The Midnight Star (The Young Elites 3)

The whispers in my head build to a dull rumble. I bow my head and close my eye, trying in vain to shut them out. On another night, I would be more ruthless—in the past year I’ve ordered prisoners executed before me, so this would be nothing new. But tonight, my heart feels heavy with the weight of Raffaele’s message. Visions of Violetta continue to crowd my thoughts.

One glance in Magiano’s direction is enough. He gives me the subtlest shake of his head, and his words return to my mind, as if whispered in my ear. Perhaps he is drawing on my power. Let the people love you a little, mi Adelinetta.

“Release them,” I hear myself saying as I rub my temples. “And get on with the celebrations.”

The crowd’s raucous cheers fade away as they gradually understand what I’ve said. The prisoners stare at me in stunned silence, as do my Inquisitors.

“Was I not clear?” I call out, my voice ringing in the chamber. The corners of the space turn dark, and a haunting wail whips through the air. The crowd lets loose a round of frightened gasps as they edge away from the encroaching blackness. My soldiers jump to action now, untying the ropes that bind the prisoners’ arms and forcing them to their knees so that they can thank me. They sway, blinking away confusion, and I look on, wondering how my sister has the power to influence my decisions even when she’s not here.

“Get out of my sight,” I snap to the kneeling prisoners. “Before I change my mind.”

They need no second bidding. The girl scrambles to her feet first, then rushes over to the old man and pulls him to his feet. The old woman follows. The boy lingers the longest, puzzling over my expression before he, too, hurries after the others. The crowd’s eyes turn from me to them, and as the musicians try to strike up the songs again, scattered singing begins to puncture the awkward silence.

My focus shifts back up to the archway, but Magiano is no longer there.

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?” hispers in my head build to a dull rumble. I bow my head and close my eye, trying in vain to shut them out. On another night, I would be more ruthless—in the past year I’ve ordered prisoners executed before me, so this would be nothing new. But tonight, my heart feels heavy with the weight of Raffaele’s message. Visions of Violetta continue to crowd my thoughts.

One glance in Magiano’s direction is enough. He gives me the subtlest shake of his head, and his words return to my mind, as if whispered in my ear. Perhaps he is drawing on my power. Let the people love you a little, mi Adelinetta.

“Release them,” I hear myself saying as I rub my temples. “And get on with the celebrations.”

The crowd’s raucous cheers fade away as they gradually understand what I’ve said. The prisoners stare at me in stunned silence, as do my Inquisitors.

“Was I not clear?” I call out, my voice ringing in the chamber. The corners of the space turn dark, and a haunting wail whips through the air. The crowd lets loose a round of frightened gasps as they edge away from the encroaching blackness. My soldiers jump to action now, untying the ropes that bind the prisoners’ arms and forcing them to their knees so that they can thank me. They sway, blinking away confusion, and I look on, wondering how my sister has the power to influence my decisions even when she’s not here.

“Get out of my sight,” I snap to the kneeling prisoners. “Before I change my mind.”

They need no second bidding. The girl scrambles to her feet first, then rushes over to the old man and pulls him to his feet. The old woman follows. The boy lingers the longest, puzzling over my expression before he, too, hurries after the others. The crowd’s eyes turn from me to them, and as the musicians try to strike up the songs again, scattered singing begins to puncture the awkward silence.

My focus shifts back up to the archway, but Magiano is no longer there.

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?”