Page 64 of Wings of Starlight

They passed by banquet tables, each of them piled high with the cooking-talents’ hard work. Every dish was as good as a love letter to summer and its bounty: honey cake topped with honeycomb, blackberries, and slivers of fig; delicate blueberry tarts sprinkled with coarse sugar; peach jam and golden bread; tomatoes sliced thick and served with a dusting of salt and basil; glasses of redcurrant wine; pickled radishes and rainbow chard; sweating jars of water flavored with orange blossom and mint; rhubarb and strawberry streusel. Clarion’s mouth watered as she looked at it all.

But most striking were her subjects, all of them dressed in their finery. Fairies lounged on the petals of night-blooming flowers, preening beneath the light of the full moon. Others sprawled atop the mushrooms or fluttered aimlessly through the air, speaking in low tones with their friends. Normally, their excited chatter would all but drown out the sound of the orchestra’s music. But tonight, the atmosphere was tinged with melancholy.

The slumbering fairies, clearly, were on everyone’s mind.

As they navigated their way through the clearing, the crowds parted for her and conversations fell to a hush. All around her, Clarion could hear deferential murmurs of “Your Highness.” Many curtsied or bowed to her as she drifted by. Artemis was a comforting presence beside her, guiding her toward the dais like a pirate ship’s prow cutting through the waves of the Never Sea. Clarion gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment before floating up to join the queen and the commander of the scouts. Elvina raked her gaze over her, with her ceremonial scepter clutched loosely in her hands.

Whatever she saw there satisfied her, for she said, “You look like a queen tonight.”

The pride glimmering in her eyes made Clarion feel off-kilter. How long she’d yearned to be told as much—and how strangely hollow it felt to hear it now, when Elvina did not know what she had done. “Thank you.”

Elvina turned toward the gathered fairies. The orchestra played one last, shivering note that dissipated into the humid summer air, and with that, the silence was complete.

“Welcome, all. Thank you for coming to the Coronation Ball held in honor of Princess Clarion, who will be crowned your queen one week from today.” Elvina paused when her voice faltered. Clarion frowned. She’d never seen Elvina waver, especially in front of her subjects. But now that Clarion was studying her closely, she could see that Elvina’s face was quite wan. “It has felt like a long time since we could all gather like this. While those injured in the attack are at the forefront of our thoughts, the dark shadow that has fallen over Pixie Hollow is finally lifting.”

A smattering of tentative applause broke out across the clearing. When it died down, Elvina continued. “And so, I would like to begin the evening by honoring some of our brave scout-talents. They have worked tirelessly to ensure our safety. Each night, they risked their lives by patrolling the skies. They evacuated areas as needed, provided thorough reports, and helped with the repair of any damages the Nightmares caused. Tonight, they will be recognized with the highest honor a scout can achieve: knighthood.”

Clarion glanced at the scouts, standing in neat, orderly rows just in front of the dais. Although most of them were beaming, she could focus only on Artemis. She stood in the back of the group, with such open longing on her face that Clarion had to look away.

“All Knights of Pixie Hollow, please join me.”

A small collection of scouts rose into the air and came to hover behind Elvina in a semicircle. Each of them wore a pin on the lapel of their coat: an iridescent shard of abalone in the shape of a star, glistering against black fabric.

“Please step forward when you’re called,” Elvina intoned.

Clarion watched as one by one, the chosen scouts stepped forward and knelt before Elvina. Even with their heads bowed, she could practically feel the happiness emanating from them. They deserved it—truly. But Clarion could not help the bittersweet feeling curdling within her, knowing Artemis had missed out on what she so desperately wanted.

“I hereby induct you into the honorable order of the Knights of Pixie Hollow.” Elvina tapped both of their shoulders with her scepter. “Rise, knight, and be recognized.”

When the last of them had been knighted, the crowds broke into whoops and cheers. In the chaos, a serving-talent flitted up to the dais and handed Clarion a delicate flute. It chilled her skin, and when she glanced down, she saw that it was a glass of lemonade garnished with a sprig of rosemary.

“Now,” Elvina called out over the noise, “your future queen will speak a few words.”

Clarion’s throat went dry as all the attention in the clearing focused on her. She floated forward and swept her gaze out over her subjects. This was the very first time she would address them on her own, and she found the reality of it far more intimidating than the idea of it. The languid heat of summer settled over her—or perhaps it was her own nerves making her feel sohot.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice uncertain. “I want to echo what Her Majesty said in thanking you for coming tonight. I will save my speeches for Coronation Day, but in the meantime, I will say that I appreciate your coming to celebrate this occasion more than I can say. Enjoy yourselves tonight, and dance in my honor. So…” She lifted her glass. “To all of you—and to brighter days ahead.”

The glittering sound of glasses clinking together traveled through the clearing. Clarion swallowed a sip of her lemonade, if only to dispel the bitter taste in her mouth. She did not deserve to be celebrated when she still had not roused the slumbering from their spell.

As the orchestra struck up another tune, Elvina rested a hand on Clarion’s shoulder. Although she did not speak, Clarion understood her meaning:You did well.

“Go on,” said Elvina. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“I will.” A bolt of anticipation shot through her. Now, with her obligations fulfilled, she could pay a visit to her subjects in Winter. All that remained was slipping away undetected.

As she flitted through the ballroom, she watched fairies pirouette through the air to the soaring tune of the music-talents. The dance would wear on late into the night, until all the world was alight with showers of pixie dust and starlight. All her life, she’d known very well what it felt like to be lonely in a crowd. But she had never felt it more acutely than she did tonight. Seeing the others holding hands, twirling and laughing as they switched partners, reminded her of all the things she would never—couldnever—have.

A hand locked around her arm, yanking her from her thoughts. When she whirled to face whoever had accosted her, she found herself staring down at Petra. Clarion’s stomach twisted into a knot.

Just my luck,she thought. How was she going to escape now?

“I saw a pretty isolated corner over that way,” Petra said, sounding as though she had been talking for a few seconds already. “What do you think?”

“Actually,” Clarion said, extricating herself from Petra’s grip as gently as she could, “I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh, no. You can’t use that excuse if I’m not allowed to. You’re not allowed to abandon me here, where people couldtalk to me”—Petra shuddered—“orworse.”

“What could possibly be worse than that?”