Page 91 of Wings of Starlight

When she reached the Minister of Autumn’s bedside, she sat in the empty chair and studied his face, slack and peaceful in sleep. So, this would end where it had begun.

She did not have to wait long. When he awoke—gently, easily, as though he found he’d drifted off for a nap sorely needed—his eyes found hers immediately, then crinkled into a smile. “Your Majesty?”

“Not yet,” said Clarion softly.

He closed his eyes again, a relieved grin stealing across his features. “I always knew you could do it.”

Coronation Day arrived, and it was a glorious midsummer afternoon.

Clarion waited in the wings of the ceremony grounds, hidden in a thicket of blueberry bushes. The branches overhead drooped, heavy with berries, flushing as they ripened, and delicate bell-shaped flowers. The crowd’s excited chatter rose above the sound of the river’s burbling—and the sound of her own racing heart. Her anticipation built with every passing moment, especially since she could see nothing through the dense leaves.

“It’s time, Your Highness,” Artemis said. “They’re ready for you.”

Clarion turned toward the sound of her voice. Artemis had appeared beside her, announced only by the soft thunk of her staff against the earth. “That might be the last time I’ll ever hear you call me that. It’s going to be an adjustment.”

“I think it’ll be quite natural on my end.” Artemis offered her a small smile. “Shall we?”

Together, they made their way toward the exit, a scrolled archway cut into the thicket. Beneath it, Elvina and the three Seasonal Ministers waited for her. The queen’s features were composed as ever, but Clarion did not mistake the pride beaming out of her.

Iris gasped. “Your Highness! You’re a vision.”

Clarion beamed at her. “Thank you.”

Her gown was pure, shining gold, with an overlay of translucent spider-silk lace infused with pixie dust. Her hair had been fashioned into the traditional braided coronet and adorned with a crown of snow-in-summer blooms.

No matter how nervous she felt, there really was no denying it: she looked like a queen—and she felt like one, too.

Rowan leaned toward her conspiratorially, the gold stitching in his cloak catching the light as it slid over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“We should hope so,” Aurelia said drolly, “or she’ll miss her own ceremony.”

Iris hid a laugh behind her hand.

“I’m very ready,” Clarion said. “Let’s see what miracles you’ve worked.”

“I think you’ll be happy,” Iris said in a singsong.

Clarion had the utmost faith in them, of course…but still, she had no idea what to expect. When she and Elvina broke the news that—with two days’ notice—they would be moving the venue, Aurelia had reacted with a studiously blank stare. If she was disappointed or panicked, Clarion did not know, nor did she have much opportunity to wonder. Iris had twirled into the air, all but cackling in triumph.

Finally, Spring has its moment!she’d cried.You won’t regret this!

Aurelia had glowered at the Minister of Spring, but the two of them resolved to make it happen. Rowan had seemed rather amused about the whole thing, in a way only someone with no real stake in the issue could be.

Perhaps the only benefit of being asleep for so long,he’d said with a wink.

Elvina cleared her throat, adjusting the scroll she carried in her arms. “Let’s not keep them waiting any longer. I imagine they are all eager to see their new queen.”

They emerged from the thicket, onto the edge of Spring. When Clarion laid eyes on the ceremony grounds, her breath caught with wonder. Beside her, Aurelia and Iris exchanged pleased glances.

They had outdone themselves.

Honeyed sunlight filtered in through the branches overhead, patterning the earth in dappled gold. Rainbows, carefully painted by Aurelia’s light-talents, were draped across the clearing, unraveling across the sky like royal banners. Rows of chairs, arranged in a half circle, faced the bridge spanning Winter and Spring—and all the winter fairies on the other side of the border. Frost-talents had carved rows upon rows of benches from ice, all of them garlanded with mistletoe, holly, and delicate blossoms of snow white. It touched her that Aurelia and Iris had thought to coordinate with Milori.

“All rise,” cried a herald-talent, “for Her Royal Highness, Princess Clarion.”

In unison, every fairy in Pixie Hollow stood—and turned to stare at her. Never in her life had so many eyes been on her. Never before had they been so full of adoration.

Clarion couldn’t help the grin that stole across her face. Murmurs and gasps of delight rang out as she and Elvina made their way toward the bridge, soon swallowed by the sound of the music-talents’ instruments as they began to play. The train of her gown hovered just above the ground and billowed behind her as though borne on a river’s invisible current.