Page 66 of Wings of Starlight

Swallowing down her hurt, Clarion slipped into darkness and headed toward Winter.

If only Petra had just let it lie. If only she had not goaded Clarion into a confrontation she wasn’t prepared for.

If only, if only, if only.Clarion stewed in her thoughts while she fetched her coat from where she’d stashed it in the knothole of a nearby tree. She hugged it to her chest, inhaling the familiar scent of Winter clinging to the fur trim. It brought her no comfort; it only served as a bitter reminder of how much she owed to Petra.

Drawing in a deep breath, she did her best to fold up all her hurt feelings and file them carefully away. She could not afford to become maudlin right now. Tonight’s journey into Winter, after all, was purely to fulfill her royal duty. She could manage her emotions, as any competent queen could. And yet, all she wanted was to retire for the evening—to brood over how she’d officially torn apart her relationship with her best friend.

Although the sun had fully set, Clarion could have found the border of Winter and Spring blindfolded by now. Her wings knew the way: every stone jutting from the earth, every turn of the river, every branch elbowing out into the path, guiding her to the only place that felt like home. Spring seemed to sense her sadness tonight. Willow branches trailed soothingly along her arms, and she could have sworn the cherry blossoms bloomed wilder than they had before. Their petals tangled in her skirts and settled gently on the surface of the moonlit pond she passed.

When she made it to the border, Milori was waiting for her. Slowly, she descended from her flight. The train of her gown pooled around her, and as the hem dissolved into pixie dust and motes of golden light, it stained the water and ice with brilliant gold.

In the full dark, Milori was a sketch in charcoal beneath the glow of a star-flecked sky. She found she couldn’t look away from him. She’d never seen him in the trappings of his rank before. He wore a cloak of spider-silk brocade, dyed a pale blue and embroidered with frost-like patterns in delicate silver thread. It was fastened around his shoulders with a brooch of solid ice, gleaming coldly against the fabric. A circlet of icicles, both fragile and imposing, was nestled in his white hair. He’d left it unbound, so it fell like a spill of moonlit water down his back.

For a moment, they stared at each other, the air thickening with all the things left unsaid between them. How had she ever believed she could keep her feelings out of it when they reunited?

Perhaps Petra hadn’t beenentirelywrong.

At last, Milori broke the silence. The fur-lined hem of his cloak shifted as he bowed to her. “We’re here to escort you to the ball.”

“We…?” She trailed off when she spotted Noctua. She was perched in the branch of a spruce a few yards away, watching them with a look that veered too close to exasperation for Clarion’s liking. If even an owl could sense the tension, things were bleak indeed. “Of course.”

He nodded at the coat draped over her arm. “May I help you with your coat?”

She hesitated. She’d wanted—well,wantedwas a strong word, but the point stood—to maintain some distance between them, but what harm could there possibly be in so small a gesture? She handed it to him. “I don’t see why not.”

Milori held it out for her so that she could slide her arms into the sleeves. Once she had let it settle over her shoulders, she fastened the buttons. She knew she must have looked rather ridiculous, wearing this patched-together coat over the most elegant ball gown she owned. But when she glanced up at Milori again, he was watching her as if the entire ensemble were the most striking thing he’d ever seen.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing at all.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

She tucked her hand into his elbow. “How proper.”

“It is the first time Pixie Hollow’s royalty has graced this realm in an official capacity,” he said, only a little winkingly. “I intend to make a good first impression.”

He turned, and as she moved to follow him, she slipped into Winter. The cold that washed over her felt cleansing. Summer and her coronation ball seemed terribly far away now.

As he led her toward Noctua, Milori let his shoulder knock gently into hers. “Is there something on your mind?”

For a moment, she considered lying. “Is it so obvious?”

Milori’s response was a half shrug that said,Painfully so.After a moment, he asked, “Is it the Nightmares?”

“In part.” She worried the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry. I’d meant to check in with you sooner. The attacks have stopped, but…”

“…no one has woken up.”

Clarion ached at the somberness of his voice—at the weary shadows still carved beneath his pale eyes. How she yearned to take away some of that burden. “I don’t understand what we did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Milori kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, seemingly lost in thought. “The instructions weren’t exactly clear. Besides, there was always a risk that the legend would lead to a dead end, but it wasn’t for nothing. Sealing the prison has given your subjects peace of mind for the first time in weeks. Tonight is evidence of that.”

“I suppose so,” she murmured. “Still, I can’t help feeling guilty—like we’ve forgotten the slumbering. It feels wrong to celebrate without them.”

“I’m not sure it’s wrong to hold what moments of joy we can find.”

Her heart gave an answering flutter. That low, gentle tone of his felt almost…pointed. It was a lovely sentiment, one she wished she could believe applied to her—tothem. Clarion held her silence, lest something regrettably whimsical or melancholy slip out. With her current mood, she couldn’t be sure which it would be.

“At any rate…” He barreled onward. The tips of his ears burned red. “The Keeper and I have begun searching for other texts that might provide some answers. It could take some time, however. The Hall of Winter is vast…and admittedly rather disorganized. Each Keeper has had their own system of classification, and none of them has managed to make it consistent across the entire collection during their tenure. There is still an entire section with shelves arranged by color.”