Page 42 of Wings of Starlight

“I know you’re all doing your best,” Clarion said gently. “Will you take me to him, please?”

With a bow of her head, the healer led her and Artemis to the sick ward, past a curtain of string-of-pearl succulents. Clarion stopped dead in the doorway as nausea threatened to overtake her. She had never seen this room so full. Eleven cots, dressed with moss and milk thistle seeds, were laid out on the floor with eleven too-still bodies on them. The eerie silence of the room settled over her like the chill of Winter.

“I’ll leave you two to visit,” the healer said.

Clarion moved quietly through the rows, her glow tracing the haunted features of each fairy they passed, until she stopped at Rowan’s bedside. His brow was furrowed as he dreamed his troubled dreams, and his auburn hair fell in a messy spill across his pillow. The sharp lines of his cheekbones looked even more prominent. The sight of him like this made her heart squeeze. It frustrated her as much as it pained her, to feel so helpless.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

When she closed her eyes, something brushed against the very edges of her awareness. She couldn’t place the sensation, exactly. It was as fleeting and inexplicable as a shudder in broad daylight—a sense that something was amiss, even when nothing appeared to be. With each passing moment, it—whateveritwas—swirled into focus in the theater of her mind. A wisp—cold and dark, giving off little sparks of sinister light—wound itself around Rowan’s mind.

Was this the magic that bound him in his slumber?

When she focused her attention on it, she reeled back with shock. Chills erupted over her skin, and her lungs emptied in a rush. Her ribs constricted, so tightly she felt she could not draw another breath. Clarion had never known what his fear had looked like, but she imagined it felt something like this. She stumbled back a step from the minister.

“Your Highness.” Artemis was beside her in an instant, steadying her by the elbow. Her gaze was fixed warily on the minister. “Are you all right?”

It took a few moments for Clarion to find her voice. “I think so.”

Slowly, Artemis eased her hold on Clarion’s arm. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” Clarion rubbed her temple. With some distance between them, terror eased its grip on her—enough for her to think more clearly. She’d been able toseethe Nightmare’s lingering power, like a knot or heavy chains binding him into the realm of his nightmares. Could this confirm the Keeper’s theory? However small, she hadsomeconnection to the dream-talents’ faded magic. She just had to hope it was enough to repair the fraying barrier they’d left behind.

For all their sakes, she could not fail tonight.

“You’ve come to visit.”

Clarion startled, and Artemis bowed her head with a murmur of “Your Majesty.”

Elvina had emerged from a back room with a healer, her hands folded and her expression solemn. The succulent curtain rustled softly behind her. Here in the early-morning light, Clarion noticed just how exhausted the queen looked.

“Yes,” Clarion said. “I wanted to check on them.”

Elvina only nodded. They’d had the same idea, after all. It struck Clarion that this, at least, connected them; no matter how their ideas differed, they shared both grief and love for their subjects.

After a moment of silence, Elvina said, “You have a meeting with the Minister of Summer tomorrow.”

Clarion sighed at the reminder of her schedule. “I do.”

“Later that day, you’ll have a consultation for your coronation ball gown—and the final fitting for your coronation gown. You’ve only two more weeks before—”

“I know,” Clarion cut in, with a touch of impatience.

Elvina stared at her, stunned.

When it occurred to her that she had interrupted the Queen of Pixie Hollow, she lowered her gaze deferentially. She hadn’tintendedto be so rude, but the thought of ball gowns and menus and ceremony…She could not bear it, not when she was surrounded by all the fairies she had failed to protect. But what else could she do but pretend? “I mean…Yes, I’m aware. Thank you.”

Elvina composed herself and gestured out over the sickroom. “It is good of you to worry for them, but I want to ensure your focus is on your coronation—and mastering your magic before then. I am handling the Nightmares.”

“I have been focused—”

Elvina arched an eyebrow. “The Minister of Spring told me you seemed distracted when she saw you last.”

“It’s only nerves.” Clarion hesitated, crossing the room so that she floated beside Elvina. “And I can’t help worrying some. Even if your plan succeeds, it won’t awaken these fairies.”

Elvina’s expression darkened, but she laid a hand on Clarion’s shoulder. “We will find a way. In the meantime, we will ensure no one else falls. My plan is progressing. Our royal tinker has been assisting me.”

“Petra,” Clarion said, half on reflex. Elvina seemed incapable of remembering her name. “Right.”