The Midnight Star by Marie Lu Page A

that it belongs to Magiano. The kitchen is gone, and I am lying on the floor of the palace’s hall again. Magiano pulls me to him as I continue to sob—even though his expression is concerned, he seems relieved to finally make eye contact with me. I hug him close and cling tightly. My body trembles against him.
    â€œHow do you always manage to find the worst hallway to lie down in?” Magiano says, his teasing only halfhearted. He brings his face down to my ear and murmurs something I can barely understand, over and over, until the whispers in my head fade into the shadows.
    â€œI’m fine,” I finally say, nodding against his shoulder.
    He pulls away far enough to give me a skeptical look. “You weren’t fine just a few moments ago.”
    I take a shuddering breath and wipe my hand across my face. “Why did you come up here, anyway? Did you hear me calling for you? Was it because of what happened outside?”
    Magiano blinks. “You were calling for me?” he says, and then shakes his head. His mouth tightens into a thin line. “I’d hoped you would come looking for me.” I search his face, wondering if he is still mocking me, but he seems seriousnow. For the first time, I realize that there are Inquisitors behind him. There is an entire patrol with him, looking for me.
    All of a sudden, I feel tired to my bones. Magiano sees me sag, and he ropes an arm behind me as I do, lifting me effortlessly. I let him. He mutters something to the Inquisitors, and they start to file out. I close my eye after that, content to let Magiano carry me back to my chambers.

Stock—
    2 days’ worth black bread
    2 days’ worth dried meat
    6 days’ worth water
    Waste—
    12 days’ worth bread, infested
    12 days’ worth water, unfit to drink
    â€”
From the journal of an unknown soldier during the Battle for Cordonna Isle
Adelina Amouteru
    I t is for the best that we set sail for Tamoura the next day, under a brilliant blue sky.
    The weeks at sea will force me to concentrate on our new mission, to forget about my loss of control over my illusions in the hallway last night. Magiano doesn’t mention it again, either. We go about our business on the ship acting like all is fine; we have strategy meetings with Sergio as if no one remembers my incident. But I know that word of it has spread among my Inquisitors. Now and then, I see them murmuring in the shadows, eyeing me with wariness.
    Our queen is going mad,
they must be saying.
    Sometimes I can’t tell if my madness is what’s conjuring these images, twisting my confidence. So I try to ignore them, as always. What does it matter if I’m mad? I have ahundred ships. Twenty thousand soldiers. My Roses at my side. I am
queen
.
    My new flag is silver and white, of course. In its center is a black, stylized symbol of a wolf, surrounded by flames. I am a creature who was meant to die in fire—but I didn’t, and I want to be reminded of that every time I look at this image. With each passing day at sea, the silver-white flags seem to stand out more and more against the deep, strange gray of the ocean, like a flock of birds heading toward new nesting grounds. One week blends into the next, and then into a third, with stale winds slowing us down and the Falls of Laetes to maneuver around.
    At the end of the third week, I stand on the deck of my ship and look back at the sea of ships behind us. Every single one of them flies my pennants. I smile at the sight. The nightmare within nightmares had visited me again last night, this time shifting so that I would wake over and over in my bed on board my ship. It is a relief that my army distracts me from the memory.
    â€œWe are nearing Tamouran shores,” Sergio says as he comes to stand beside me. He is dressed in full armor this morning, with knives strapped to his chest and daggers crossed on his back, hilts poking out from the tops of both his boots.