Page 30 of Wings of Starlight

“I see.” Of all things,disappointmentsurged up within her. Clarion swallowed it down as best she could. How silly, to hope that there would be someone like her besides Elvina. As the aura around her dimmed, she offered him an uncertain smile. “There goes that theory. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Not knowing doesn’t bother me,” he said gently. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Clarion turned her gaze out to the Winter Woods, unable to meet the unbearable earnestness of his stare. Snow pirouetted in the wind, melting the instant it neared the border. “I thought that maybe there would be someone else like me in Winter. It makes sense that there isn’t. To be a good queen is to be as cold and distant as a star.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his reaction. His entire body shifted backward, as though the words had physically struck him. “Is that what you believe?”

What shebelieved? What she personally believed was immaterial.

“That’s what Elvina has always taught me.” She knotted her fingers together in her lap. “But I’ve never been like that. I’ve always wanted things I shouldn’t. It’s my greatest shortcoming.”

“Is it? I understand the necessity of that worldview, but…” When she dared to look up again, the sight of him stole away her breath. The setting sun painted him in stark shadows. “What is the harm in wishing things could be different?”

The necessity of that worldview?Clarion felt the weight of his words like a knife to the heart. Perhaps he was not a governing-talent like her. Perhaps they had not endured exactly the same things. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. The shape of his pain matched her own.

Milori was just as lonely as she was.

She yearned to rest her hand atop his, but she felt anchored in place. For so long, she’d wished for someone to see her—trulysee her. Now that someone might, she understood just how terrifying it would feel to allow it—and just how much more complicated that would make this entire mission.

I’ve always wanted things I shouldn’t.

Never had that felt truer.

After three agonizingly long days of waiting, Petra sent her an update. It happened while Clarion was lying in bed, once again awake before the sun had fully risen.

The sky outside her window was a velvet swatch of purple stippled with fading stars. Even from here, she could see the barest sliver of white-capped mountains, peering in at her. A small torment, when all she could think about was how soon she would stand beneath their shadow—and how soon she and Milori would exist on the same side of the border. Maybe then, she could convince herself that all of this was truly real.

There came a soft rapping on her balcony doors.

Clarion shot bolt upright as panic doused her like a sudden rainstorm. This early, someone on her doorstep portended nothing good. Another attack, or—

When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, all the fear bled out of her. Something between annoyance and sheer relief took its place when she noticed Artemis standing there. Her guard stood on the balcony, her silhouette traced by her own glow. Clarion dug the heels of her palms into her bleary eyes. What could she possibly want this early?

Artemis knocked again, more pointedly this time.

Clarion threw off the covers and crossed the room. She cracked open the door, letting in a sigh of cool air and the faint sound of the dust-keepers’ chatter as they prepared to distribute morning rations. She did her best to glare at Artemis, although she imagined its effect was somewhat diminished by her dishabille. She was still wearing her nightgown, and her hair hung unbound down to her mid-back. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Artemis replied dutifully. “Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I thought you might want this.”

She held a thin roll of parchment tied off with green twine. Clarion accepted it from her outstretched hand and unfurled the note. Immediately, she recognized Petra’s handwriting, as well as the telltale stains of soot and grease and something she sincerely hoped was not blood. Sewing could not bethatdangerous, even to someone unpracticed, could it? The message itself, however, was uncharacteristically short—and unsigned.

All it said wasIt’s done.

Clarion’s heart skipped a beat, and she hugged the parchment to her chest. The giddy anticipation that had been building for days seized upon her. After so many years of staring out at it, after so many years of wondering, she could be going to Winter as soon astonight. It took a great deal of restraint to keep herself from twirling through her room. Artemis would hardly know what to do with her.

She settled for beaming up at her—only to find Artemis looking at her with a peculiarly soft expression. When Artemis realized Clarion had noticed, she rearranged her features into the very picture of composure. “Something good?”

“We can pick up my coat.”

“Ah.” Artemis grimaced, clearly still not thrilled about the prospect of letting her charge wander into Winter. “Good news, indeed.”

After a moment, something occurred to Clarion. She considered the letter in her hands. “Where did you get this?”

The faintest flush crept up from beneath Artemis’s collar. “The tinker gave it to me.”

“I didn’t realize you spent so much time around Tinker’s Nook,” Clarion said, trying for a conversational tone. Artemis and Petra had known each other for years through Clarion, but as far as she knew—much to her dismay, considering howobviousit was Petra fancied her—they’d never spent any time together without her. This was a new development, indeed.

“We only ran into each other,” she replied hastily. “That is, I found myself nearby.”