Page 19 of Wings of Starlight

“Your Highness,” Artemis said softly. “Stop.”

At last, Clarion sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She breathed until she no longer felt close to tears. Never in her life had she felt so pathetic, sounqueenly. Never had she felt so disgusted with herself.

For the first time, Clarion fully understood why Elvina did not trust her. She understood the true depth of her failures. If she did not master her abilities before her coronation, one day, Pixie Hollow would fall to ruin.

And it would be entirely her fault.

Clarion hardly recalled being brought back to the palace.

The scouts had arrived only minutes after the serpent escaped, alighting around her in formation on quiet feet. None of them said a word to her; at least, if they did, she did not hear it. Her grief had pulled a gauze over the world; behind it, nothing felt entirely real. Behind it, nothing could truly touch her. She vaguely remembered the scouts surveying the scene in silent horror. She remembered the dull sensation of pain when she noticed the scrapes on her arm. Then: Artemis steering her away from the Autumn Forest.

Now, she sat numbly in Elvina’s quarters, perched on a chaise longue. At some point, Artemis had removed her cloak and wrapped it around Clarion’s shoulders. It was warm with body heat, but Clarion still shivered. Someone had also pressed a cup of tea into her hands, but it had gone cold. The room was cozily dark, with the heavy curtains drawn over the windows and candlelight gilding every surface. Shadows flickered across Elvina’s face.

“Clarion.” Elvina’s voice—gentler than she’d heard it in quite some time—jolted her back into her body. “What happened?”

Clarion took a sip of her tea, if only to save herself from answering immediately. She pulled air into her lungs until the haze over her thoughts cleared. “I’m not sure I can describe it properly. It all happened very quickly.”

“I understand. But please try.”

And so, Clarion did. How one moment, everything had been normal—and how the next, the air had gone cold and heavy. How a shadow had come to life before her very eyes, only half-formed. How fairies dropped like stones from the sky and did not rouse themselves. How dread had felt like a living weight on her when she came face to face with the beast, rooting her in place. The very thought of it made her shudder.

As Clarion spoke, Elvina’s expression did not change. No surprise—no horror—registered. She only looked grimly resigned. By the time Clarion finished recounting the evening, a sick sense of certainty washed over her. The doubt Milori had introduced no longer felt so ridiculous.

“You know what they are,” she said.

The firelight glimmered in Elvina’s eyes. The shadows it threw carved stark lines into her face. For a moment, her expression was unreadable. Would she deny it, even now? Then, with a displeased twist of her mouth, she said, “They’re called Nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Even saying it aloud chilled her.

“As you’ve now seen, they have a terrible power,” Elvina continued. “They plunge their victims into a terror-filled slumber. The moment we received the first alarm, I had our healers begin work on an antidote. So far, none of their efforts have worked. The Minister of Autumn and ten other citizens of Pixie Hollow have yet to be roused.”

Clarion could hardly process it. Until they developed an antidote, eleven fairies would suffer for as long as they lived. Guilt bubbled up within her, but stronger still was her frustration. Right now, all Clarion could think of was how Elvina had kept this from her. If she had known what she was up against—if she could have prepared herself…

“You knew what they were capable of?”

“And I have made plans to deal with it,” Elvina replied. Clarion detected the defensive edge to her voice. “The healing-talents will continue to work around the clock until they find the cure. They will keep everyone as comfortable as possible until their task is complete.”

No, she would not allow Elvina to keep her in the dark any longer. “Whatarethey?”

“No one knows exactly.” Elvina settled on the chaise longue beside her and folded her hands in her lap. She stared straight ahead, her expression oddly vacant. “Once, a very long time ago, queens remembered the origin of Nightmares. But knowledge of them has faded with time. All we have are fragments.

“Titania, the first Queen of Pixie Hollow, entrusted the story to her apprentice—and so on down the line, until now. By the time it reached me, it had grown distorted and vague. It was more like a fairy tale, one worn smooth with repetition until it hardly seemed real at all. All I can tell you is that Nightmares dwell in the Winter Woods, where the nights are long and the cold feels like a familiar embrace. No one had seen them in an eternity, but my mentor imparted this to me: if they ever reemerged, we must act swiftly.”

Her words sank in slowly. Over the years, Elvina had given Clarion morsels of Pixie Hollow’s history. But no mention had ever been made ofNightmares. Clearly, it was a deliberate omission. Before she could stop herself, before she could swallow yet another flash of hurt, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“It seems important now.”

“What would you have me do?” Elvina said through her teeth. “You cannot yet access the full range of your abilities. Legends about things that might very well have never come to pass—that might never have even existed—would only have distracted you.”

“You cannot decide what I should and should not know.” Clarion’s voice trembled with the force of her anger. The attack had shaken her far too much for her to maintain her usual composure. Eleven people wounded because ofherfailures—and because of Elvina’s lack of caution. “What else have you not told me?”

Elvina sighed as though the conversation had thoroughly exhausted her. “Clarion. Contain yourself.”

Control. Focus.If she could not present herself as a proper queen, Elvina would not treat her as one. Clarion drew in a deep breath, doing her utmost to smooth her features into passivity. This was how Elvina liked her best. This was how she could convince her that she was capable.

“I have to be prepared for all eventualities,” said Clarion. “How can I be prepared if I don’t know what I’m up against?”