Page 37 of Wings of Starlight

Her face burned, and her heart fluttered. How infuriating, she thought, that a single look from him was all it took to fluster her. “Impertinent, for one.”

Milori seemed quite delighted, judging by the tiny smirk he was clearly trying to keep off his face. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said primly, with a cant of her chin. After a moment, she dropped the act and sighed. “Truthfully, I’ve always wanted to come here. I can see this very mountain from my room. Every night, I look out at it, and I’ve always thought…I don’t know. It must seem silly to you, but I thought it looked sad. I’m glad to know that it’s not.”

“It’s very much not.”

Indeed, this close to the village, the twinkling sound of laughter and work songs reached her. Clarion drank it in eagerly. Through the trees, she spied flashes of a river frozen solid. Here and there, she could see fairies dancing across its surface with…knives attached to their feet? It was all too puzzling—and entirely magical. “What are they doing?”

Milori steered her away from them by the shoulders. “Another time, perhaps. You’ve fallen enough today.”

The trees gradually thinned, then gave way to a clearing at the foot of the mountain. Clarion stopped dead at the tree line. A massive door, made entirely of ice, loomed before them. It was carved with a snowflake insignia and washed blue in the ethereal light emanating from behind it.

“This,” Milori said, “is the Hall of Winter.”

“Wow,” she breathed.

He guided her toward the door. Great pillars of ice rose from the earth and towered over them, marking the walkway from the woods to the entrance. When they stood before it, Clarion reached out to touch the pane of ice. Milori grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Before she could protest, he said, “Before we go in, I should warn you about the Keeper.”

Clarion stilled. He’d mentioned the Keeper once before, in a tone that suggested he commanded respect—and maybe a healthy dose of awe.

He paused for a moment. Then, he settled on his warning: “He’s eccentric.”

That was…not what she expected. That could meananything, but she supposed it was not worth pressing the matter. She would see for herself soon enough.

“Right,” she said. “Understood.”

Satisfied, Milori laid his hands against the massive doors. The intricate carvings responded to his touch; they lit up, so bright it bathed his face in blue. With a groan, they opened. Clarion tried not to gasp as they passed through the threshold. It was a palace made entirely of ice. The ceiling towered above them, supported by columns of ice and dripping with wickedly gleaming icicles. Sculptures of snowflakes hung suspended above them, emitting that same eerie blue glow. Even the floor was solid ice. It took a moment for her to find her balance and not go sprawling with every step. All around her, the walls were lined with shelves of dark wood. Each one was filled to bursting with books and scrolls and tablets.

“This is incredible.”

Milori was surprised, clearly, for he smiled a little. “It is.”

His voice, quiet as it was, resonated through the hall, deep and rich. The light played across his face. Clarion had to avert her gaze to keep herself from staring at him.

Just then, a long shadow fell across the floor. A terrible sound tore through the silence: a growl. Then, the sound of claws dragging viciously across the ice.

A Nightmare.

Clarion reached for her magic—and braced herself for the helplessness that would come when it did not answer her. But when the beast emerged from the stacks, it did not bear the sinister aura of a Nightmare. It was not made of oily shadows—but of flesh and bone and fur. Hardly reassuring, Clarion thought, when it was staring them down with its lips pulled back from its teeth in a snarl. It stood almost three times their height, with a thick gray coat and yellow eyes that bored into the very heart of her.

Clarion instinctively scrabbled backward. “What is that?”

Milori said, “That’s only Fenris.”

Only?How could he be so calm in this situation? “You’ve named it!”

“Ididn’t.” Milori extended his hands, as though calling the creature to him. “He’s the Keeper’s wolf.”

The wolf—Fenris—slunk toward Milori on his belly with his ears pinned flat to his head. When he reached them, Fenris laid his massive chin at Milori’s feet and swished his tail against the ice. Clearly, the two of them were friends.

Clarion laughed breathlessly, if only to dispel the tension building within her. She had roped Petra into some dangerous schemes, but even she had her limits—or perhaps a scrap of self-preservation. “And doyouhave one of these beasts?”

“No.” Milori patted Fenris’s muzzle. “I’ve always been partial to owls myself.”

“Owls?” Clarion could not keep the horror out of her voice. They were dangerous predators—at least in the warm seasons.

“The Keeper has a soft spot for misunderstood creatures,” Milori said after a moment. Now that neither of them was paying attention to him, Fenris let out an aggrieved-sounding sigh. The force of his breath swept Clarion’s hair back from her face. “Fenris here is quite harmless. He’s still a pup. But even as adults, wolves are skittish—and easy to befriend if you have food.”