to one of the kings, and I'm satisfied when he returns my stare. I'm tempted to look around at the rest of the chamber again, to meet the eyes of the other two kings, but that would require me turning around on the floor like a beggar. I will do no such thing here. “My fleet,” I say instead, lifting my chin at the king. “My Roses.”

“
Choursdaem,
” Raffaele says to the king. “
Rosaem.
”

The king says something to Raffaele in reply. Most of it is completely lost on me, but I do pick out the taunting lilt he adds to my name.

Raffaele bows his head to the king, then turns back to me. “The war rages even as we speak, Queen Adelina,” he translates. “Our armies are sitting at a tenuous stalemate, because your forces know that you are in our captivity. Another of your Roses is also in our hands. Unharmed . . . for now.”

Another captive.
It must be Magiano.
He was the only one riding with me, after all, and I'd heard his voice earlier. My energy flares again, and Raffaele shoots me a warning look. With great difficulty, I swallow and rein myself in. Magiano's life depends on how I act.

“It seems you were betrayed by one of your Inquisitors,” Raffaele says.

One of my own.
The fact that Raffaele had seen this happen
right before his eyes makes me blind with fury. “You planted a rebel in my midst,” I snap. “Did you not?”

“I didn't need to,” Raffaele replies. “You would have lost this battle.”

“I don't believe you.”

Raffaele's expression stays calm. “One of your men, attacking you. Is this uncommon?”

No. It is not uncommon.
Previous attempts come blinking back into my memory, even as I try in vain to keep them away.
The rebels are everywhere.
I grit my teeth. I will have that traitor skinned alive.

The king speaks again as Raffaele translates. “What would you do, in our place?” The ghost of a smile appears on the Tamouran king's lips. “You would have us beheaded, I'm sure, and hold it up for our armies to see. I've heard that's what you do in other conquered cities. Perhaps we should do the same, dangling your body from the masts of our ships. That should end this war quickly enough.”

My heartbeat quickens, but I refuse to let him see my fear. My mind spins. How will I break free from here? I look at Raffaele again. What deal have the Daggers struck with Tamoura?

And Violetta.

“Where is my sister?” I demand, anger shaking my voice.

Raffaele takes a step toward me. “She's resting.”

He means she is not doing well.
I scowl. “You're lying. I saw her riding with you in battle.”

“She was in no shape to fight you,” Raffaele answers. “I brought her with me solely so that you could see her.”

Is the reason why Violetta has not yet taken my powers away because . . . she is too weak to do so? “You've lied so often, Messenger,” I say with deliberate calm. “Why should you stop now?”

“For the gods' sakes, she doesn't deserve this,” Michel mutters from the shadows. He looks different from what I remember—thinner, his cheeks hollow—and his eyes are fixed on me with a burning hatred. “Behead her and send it back to Kenettra. Toss the rest of her in the ocean for the fish. She's always belonged to the Underworld. Perhaps that will fix everything.”

I frown, taken aback by such harsh words and that they come from the same boy who had once praised my illusion of a rose. He had been so fond of Gemma; any friendship he might have had with me ended the day I sent her falling from the skies. The girl I used to be stirs inside me, pushing past the dark queen to dwell on other memories. I realize I cannot recall the sound of Michel's laugh.

Raffaele doesn't take his eyes off me. To my surprise, the three rulers seem to be waiting for him to speak. After another brief moment of silence, he steps forward. “There are a thousand things we
could
do, with you here in our custody,” he says. “But what we
will
do is let you go.”

I blink once at him. “Let me go?” I echo, frowning in confusion.

Raffaele nods once.

This is his manipulation at work again. He never means exactly what he says. “What do you really want, Messenger?” I say sharply. “Speak plainly. We are at
war
. Surely you don't expect me to believe that you and the Tamourans are releasing me out of the kindness of your hearts.”

In the silence, one of the kings turns to Raffaele and raises a bejeweled hand. “Well, Messenger,” he says, his voice echoing in the chamber. “
Sa behaum.
”
Tell her.

Raffaele walks closer. “Adelina,” he begins slowly, “we are releasing you because we need your help.”

Of everything I thought he might say, it was not
this
. I can only stare at him in disbelief. Then I start to laugh and the whispers join me.
You really must be going mad.

Something about Raffaele's expression finally makes my laughter subside. “You're serious,” I say, tilting my head in a mock imitation of his familiar gesture. “You must be desperate to think that I would work with you and the Daggers.”

“You won't have much choice. Your sister's life depends on it, as do ours.” He nods at me. “As does
yours
.”

More lies.
“Is this why you told me about her? Why you wanted me to see Violetta with you? So you can use her against me?” I shake my head at him. “Cruel, even for
you
.”

“I took her in,” Raffaele replies. “What did
you
do?”

As always, his words strike true.
This is what you wanted, Adelina,
the whispers coax me.
You wanted to find Violetta, for your own reasons. Now you have.

Raffaele continues in the silence. “Your sister once took some documents of mine from the royal Beldish ship. Do you remember what they said?”

He's referring to the parchments Violetta had shown me on the day she left my side. That all Elites are doomed to die young, destroyed from within by our powers. As always, the thought of his theory chills me. I am reminded of Teren's stubborn wound, of Sergio's constant thirst. Of my own illusions, spiraling steadily out of my control. “Yes,” I say. “And what do they have to do with me?”