The Midnight Star by Marie Lu Page B

plants them lower and lower, creating a gentle path along my neck. I sigh, wanting nothing more in this moment than us, content with staying here forever. The tether tying me to Enzo fades in my mind, and for an instant I can forget that we are linked at all. Magiano’s hands run down my back,unwilling to let go. My breaths come in ragged gasps. Gradually, I notice that we have made our way to the edge of the pool, where he presses me tightly against the stone. One of his hands tangles in my hair, drawing me forward to him. His kisses return to my lips, more urgent now, and I fall into them eagerly. A low groan rumbles in his throat. I wonder, for a wild second, if he will take us further, and my heart pounds in my chest.
    â€œYour Majesty,” he whispers, breathless. A note of amusement creeps into his voice. “You’ll ruin me.” Then he pulls me to him, so that every inch of our bodies is pressed together. I lean against him, soaking in the luxury of the warm water. I don’t want to ask him what he’s thinking.
    A faint voice rings out, muffled, from the other side of our hidden space. I ignore it as Magiano drowns me in another kiss. Through the haze of my thoughts, the voice comes floating over again.
    â€œYour Majesty? Your Majesty!”
    Water ripples against our bodies.
    â€œYour Majesty,” the voice continues, drawing nearer. Now I recognize it as one of the stewards who deliver my messages. “There is an urgent letter for you.”
    â€œShe’s not here,” another voice complains. “The bathhouse is empty.” The voice sighs. “She’s probably off slitting some poor fool’s throat.”
    The words break me out of my haze. I push away from Magiano right as his eyes open again. He glances toward the collapsed entrance too, then shoots me a questioning glance.I straighten and give him a smile, unwilling to show him that the servant’s remark has bothered me. Instead, I exhale and try to bring down the flush in my cheeks.
    â€œYou’d better go,” Magiano whispers, his words echoing in the space. He nods toward the collapsed archway. “Far be it from me to interrupt something urgent.”
    â€œMagiano, I . . . ,” I start to say. But the rest of the words don’t want to come out, and I stop trying to force them. I take a deep breath before ducking under the warm water and swimming through the space that leads back out into the main bath hall.
    I break through the surface with a loud splash. A yelp of surprise comes from somewhere in the chamber. As I wipe water away from my face, I see two messengers standing at the edge of the bath, their eyes wide, their fear hovering over them.
    â€œYes?” I say coolly, raising my brow at them.
    This snaps the men out of their terrified stupor. They jump backward in unison and bend down in low bows. “Your Majesty, I—” one of them says, voice trembling. This is the one who had spoken about me with sarcastic disgust. “I—I—I—hope you had a lovely bath. I—”
    His words fade into an incoherent jumble as Magiano comes up behind me, shaking water from his hair. If he weren’t here, I might indulge myself in punishing this messenger for speaking about me so carelessly. The whispers stir, delighted at the fear emanating from the man. But I shake them off. He’s lucky this time.
    â€œYou mentioned an urgent letter,” I finally say, interrupting the messenger’s distracted train of thought. “What is it?”
    The second man, smaller and slighter, approaches the water. He presents a rolled parchment to me. I wade toward him and lift one hand out of the water to take it.
    The letter’s crimson wax seal bears the royal crest of Tamoura. I crack it open, unfurl the parchment . . . and freeze.
    I know this handwriting. No one else can write in such an elegant script, with such careful flourish. Behind me,