Page 31 of Midnight Star

Ghost’s low growl breaks the moment, reminding us that we’re surrounded by corpses in the middle of a dangerous forest.

When Riven pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “We should keep moving,” he says, although there’s a reluctance in his voice that mirrors my emotions.

“Right. The ancient woman,” I say, forcing myself to focus.

After all, we have a mission to complete, a potion to create, a king’s sanity to restore, and a best friend to rescue.

We can do it.

Because now, we have each other’s backs more than ever.

Zoey

I’m sittingat the side of the courtyard, working with Isla, Elijah, and Sebastian on carving our chess pieces, when I feel it.

Henry’s eyes burning into me from across the way.

It’s not the first time he’s watched us as we work. But today his stare feels even more invasive as he leans lazily against a tree, his gaze flicking between us like he’s sizing up prey.

Isla nudges me with her elbow, her voice low. “Ignore him. If you react, he wins.”

“Easier said than done,” I mutter, focusing on the knight I’m almost finished carving.

Elijah pauses his carving for a second to look up at me. “Being the queen’s favorite gets to Henry’s head,” he says, returning to shaping the curve of a pawn. “But Isla’s right. Ignore him enough, and he’ll back off.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I thought Matt was the queen’s favorite.”

Sebastian chuckles dryly. “Matt’s just her current toy,” he says. “There’s a difference.”

Elijah nods, his expression grim. “Henry’s not just a favorite. He’s her eyes and ears. He watches everything and everyone, and he likes to see how people unravel. The queen loves it, too. Watching newcomers deteriorate is like a twisted game to her.”

“And the queen doesn’t just weaken her newest pawns physically,” Sebastian adds. “She picks at their minds, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left.”

Isla stops carving her pawn for a second to look at me. “It’s sick,” she says. “She’s even more twisted than the king.”

My stomach drops at the reminder of the king. Of how he unraveled my braids and lowered his mouth to my neck, seconds away from claiming me as his.

As much as I hate it, I’m grateful that Aerix stepped in and stopped him.

At the thought of Aerix, memories of the kiss we shared a few hours ago flash through my mind. The way his magic wrapped around me, filling the air, making me crave more. His hands on my waist, the way his breath ghosted over my skin before I pushed him away, and the hunger in his midnight eyes that mirrored the one simmering deep inside my soul.

My fingers tighten around my carving knife as I curse the way my body burns at the thought of him. At the way I want more, even though memories of his touch should be filling me with disgust instead of pleasure.

I’m yanked back into the present when Jake strides up to us and drops onto the bench beside me.

“Miss me?” he asks, pressing so close that our thighs touch.

“You’re blocking my light.” I move away so quickly that I almost slice my finger.

“Sorry,” he says, and he picks up one of the bishops he carved, turning it over in his hands like it’s a priceless artifact.

“What do you think?” he asks, holding it up.

It’s rough and uneven, like a toddler’s first art project.

“It’s...” I search for a more diplomatic response. “Creative.”

“I was going for unique,” he says, leaning closer. “Like you.”

---