Spies meet romance meet popstars in this thrilling follow up to Stars and Smoke by bestselling author Marie Lu.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Marie Lu’s Icon and Inferno, which releases on June 11th 2024.
A year has passed since superstar Winter and secret agent Sydney Cossette went undercover – on a dangerous mission to bring down the baddest man in London.
Winter hasn’t stopped thinking about Sydney since, and she’s been trying not to think about him
Family secrets and nasty newspapers has Winter desperate to re-enter the secret world. And it’s not long before he gets his chance.
Sydney is back, and this time the mission goes right to the heart of the United States of America. A rescue gone wrong, an assassination attempt – and the return of an old flame – puts Winter right back into the action . . . and into a country on the brink of chaos.
And when a murder accusation has Sydney on the run, suddenly it’s not just a life at stake, but all-out war.
By the time Sydney stirred out of her half sleep and drove the van along Queen Street to the entrance of the dance studio, she knew Winter was already inside.
For one, the lights were on, which meant it was already open at this ungodly time, five hours before its normal schedule. Second, she recognized the black car parked outside as the same one she’d seen behind the hotel last night—bodyguards, ever watchful for fans who might have caught on to Winter’s whereabouts and could attempt to get into the studio.
Sydney jogged past the back door, as if out on a casual four a.m. run. The humidity in the air irritated her weak lungs, and they reacted accordingly, an uncomfortable ache stirring in her chest each time she breathed. She forced herself to slow down.
As she went, she took a good look at the two bodyguards inside the car. Their eyes were trained on the building, but not on her, watchful only of the studio’s entrance. She did a lap, then came back around from the other end of the street, where they would be less likely to see her, stopping at the back of the building where the garbage bins were all lined up in a row.
The door was locked, but she went right up to it anyway and took out a small pin from her pocket. As she worked on the lock, she glanced up, searching for security cameras. There were two in the front, but none back here, not by the garbage bins. Amateur hour, she thought, ever grateful for lazy security.
She twisted the pin once more and was rewarded with the sound of a light click. Bingo, she thought as the door handle turned all the way. She slipped inside.
Inside, the studio was quiet and muffled, but Sydney could hear the beat of music. As she followed it down the hall, she heard the squeak of shoes against a polished dance floor.
It had been a year since she’d been this close to Winter, and the sound of those shoes made her heart jump. Even without seeing him, she could tell from the rhythm of the noise what he was doing—spinning, arching backward, the thud of his shoes against the floor in perfect sync with the music. If she closed her eyes, she would be able to see him moving in her mind, in her memories—gliding across a floor bathed in moonlight, his shirt translucent like a ghost.
She shook her head and clenched one of her fists at her side, and for a moment, she slowed in her steps, as if she might abandon the meeting. What did she expect, anyway? Even if he was happy to see her, even if he wanted to do the mission, there couldn’t be anything more between them. Sydney had watched Niall and Sauda as they spent the last decade circling each other, never allowed to be together because of Panacea’s strict rules, yet never able to move on because of their deep feelings for each other.
Not that that was the case with Winter. He was a superstar. People falling at his feet at every turn. Chances were that he’d forgotten all about her.
Maybe it had been a mistake for Sauda to send her to fetch Winter. C’mon, Sydney, she thought to herself, shaking her head. Two years ago, when she was tasked with making contact with the world’s most dangerous drug lord in Antwerp, did she hesitate? No. And here she was, getting cold feet before asking a freaking pop star whether or not he wanted to join her on another mission. Ridiculous.
Sydney turned the corner and found herself standing before the doors of the practice room, staring at a boy stretching on the floor. Her rambling mind cut off abruptly, and all she could do was take in the sight of him.
There was something strange about seeing someone in the flesh whom she usually, like everyone else, saw filtered through a screen. Sharper, more angular, human in that extraordinary way that only famous people tended to be, in possession of an intangible quality that made it impossible to look away.
All right, she told herself forcefully. Back to business.
Sydney’s mind snapped to attention again. She moved silently, opening and closing the practice room door and posing herself against the wall, her eyes fixed on Winter’s back. She was so quiet that he hadn’t noticed her enter the room—his head stayed tilted down toward the floor as he stretched his legs, his brows furrowed in the mirror, his lips murmuring to the music blaring through the speakers. For a while, she just watched him. She remembered everything about him so vividly, but what she remembered best were these little moments, like when he’d look skyward to enjoy the rain or dance alone in a room, when he was so absorbed in something that he forgot entirely about the world around him. If spies and artists had anything in common, it must be this: an all-consuming focus on their work, missions by a different name.
She wondered what he was thinking about. Music, most likely. A dance routine, perhaps. Selfishly, foolishly, she wondered if perhaps he was thinking about her.
Long minutes passed before he finally finished his stretch, rubbed his neck with his towel, and pushed himself to his feet. His gaze went to the mirror instantly. And at last, his eyes jumped to her.
Their gazes met and he froze.
Sydney felt the lock of his eyes on her own as if he’d physically touched her. Maybe she remembered everything about him, but she had forgotten this—how his attention could feel like the sear of the sun.
He blinked once, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, as if she were an apparition. Then he spun to face her directly, and a surprised smile spread on his face.
And in spite of everything, she felt her own lips answering with a smile, felt her entire body warm with the glow of his presence.
“I hope you remember me, Mr. Young,” she said.
