Page 3 of Wings of Starlight

Clarion flinched at the sound of her name—and at the familiar voice of the Minister of Summer.Exposed.Dread seized hold of Clarion as she turned to face the minister. Aurelia hovered just behind her with a look of mild surprise. She had deep black skin and eyes as golden as pixie dust. Her hair fell in twists down to her shoulders. Today, she dressed in a gown of yarrow; the tiered skirt frothed with blossoms, arranged in clusters of pink, orange, and white.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked. “I thought you’d have returned to the palace by now.”

“I took a brief detour,” she replied wanly. “To rest?”

Aurelia brightened at that. She’d been shaped by an eternity of languid summer afternoons and valued peace and quiet above all else. Here in the Summer Glade, there was always time for a nap or a glass of lemonade. But while they dozed during the brunt of the midday heat, they truly came alive at night. Summer was the only season that never truly slept. If Clarion lingered here long enough, those who lived beneath the light of the moon—firefly-talents and star-counting-talents—would emerge from their slumber.

“My brilliant protégé,” Aurelia cooed. “See? Youarelearning about Summer.”

The praise rang hollow, but Clarion forced cheer into her voice. “Thank you, Minister.”

She smiled indulgently. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to check in on my light-talents.”

With that, she left. Reluctantly, Clarion glanced over at the animal-talent, who had gone quite pale. She opened her mouth to say something,anything, to put her at ease. But it was too late. She saw the exact moment it dawned on the other fairy. The exact moment her shock slackened into mortification—and something like awe. Clarion could hardly bear it.

“Princess Clarion,” she choked out. “I amsosorry.”

Clarion held up her hands placatingly. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“But there is.” The animal-talent bowed her head deeply. “Your Highness, please forgive me for my impertinence. If I had known…”

Then she never would have spoken to Clarion at all.

What else was there to say? Quietly, she said, “You’re forgiven.”

The animal-talent bowed her head again. Murmuring a breathless thank-you, she rushed off. Back to her work, no doubt—and back to her friends.

That familiar ache of loneliness unfurled through her like a collapsing star. For a few precious minutes, Clarion had almost been able to forget who she was. Here, there were no guards following her at a distance. No one snapping to attention as she passed. No conversations dying as she approached. No whispers rippling in her wake. But none of it mattered in the end. Even here, she could not escape what she was.

She should have wanted this: respect, deference, impartial distance. But she didn’t. More than anything, she wanted the only thing that felt truly impossible: to beknown. Elvina would never…

Elvina.

Oh, stars. If she didn’t leave now, she was going to be late.

She unclasped the brooch at her throat and dropped the traveling cloak from her shoulders. She gathered it up hastily in her arms and took flight, bursting from the sunflowers in a flurry of golden light and golden petals. A few bees lazily trundling by swerved off course to avoid her.

As she rose higher into the sky, she dragged a wake of pollen behind her. She allowed herself a single moment to glance back—and regretted it immediately. The light-talents had apparently finished their work for the afternoon. They’d separated themselves into teams and were volleying a ball of light back and forth over a net. Even from this distance, Clarion could hear their shrieks of laughter—and the mingled shouts of triumph and frustration when one team scored a point.

The sight of her subjects, so completely and uncomplicatedly happy, should have delighted her. But right now, it was only a painful reminder of her own queenly solitude. As much as she wanted to, she would never truly belong among them.

The Pixie Dust Tree loomed in the distance, stately and lush with its cloudlike canopy. Tiered cascades of pixie dust—as golden and bright as starlight—poured from the heart of its highest branches and pooled in the apex of its trunk. Its limbs curled protectively around the Pixie Dust Well before veering off in elegant arches and whimsical curlicues. Clarion had always thought one looked like an upside-down heart, another like the tail of a curious cat. And just below the well, housed in a hollow of the tree’s ancient trunk, was the palace. Windows dotted the bark, each one lit from within.

Even from here, Clarion could make out the glow of the light she’d left on in her bedroom, softly emanating from the glass doors of her balcony. She’d counted on sneaking back in being the hardest part of this little venture, but she had not anticipated the added challenge of her own lateness. Really, she had been on such a good streak of punctuality. Elvina would be so disappointed to see it broken.

If only Clarion had managed to master teleportation, one of the most useful governing-talent abilities. Elvina always made it look so easy: dissolving into a swirl of glittering gold dust, then reappearing across the room. Clarion had once managed to make her left hand disappear before it snapped back into existence with a vengeance. Given her track record with magic, she’d been half convinced that it would vanish forever, or that it would wind up halfway across the room without the rest of her attached.

She landed in the tangle of branches just outside her balcony and dampened her glow. With any luck, no one would be searching for a flash of gold among the foliage…although she secretly delighted in imagining how her subjects would react to the ever-dignified Princess of Pixie Hollow breaking into her own quarters. Imagining Elvina’s reaction, however, was decidedly less amusing. Mercifully, she’d had the foresight to leave the balcony doors unlocked. She carefully eased them open, then slipped back into her room. As soon as she latched the doors behind her, muffled voices filtered in from the hallway. Clarion instantly recognized both Petra and Artemis.

“…feeling a little under the weather…”Petra’s voice,Clarion noted with pleasant surprise. It was practically fraying beneath the strain of lying.

Her oldest—well, heronly—friend had always been terrible at this sort of thing. It didn’t help that even after all these years, Artemis—Clarion’s guard—always managed to fluster her. Clarion supposed she appreciated the effort, considering she hadn’t asked Petra to cover for her. She hadn’t even known to expect her today.

What fortunate timing.

Clarion crossed the room and paused in front of her vanity, which was cluttered with bottles of fragrances and cosmetics. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that she had no pollen streaked across her nose or any stray petals tangled in her hair. She looked a little flushed from her flight, but that was nothing that couldn’t be explained away. Petrahadsaid she felt ill, after all. Clarion was tempted to use the excuse to beg off her lesson, but there was no sense delaying the inevitable. She’d made little progress in her magic since Elvina began training her, and she did not anticipate a breakthrough before the next one.

A flicker in the corner of her eye caught her attention. The clouds had shifted, letting a wash of sunlight spill into the room. Beyond the glass of her balcony doors, she was greeted with the familiar sight of the mountains keeping their grim vigil over the Winter Woods. In the warmth of the golden hour, the snow cloaking them gleamed a brilliant white. No matter how many times she laid eyes on it, that cold, austere beauty never failed to stun her. As foolish as it was, Clarion yearned to see the mountains up close. She could almost picture standing atop their summit: the wind in her hair, the snow dancing around her, the beauty of Pixie Hollow seen from that great height. How wondrous it would be.