The Midnight Star

by Marie Lu

  “Always knew the fish from this strait tasted funny,” Magiano quips, but he barely says it like a joke. I study the baliras that skim the surface of the water as they swim. I can’t tell how healthy they are, but Sergio’s words frighten me.

  “Will they be strong enough to carry us across the eastern bay?” I ask as one of them bursts through the waves with a haunting call.

  Sergio crosses his arms. “They say the baliras will fly long enough to get us over the wall. I don’t know if they’ll survive a long battle, though.”

  “So we need to make it quick and clean,” Magiano says.

  “Essentially, yes.”

  Magiano raises an eyebrow at me. He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s wishing that we had someone like Gemma with us. Maybe we would have, once upon a time. But Gemma is dead. She hated you, anyway, add the whispers, and I harden my heart before I let myself think about her for much longer. The Daggers will be waiting for us, along with the Tamouran army. The thought of forcing them to their knees gives me some sense of satisfaction. Finally, the whispers sigh.

  In unison, our silver-white pennants turn into black ones that blend with the darkening sky. Our war drums echo deep and rhythmic across the sea. The shores of Tamoura are growing closer, and I can see the towers of the capital. Ships have gathered in the harbor, some clustered at the narrow entrance, ready to stop us. But Sergio’s storm is already doing its work. The ocean crashes hard against the harbor’s rocks, sending white spray high in the air and rocking the Tamouran fleet.

  The waves hit our own ships hard too, and as one smashes into our side, I careen toward the railing. My hands find it and latch on for safety. Behind me, Magiano makes a flying leap at the edge of the sail and lifts himself onto it in the blink of an eye. He pirouettes to the ladder steps, which lead up along the mainmast. “You’re going to need a better view,” he shouts. “Care to join me?”

  He’s right. I take his hand, and he pulls me to the first step. Slowly, I make my way up as the ship tosses. Blackness has nearly covered the entire sky, leaving only a sliver of blue over the capital, surrounded by churning storm clouds. Fat drops of rain have started to pelt down on us. A roll of thunder shakes us. From here, I can see the entire expanse of the Tamouran coastline—the smaller bay off to one side of the city, and the wider bay that we are now sailing dangerously close to. The bay’s mouth gapes before us, and the rocks lining it are sharp and jagged, like the jaws of a monster rising out of the ocean. Directly beyond it is a line of Tamouran warships, all facing our fleet and ready for battle. As we look on, a burst of cannon fire sparks from one of the ships. A warning shot.

  I take in the ocean behind us. My Kenettran warships wait for our command.

  Magiano gives me his perfect, sidelong smile. “Shall we, White Wolf?”

  I turn back to the vast bay and the Tamouran ships, raise my hands, and draw on my energy. The whispers in my head awaken, thrilled with their freedom—and the energy all around me shimmers in a web of threads. I am darkness within, and my darkness reaches out, seeking the fear in the hearts of our enemy soldiers, the anxiety in the hearts of those in my own fleet. It grows in my chest until I can’t hold it in anymore.

  So I let it out—and weave.

  The clouds over our fleet glow a faint blue. Then, a phantom creature bursts from the water, a figure of black smoke that morphs into the ghost of a white wolf, each of its fangs as large as one of our ships, its eyes glowing red against the storm. It hovers over our fleet with its glare trained on the Tamouran ships. It lets out a roar right as another clap of thunder shatters the sky.

  The Tamouran fleet fires a full volley of cannons at us—but I grin, because I can feel the sudden spike of terror in the hearts of their soldiers. To them, they are staring into the face of a demon.

  I glance at Magiano. “Ready?” I ask.

  He winks. Rain soaks us both now, coming down in sheets, and water drips from his high knot of braids. “Always ready for you, my love.”

  I blush a little, in spite of myself, and turn quickly away before he can see it. Then I shift my concentration away from my illusion. Magiano reaches out with his energy this time—he takes over the illusion of the white wolf, and as he holds it in place, I weave an enormous blanket of invisibility over all of our ships, morphing them into the image of black ocean and stormy skies. We vanish from sight in the churning waves.

  The Tamouran ships continue firing, but now I can tell that they are aiming blindly, trained only in the direction of their last attack. We are close enough now to the bay’s entrance that I can see the Tamouran soldiers running back and forth on the decks of the ships, their head wraps soaked in the rain. My heartbeat quickens in excitement at the sight of them. I am coming for you all.

  I am coming for my sister.

  Down below, Sergio’s voice rings out, “Fire!”

  Our cannons erupt in unison. They rip into the sides of the Tamouran ships, and distant smoke and screams fill the air. They fire back, but they still cannot see us. Our ship reaches the bay’s mouth, still shielded behind invisibility, and Sergio guides us in, narrowly avoiding the jagged rocks on either side.

  Magiano suddenly seizes my wrist and yanks me down lower in the crow’s nest. I duck instinctively with him. An instant later, I see what has caught his attention—baliras, dressed in silver armor, flying in our direction. It takes me a moment to recognize one of their riders. And the recognition only comes because of the flames that shoot out toward us.

  Enzo.

  The Daggers are here.

  Our pennant catches fire for an instant, before the huge spray of waves crashes over us again and puts it out. But the glimpse of flames temporarily exposed where our ship is, and the Tamourans’ cannons point in our direction. They explode, hurling cannonballs toward us.

  I’m thrown against Magiano as one of their cannons rips into the side of our vessel. My concentration flickers, and my illusion wavers long enough to reveal our ships again, ghosts moving against the storm, before I quickly cover them up. Overhead, Enzo rains down another burst of fire. This time, it hits one of the ships behind us, and its forward sails erupt in flames.

  Other enemy baliras start firing arrows at us. I grit my teeth and huddle against Magiano for warmth in the crow’s nest, listening to the sound as they slice through the air. Our ship, as well as two others, has managed to make it inside the bay, but we are not moving fast enough to repel the Tamouran fleet waiting for us. Enzo’s bond tugs hard at my heart, and I can feel him reaching out for me as I call to him instinctively. He knows exactly where I am. Even now, I can see him circling back around, a rider separated from the others, hunting me down.

  Bastard prince.

  “I need to fly,” I mutter to Magiano as I stagger to my feet. “We need to be airborne.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, a blast of wind hits us. His answer is lost as he grabs my waist and presses us both against the crow’s nest, shielding our faces from the impact. It is such a strong gale that it threatens to lift us off our feet. Only Magiano’s clinging to the crow’s nest keeps us from being blown straight into the ocean. At the same time, a wave smashes against the ship behind us with a force far greater than the storm’s waves.

  “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

  Adelina Amouteru

  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 sur
face, 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. KNOWLEDGE. DILIGENCE. SACRIFICE. 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.