Page 52 of Wings of Starlight

Aurelia frowned at her. “Like summer, this brief moment before you ascend the throne is fleeting. Think of it, then, as a time to be awake to what you want—and who you want to become.”

I’ve always wanted things I shouldn’t,she’d told Milori once.

But now, she wasn’t so certain. When she allowed herself to dream, she thought of Pixie Hollow, united and safe. She thought of the warmth of Winter, where respect did not mean distance. She thought of Milori.

Those moments of freedom and happiness had felt something like power. Whatwouldit be like if she got out of her own way? If she trusted her instincts? If she did what felt right, not what she had been taught? Conviction felt like sunlight, illuminating her from within. Maybe her heart had never really steered her wrong.

That evening, Clarion returned to the border. Here, sitting cross-legged on the bridge between Spring and Winter, she could feel the barest whisper of the cold over her skin—and the snow-laced breeze winding itself around her wrist. It felt as though it beckoned her closer, inviting her to drift over the pale grass, frozen stiff with lacy hoarfrost. She’d never escape the pull of it now that she’d experienced firsthand what a magical place it was—one where there were libraries carved from ice and mountains you could traverse by sled and fairies who made friends of wolves.

How sad that no other warm fairy had experienced what she had.

Clarion shivered when she sensed another presence. When she looked up, she caught the exact moment Milori began descending from his flight. Clearly, some part of her was attuned to him—or perhaps sought him out. He landed delicately on the earth beside her, the glow shed from his wings silvering the snow like moonlight. This time, she did not admonish herself for the answering lurch of her heart.

What harm was there in allowing herself this?

“You’re back.” It warmed her to see his pleasantly surprised expression and know he had looked forward to this meeting as much as she had.

“I did promise I’d be here tonight,” Clarion countered. “Besides, Yarrow told me you could teach me to skate. I have to come back for that.”

“Did she?” Surprise flickered across his features, before he schooled them into composure. “I imagine that’s because she didn’t see you fall off your sled. Who knows what will happen when we put you on the ice?”

Clarion glared at him, but she found she could not muster much heat at the twinkling in his eyes. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground beside her. They sat almost knee to knee in the darkness, close enough to touch. The very thought prickled along her skin like electricity.Ridiculous,she scolded herself. They’d been far closer than this last night. But then, that had been out of necessity. Somehow, this felt far more vulnerable. Especially when he was looking at her like this. Clarion could not name what exactly she saw there, but it made a terrible longing rise up within her.

“I’ll teach you one day.” His voice was low, almost wistful, as though he’d lost himself in a reverie. It took a moment for Clarion to recall what they’d been discussing.

“I’ll hold you to it,” she said, only a little breathlessly.

Milori traced the very edge of her sleeve. “How is your arm?”

“Fine.” Clarion pulled the fabric to her elbow and turned her arm over. She’d removed the dressing earlier and had been shocked; the wound beneath looked days older than it was. No swelling, no complications. She offered him a teasing smile. “You should put more faith in your healers.”

He huffed out a breath. “I do. But I’m aware of how lucky we are it was only a minor wound. If anything worse had happened…”

“Milori.” Clarion reached across the border and rested her hand on his forearm. He went terribly still, then raised his eyes to hers. Her glow bathed his face in gold and set his pale eyes ablaze. For a moment, she was acutely aware of the sensation of his skin, cool and smooth against her own—and of the bitter cold of winter, like another comforting hand laid atop hers. The thought made her chest ache.

“Please don’t blame yourself,” she continued. “It was my choice to cross. I knew the dangers. And even if I had been seriously injured, it would have been my fault—not yours.”

Just like it was her fault what happened to Rowan. She breathed through the sudden rush of shame.

“That isn’t true,” he protested.

“It is. If I had a better handle on my magic, we wouldn’t be in such a precarious position. No one would be trapped in a nightmare. Neither of our realms would have to worry. But I don’t, and so I can’t save anyone.” She had not known these feelings were so close to the surface. She could not bear to look up at him with them pouring out of her. Now that she had opened the floodgate, she found she could not stop herself from giving voice to them. “What kind of queen will I be? I am the only fairy in the entirety of Pixie Hollow who can’t do the one thing she was born to do.”

Milori laid his hand over hers, chasing away the familiar chill of the air. She hadn’t realized she’d begun digging her fingers into his arm. She certainly hadn’t realized how close she had come to weeping. Slowly, she loosened her grip on him, and she was left with nothing but the blunted edge of her despair. After a moment, he let her go, and Clarion withdrew her arm to the warmth of Spring. The lack of contact felt more like a loss than it ought.

“You mustn’t blame yourself for things beyond your control,” Milori said.

She laughed thickly, blinking through the rheum of tears that threatened to spill. She swiped her fingertips beneath her eyes. “You can’t just turn my advice back on me. Not until you take it yourself.”

“In that case, I retract it.” He smiled, just barely. “You’re not the talentless queen you believe yourself to be. Youcanuse your magic, even if it isn’t to your standards. I saw it myself.”

“So rarely,” Clarion protested. “Besides, I’m barely conscious of it when I do manage to wield it. That hardly counts.”

“Start there, then.”

Clarion let out a startled laugh. “Are you really going to give me a magic lesson?”

“Humor me.” He angled himself toward her, drawing one knee into his chest. “What do you feel in those moments?”