Page 22 of Wings of Starlight

“Not here,” Clarion said. “Follow me.”

Petra groaned.

Clarion led her toward the door of the throne room. Artemis immediately began to follow them, close enough to keep an eye on them, far enough to stay mostly out of earshot. As inconvenient as it was at times, Clarion couldn’t deny how safe she felt with her shadow falling over them. Petra cast surreptitious glances her way every now and again, the color on her cheeks deepening with every passing moment. Sometimes, it was impossible to tell if she wanted to runfromArtemis ortowardher.

When they made it to the lawn of the palace grounds, a sprawling stretch of green spangled with buttercups and wood sorrel, Clarion settled onto the grass. This early in the morning, it was still cool and damp with dew. The entire field sparkled beneath the sunlight. Clarion couldn’t help thinking it looked like frost.

“What is it you’ve brought me out here for?” Petra asked.

“What do you make of Elvina’s plan?”

Some of the concern faded from Petra’s face. Comfortable in the realm of logistics and her own expertise, she said, “She’s spoken to some of the tinkers about it already. The roots of the Pixie Dust Tree can’t be destroyed easily, so it won’t be as simple as setting the woodcutting-talents on it. But if there’s some way to imbue an axe with magic, then theoretically…”

Petra began sketching out the theory for her, but Clarion processed little of it. She could not stand the thought of governing-talent magic and tinker ingenuity being used in such a way. Of Milori, who’d sought out her help, being so summarily shut out. More than anything, Clarion could not bear the idea of wasting this opportunity. If she had even a small chance to mend the rift between their worlds, how could she turn away from it?

“I have to stop her,” Clarion said.

Petra’s face went deathly pale, and her voice came out as little more than a squeak. “Stop her? Why?”

Clarion sat up straighter. “Because it isn’t right to abandon the winter fairies to the Nightmares! Do you even know what will happen if the bridges are destroyed?”

“No one will be able to cross into Winter again,” Petra replied. Judging by her frown—and her hesitant tone—Clarion’s protests did compel her. “But the dustologists confirmed that there are other root systems connecting Winter to the Pixie Dust Tree. They’ll be fine. Just alone.”

Is alone trulyfine?Clarion wondered. She shook her head. “There has to be some other way.”

After how dismissive Elvina had been of her ideas, Clarion harbored no delusions of being able to dissuade her. Which meant she had to talk to Milori.

“I haven’t seen that look in a while,” Petra said, with equal parts fond admiration and wariness.

Clarion blinked, startled out of her own thoughts. “What look?”

Petra put on something like a scowl and gestured to her own face. “This look. It means you’re going to do something reckless.”

Clarion smiled innocently, if only to hide that she did indeed plan to do something reckless. “I would never! I’ve outgrown such things.”

Petra buried her face in her hands. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I’m just going to talk to Elvina,” she lied. “Don’t worry.”

“Why would you say that? That’s going to make me worry more!”

But Clarion had already turned her mind to plotting. Elvina’s new decree had given her the perfect opportunity to sneak out. Until further notice, no one would be out and about at night. No one would know to miss her. No one except Elvina.

And Artemis.

Clarion dared to look over at her, half-hidden with her earth-colored tunic against the trunk of the Pixie Dust Tree. As if called—as if she could sense the ill-advised scheme brewing in her mind—Artemis met her eyes with a wary frown.

For the good of Pixie Hollow, Clarion would have to find a way around her.

All week, Clarion could focus on little else but the sun inching gradually westward. In the daylight, life continued as normal. But as the afternoon frittered away to evening, dread gathered over Pixie Hollow like a storm cloud. Even Clarion found herself flinching at every distant cry of an animal. Today, she was even more painfully aware of the lengthening shadows. Because once the sun dipped below the horizon, the week Milori had offered her would be gone.

Impatience lodged itself like a splinter in her mind. Her duties had consumed her every spare minute lately, and today was no exception. During the council meeting, she stared at Rowan’s empty chair as representatives from the scouts and healers presented their updates on the Nightmares. The only words she truly absorbed wereno traceandno cure. It only further confirmed what she suspected: there was nothing the warm seasons alone could do.

She needed to speak to Milori.

Her schedule was mercifully clear after this, but Artemis would no doubt prove to be an obstacle. In the wake of Elvina’s decree, she’d been particularlyattentive. Any click of a lock or creak of a door, and Clarion felt the weight of the scout’s eyes like the tip of a blade pressed to her spine. If she couldn’t sneak past her, she would have to try a different tactic: asking permission. Clarion might not have known Artemis as well as she knew Petra, but she knew her values. More importantly, she knew her heart. If anyone could understand the burden of wanting to keep Pixie Hollow safe, it was her.

As soon as the meeting adjourned, Clarion determinedly ignored Elvina’s assessing stare and hurried back to her room. She unlatched her balcony doors and stepped out into the late-afternoon warmth. Artemis, predictably, was perched in the forked branches of a moss-covered tree limb, her polished wooden sword resting in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Her arms draped lazily over the knee she’d drawn into her chest. The angle of the sunlight cast half her face in shadow and set the shades of blue in her dark hair alight.