Page 11 of Wings of Starlight

A winter fairy.

She had not imagined a winter fairy would be so unassuming. He was just aboy, no older than her. And yet, looks could be deceiving. She could not underestimate him.

She arranged her face into some semblance of composure. Too late, evidently, for he lifted his hands placatingly and said, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

His politeness surprised her even more than his sudden appearance had.

“You didn’t,” she said guardedly.

“Well,” he replied, visibly taken aback, “that’s a relief.”

The winter fairy slowly drew closer to the border, his every stride measured, as though giving her the opportunity to retreat. She forced herself to remain rooted where she stood. With each step he took, the snow crunched beneath his boots and her anticipation mounted. He stopped just at the edge of the border.

This close, she could see every plane of his face, from his broad cheekbones to his square jaw. There was no warmth in the young sparrow man’s eyes. His gaze was wary and trained on her, as though she were a wounded animal poised to strike. Whatever mistrust Clarion harbored, it seemed it was entirely mutual.

“Who are you?” Clarion demanded. Her voice came out exactly as she’d practiced: authoritative, cool, dispassionate. The voice of a queen, even if it wasn’t exactlyhervoice.

“I don’t mean any harm,” he said. Clarion resisted the urge to laugh. As if simply saying that could put her at ease. “My name is Milori.”

“And what business do you have here”—she paused, giving him another once-over—“Milori?”

If he was at all bothered by her skeptical tone, he did not show it. From his neutral expression to his drawn-back shoulders, he was the very picture of confidence. “I’ve come to request an audience with the Queen of Pixie Hollow.” After a pause, he added, “And it seems I’ve gotten one.”

“You know who I am?” In her shock, Clarion abandoned her queenly hauteur. The question sounded far more hopeful than she intended.

“Of course I do.” He sounded almost puzzled. A strange glint entered his eye—one not entirely unpleasant but one that she couldn’t exactly read.

It hardly mattered to her, becausehe knew who she was.

He knew who she was, and he hadn’t flinched away from her or demurred or panicked. She could count on one hand the number of fairies who dared look her in the eye—who dared speak to her unbidden at all. Perhaps they had no respect or love for warm-season royalty in the Winter Woods, but she would gladly take impertinence over reverence.

“May I ask what gave it away?” she asked, trying not to soundtooeager.

That glint in his eyes intensified. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he lookedamused.“Your regal bearing.”

Clarion glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

His smirk indicated she had rather proven his point. “And your wings,” he added, more soberly. “They’re very distinctive—and bright. I saw you coming at quite a distance away.”

Self-consciously, Clarion folded them against her back. She suddenly wished she had brought her traveling cloak after all. “I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not actually the Queen of Pixie Hollow. You’re looking for Queen Elvina. I’m only the queen-in-training.”

And not a very good one, at that,she almost added.

“I see,” he replied. All of the mirth drained from his expression. Clarion found she missed it when it was gone; such somberness did not belong on a face like his. “And what do I call you?”

A small part of her knew that she should insist on decorum. No one called her by her name but Elvina and Petra.Your Highness,she almost said. But what came out of her mouth was “Clarion.”

“Clarion,” he repeated. How strange it was to hear her name in his lilting accent—in that voice as cool and smooth as a pane of glass. It made a shiver pass through her, one that had nothing to do with the cold.

Clarion smoothed her hands over her skirts, doing her best to appear disinterested. “Shall I pass on your message to Queen Elvina?”

“If you would. Tell her that the Warden of the Winter Woods wishes to speak with her. It’s an urgent matter—one that concerns both our realms.”

Could he be talking about the monster? Her mind whirred with the possibilities. She had hoped to bring information back to Elvina—and what information could be more valuable than something that came from the Warden of the Winter Woods himself?

“She’ll never agree to it.” It wasn’t a lie; Elvina had never exactly encouraged her interest in the Winter Woods. “But perhaps I can meet with the warden.”

A rather peculiar expression crossed his features, there and gone in an instant. “That can be arranged, if you wish.”